Context is...
Having Grace

Context

TL;DR: Healing doesn't mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls your life.

  • Originally Written: 26-Nov-2021

  • Word Count: 714

  • Read Time: 3 minutes

Content

To do honor or credit to (someone or something) by one's presence.

Simple elegance or refinement of movement.

Courteous goodwill.

For me, grace is something embodied by the well executed plays in self-effacement one has endured through the years when what one would rather have done was say something that would invariably cause their foot to be in their mouth later.

I think people who need to tear other people down to feel good are awful people.

Not to tear anyone down or anything, I just can't deal.

In fact, when I'm confronted with such acts, I often freeze up.

I don't know how to be because I know that talking shit isn't where I want to be.

I'd rather be in a place where I could talk shit about the guy I used to be, for it would demonstrate a step-change in learning from a former self on a particular matter.

What do I mean?

I mean the only person you should be competing with in life is yourself. Or, rather, all the voices inside your head telling you you're not good or deserving enough of the things you want for yourself.

Furthermore, when one reaches a point in time in life where they can laugh at the person they can be sometimes, it shows a level of self-understanding and compassion that yields them nothing but bounty.

Nothing but daisies, really.

In fact, I would reckon that the bounties in life we seek to obtain are as finite as our ego is brazen.

If you're a dick, you're not gonna get shit.

In fact, you're probably gonna get shit on even more.

More than what you even wanted in the first place.

Which is nothing.

But you can't get that, honey.

Criticism is a function of existing, not being an invalid.

Given that, if one must offer up their critique, do so kindly.

Affirm the person for what they're trying to do, even if it sucked.

Everyone wants to be acknowledged for trying.

Everyone.

But for fuck's sake, when you get to the part where you have to say what's on your mind, do so carefully.

Do so kindly.

Do so compassionately.

Do in a way in which you wish others would do to you when it is your turn.

You cannot expect the same in return but, dammit, you are an artist in my mind if you can adequately find a place where you can show grace while also reading a person to filth.

People need to hear the things they need to hear.

But how they hear what they need to hear impacts how they will respond to the person telling them what they need to hear.

What I'm saying here is there are consequences to our actions.

When we snarl, scowl, bicker, and primp one another, what we are doing is tearing each other down.

Maybe not visibly, maybe not quickly, but eroding one another nonetheless.

The passage of time is cruel to those who live on the coast, for the motion of the waves alone will tear away their homes in years to come.

So too, do our ideas of ourselves wither like flowers in a garden when we let weeds grow around us and allow them to fester.

Pruning is what one must do with the thoughts, perspectives, and opinions of others if one is to survive the embattlement caused by the generations of influencers and media alike.

For if we are to ever see life coming up daisies for us, work must be constant.

Constant, but not egregious.

Tending to a garden isn't hard if you do just a little bit every day.

There's no need for overhauls, just course correcting.

No need for reinventions, just minor adjustments.

No demand for an update, just another iteration.

When we get to a point where we can look at ourselves as people just trying their best in a universe we understand less than what we know, we find grace.

Grace for the person just doing what they can with the means they've been given to do so.

Grace for the person who didn't do the things they wished they would have done.

Grace for the person in-step with ourselves as we move down this line called time.

Grace for the person we call on as ourselves as we lead a life called 'mine'.