I cherish grace. I notice it. I collect it.
In my mind. In my body. In my things. In my clothes. In my home. In my speech. In my relationships. In my moves. In my life.
I gather the pieces of it and I wedge each one in my memory.
I can always consciously go back to this collage.
It makes my life what it is and what I'm trying to make it. Graceful.
By no means am I trying to say that my life is all beautiful.
I have my moments and periods of fear, anxiety, anger, shame, guilt. I know these quite intimately.
I don't idealize that at some point, even at the end of my life it will all be clean and pretty.
It won't be. It isn't. And that's ok.
I forgive and accept myself and people around me for not always being beautiful.
But it makes me owe to see a moment of grace, a beautiful thing, a nobility and kindness in a person, and I make it a memory.
I make it a part of myself.
This is what makes me strive. I want to remember more of it.
It makes me go further to get more grace in my life. Daily.
I enjoy the beauty of the curves and lines of my body.
I love my beautiful kids. I keep their smiley squint of Yuri's eye in my head, short and long term memory. Alissa's walk. Her mouth falling off my nipple as she falls fast asleep.
I love seeing the caring affection of my parents, their faces.
I love watching my partner move. His stare at me.
I love the food. Not the junk, but the one that does good to your body, feeds and nourishes it. The colorful, fresh.
I love the sound of laughter, a groan of excitement, a quiet conversation that only makes sense to the two.
The feel of loving touch, a hug, a smoochy kiss, a stroke of hair.
Those are not shallow images.
Those are the grace in it`s manifestation.
The light of life.