So I think I have lived my whole life as a baby swan.
I have floated, paddling furiously, on the surface of myself
I have focused on my ungainliness
as I swayed clumsily across life’s landscape,
I have accused myself of lacking grace
in the most self-deprecating-humor-way possible.
But lately, I have been thinking
that grace is not something you have or achieve
it’s something you accept
like the flow of water around your legs
in the buoyancy of it
like the firmness of the ground beneath you
in the gravitas of gravity.
Grace is in the way you let yourself breathe
knowing there will be air there
without questioning it, just believing
that every time you inhale
there will be enough there to sustain you.
Grace is what you experience when you stop trying
to have an experience
and realize you’re already having one.
Grace is plucking the strings of the universe
and actually hearing the music you make.
Grace is knowing that the universe makes music
with or without you.
Grace reminds you that in spite of yourself
you are here for a reason.
Grace is surrender, not the giving up kind of surrender
but the letting go kind
the kind that flings you off into empty space
so that self-same air that fills your lungs
rushes beneath you
surprises you with your own pinions
and enables you to fly.
(c) RCGA, 2013
Flying Swan by Brendan Schoon