I call upon the Mover of the Universe today, asking for just a little help. I find a need for fortitude — a boost to make it through this tiring dog-eat-dog world. I’m rough around the edges and that isn’t likely to change. I’m clumsy, awkward, and enjoy swearing more than people expect. I collect and use all sorts of tools to help me understand people, because so few think like me, and I just don’t understand some of the others at all. Somehow, I’d like to be at peace with my place in the world, easing into a state of grace.
Grace is a place where the sting of another’s words has no purchase with me. It’s where others’ judgments don’t make me wonder about myself or my place in the world. It’s a state of mind that can extend compassion to all, seeing past their exterior to understand their pain, their dreams, and their open wounds. With grace, I could see who they really are and with a look and a touch, their pain would ease, because they were understood.
If I find a state of grace, I could extend the love I have for animals of all shapes, sizes, and species, to all people with the same level of automatic acceptance and openness. I would be able to pass the street-people without hesitation, walking among their filth and pain without recoil. My compassion in grace would help me observe their lives without judging them. I could see them as the spiritual equals that they truly are. Oh grace, I need you now.
Today, I see my life with new eyes and it is found lacking. Dissatisfaction drifts on the wind, and I catch the scent with every breath. With grace, I think I would press forward and find purpose and meaning in every day, regardless of who I am, what I do, and how I am lacking. Mover of the Universe, come by me here. Sit next to me. Let me lean upon your shoulder and feel the comfort of your spirit. If it’s not too much to ask, I want a sense of belonging and purchase in your heart. Perhaps there, in your solitude, I would find a touch of grace.