Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Cygnet

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

Image

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