Grace

The day to day is so mild as of late, I have to reach for things other than the daily grind to write about. I miss writing. I miss hitting just that space when I feel my own power, where the words twist like blown glass under my hands.

Inspiration is not a requirement to write. I tell myself this isn't the first lull I've hit with writing - and it will not be the last. It's nice to have the lull emanating from a place of calm. I also feel just the slightest of guilt, as if I am ignoring something. Hard to know if you're "taking a break" or "procrastinating."

I know eventually something will break and I'll be back to the keyboard with typing possessed. I'm not so far out of the woods as to think it will be smooth sailing forever. Not only is that not my luck (there's no "tragedy limit" for me and my life), but that's life in general. At least for me. In this quiet time, I'm settling to accept that.

There's been quite a bit of thought around that idea lately. That for whatever reason - karma, fate, the cold, cold hand of an uncaring Universe - my life will be a battle. Where most people have years and years of calm broken by events of crisis, mine is the absolute opposite. My calm waters are the punctuating events, not the rule that leads from year to year.

But in these glass seas, I can come to appreciate that. It's not so easy to be grateful when the ground cracks beneath you and sends you scrambling for an overhanging rock to keep you from plunging into the earth, but here, now, I can be grateful.

Maybe accepting my life as it has been (and for how it will be) is grace.

I can't bring myself to believe that there is some being out there that guides my hand and heart through the hard times. I can't bring myself to believe that I, as I was born and as I live, am deserving of some kind of divine benevolence. But I can take these quiet moments and reflect on my life, the things that brought me here and the things that propel me further.

I can take these quiet moments and think of things I might be able to believe.

I can take these moments of quiet and comb through the answers that I asked all of you to give me about ritual, about belief, and find ways to bring it back to grace. To an acceptance - a true acceptance, one not borne out of exhaustion - and continue to learn to love the Teressa that comes out of the other side of that acceptance.

This last year has been so hard. Hard in ways that I've never struggled with before. I do not believe there is some cosmic prize at the end of this finish line. I do not get the girl, I do not win the lottery, I do not get a Happily-Ever-After. Maybe no one does.

But I do get to learn just a little more about myself.

A great deal of what I've discovered over the last year has not been pretty. A huge chunk of what's been revealed about me has, in fact, been horrifying and shameful. But I am beginning to realize that there is no such thing as having too detailed a map about your inner self - craggy cliffs and raging torrents included. I know myself, in sickness and health, in ways that I never have before.

To learn those things as positives, as things to learn from...if I have any definition of "grace" that I can believe in, that is it.

This entry was originally posted at http://quirkytizzy.dreamwidth.org/1103012.html
If it comes down to writing, maybe a little reminder it is: If you want to put something down on paper (physical as well as virtual), first you need to know at all, what do you want to accomplish with it? Is it for provoking some kind of reaction at some audience - is it for yelling at the clouds to equalize yourself - is it to get a certain kind of feedback?
What do you do it for and what do you want to accomplish?
I think that's a big point in why one can keep going on or not and how you get upon the idea to leave anything behind in a week or in a month.
It's always been my understanding that while the first step into the substance of the ol' moral inventory is probably the toughest milestone of recovery, the continuing steps are an ongoing thing.

When a situation like yours gives one the opportunity to think too much, well. Does it not get out of hand?
I was thinking about peave last night. I've been feeling more peaceful of late, and I started thinking about all the people who are perpetually angry over perceived threats to their privilege (i.e. Republicans). It made me consider that maybe one key to happiness is accepting that happiness is not a birthright.

The world is a cruel and miserable place. Once we can accept that and stop feeling entitled to happiness, we can feel that much more at peace.

The observation, whether right or wrong, just felt relevant, here.