Grace

“Gracious. Goes the, ghost of you.” (Ben Howard)

Gracious.  Something we are to others.

Graceful.  A way of moving.

Grace.  Kindness. A chance to catch your breath. Thanks.

Might grace be something we afford ourselves? The possibility of change, through our own process? The (constant) movement of our own ghost . . .

There was a time when need and want were so mashed in my head that I had to go to the dictionary for their meaning.  And still they fused.

With time I pulled them apart, in theory.  Need is mine; handing it to another would be my demise.  But want.  Want is for the asking, and that action is just a beginning.  The identification. The audience.  Ask.  Receipt or an empty hand.  And even in receipt, is what you hold now truly what you want? What to do with an empty hand?

Today I look back at the theory and the unravelling.  Now they have death and love and fear and judgement – and joy – sprinkled all over them. How do they look? A bit too sacred, methinks.  Held too close. Precious.

But then there is grace.  It steps into the equation, and gently it is ok to be reminded. It’s ok that theory and application, truly have not met.  That theory needed to be held, while I observed and found the space between me and . . . me.

Now, judgement and want are curiously similar.  I have something in my hand – something received – and I might witness how it changes me.  I remain, both filter and vision.

Today there is the other hand – the one that holds no action – and it is the translation. The hand that tells me who I am, after death and love and fear and judgement, and joy. Life-filtered theory.  Me, and that ever-loving mirror.

“Being kind to ourselves when we are most challenged is the most grace filled thing we can do.” (Andrea Hill)