Under pressure. In the storm. In the face of awkwardness. This is my work, to embody grace. And yours perhaps.
Life is a walking, breathing meditation and we are asked daily, in every moment to exist in this constant state of change. To bring grace to the things that stick in our gut, make us uncomfortable; that feel as unpredictable as betrayal. To bring it to the feelings that we are not proud of. It is possible to meet ourselves in them with grace. Kindness. A light hand.
It is not about subsuming ourselves, or covering up, or being modest, or soft, or too quickly forgiving. (Sometimes it is about being a hard-ass.) Grace can be rough, uncut, audacious, angry, sullen, giddy.
Careful or careless; it can be bright eyed and cacophonous. It does not need to be polite. It can and does exist in the land of Fuck You.
Grace is about stillness. The stillness that sits in our centre even as we might swirl around it, keening, pining, grasping. Laughing wildly and shouting 'what the fuck!' into the wind. It is the calm eye of my storm and yours. Grace allows us to drop the facade of competence, wholeness, perfection.
We can be broken and weak and still have it.
"We must accept the gifts of what was in order to embrace and accept what is."
