grace

No human is, or can be perfect, all are fallible, yet capable of grace. I am happily so. Having my dysfunctions known. Amongst them able to choose, to use, or be used, by them mindfully. In the process losing any fear of life or death or envy of the grace in others I know. It is an estate that must be given away in measures large and small as kindness not greed. Thus gifting allows grace to grow. The only profit and accrued wealth I care about.

At that, this I know best, my dyslexia is a gift. Understanding what I can change and cannot. This life I live is like all others having a beginning-middle-and-ending; different only in my choice of narrative, coupled with attention to the interlocutor. Who I call by various names, not beckoning but seeking answers. Variously, but at the moment, merely “dipstick.” At other times: friend, lover, mistress, muse, playmate, sandbox buddy of any gender or none.

All my myths, omens, portents, personal to me, are pointless since I can find them in others defined differently. Not mutually exclusive but their gift combined with mine; potential and pregnant experienced in this moment, this now.

. . . and the other loved knowing this moment may never be again: the sky blank, black, a void devoid of stars: the emerald, brown or blue or as mine hazel what I think of as turquoise never ever to see ever again.

He preceded me bearing three or four giant bottles of root beer in the grocery line. To which or whom I remarked; “I guess you really like root beer.” No response. Then as he paid I noticed Airborne Wings upon his cap, his silence might be attributable to hearing loss given his age. So I asked, “What Division?” . . . no one and nothing is merely anything . . . remembering what he said with tears of joy in my eyes . . . in parting I said “God Bless You” . . . having no authority other than my admiration. So, we both, were blessed in a way unaccountable.

“Today is a good day to die”

What I know as “The Warrior's Creed”

has nothing to do with indifference

courage in the face of life better expresses it.

The peace I know inexplicable, ineffable, unaccountable what I know better with each passing hour eons ago is what historically attributable to Jesus and others at their end. Daily in the ordinary of their time given freely away to all in kindness thinking momentarily of Anne Frank.

Once long long ago the new day was celebrated but now each moment. Sharply focused revealed in high contrast the tapestry of time invisible timeless unending

capture credit Hector Mediavilla Picturetank

130511 02:42 grace

© 2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved