"Grace"

Grace is the composure that comes naturally when your thoughts are no longer able to shift your mind away from the details of the moment. Because we don’t burden ourselves with the weight of unnecessary, idle fantasies, we can be lighter. When we feel less weighed down, we can move our lives without resistance and with greater precision. We can respond to situations with creativity rather than with fixed ideas, and can encounter each moment of our lives with ease….Living with grace also means that we are able to flow naturally and with an ease of movement because we have stopped grabbing and flailing our arms out to take hold of and control everything that passes in front of us. Grace comes from a willingness to be open to exactly what is in front of you as it is. Things that used to get lost in the background suddenly become more vivid. We hear birds singing more clearly. We feel the breeze against every little hair on our necks, arms, and shoulders. We are able to feel everything without adding distracting ideas to the feeling. When we bring our minds to rest with our breath over and over again, we are returning to the current moment. We are practicing coming back to home, being in now…When you learn to be more patient than your thoughts are persistent, they stop showing up and cluttering the space in your mind. When that happens, even if it is only for a few moments, there is nothing left but you. Without your thoughts there to tell you that you are you, there’s really nothing left at all.

~ Angel Kyodo Williams, in Being Black: Zen and the Art of Living with Fearlessness and Grace

My mother suffers from macular degeneration, a disease of the eye that limits vision to a peripheral view, with darkness in the center and an inability to see “straight on.” It is a progressive disease, and she has been “lucky” so far in that mainly one eye has been affected, and the other compensates somewhat. Poo-pooing the doctor’s advice to slow the progression of the disease by giving up smoking, she continues to live her life in the Sinatra mantra she personally adopted, “I DID IT MY WAY.” She can still read, the passion and joy in her life, and watch television or movies with some difficulty. She hates that she cannot drive, nor judge colors as she once could—leading to occasional lapses of wearing hot pink hose with a red outfit or other sartorial goofs that are a horror to a woman who has always taken great pride in her appearance.

At times, she rages against her condition—at the least it is always an irritation to her. She has learned to cope by having everything in its place. Her once-a-week housekeeper has worked for her for years, and is careful to return articles to their proper spot. Mother dreads company, as every empty glass left out of place is a personal affront. Her only brother and his daughter visited from California for three days last month, and all I heard was a litany of complaints about how difficult their visit was on her. My uncle has the early stages of Parkinson’s disease. He is physically slow, but still intent on seeing and doing and experiencing—not giving up. Mother is in great health, with the exception of her eyesight and early signs of emphysema. But she has become so insular, so intent on controlling every thing, every event, every moment—that she is miserable. She is so bogged down that she seldom appreciates all that she has in life.

Yesterday, as my husband drove up the curving road that follows the deep ravine of the creek, I was aware of sunlight-dappled rhododendron leaves in the darkness and the open white blossoms of the mountain laurel. The fleeting thought, “I hope I’ll always remember this sight,” tiptoed with light awareness on my consciousness. Just a split-second of beauty—a common occurrence when you live in a forest—but for me it was one of those occasions of Grace, with a capital G, that bless me with delight in my life and my surroundings. If I could impress one thing upon those who read what I write—what I would chose for my epitaph—it would be to appreciate at least one instance of beauty in life every day. When we can manage that, we begin to understand what happiness is. It isn’t if we got an A on the exam; there is always another one tomorrow. It isn’t a day of everything going just like we want or plan; tomorrow, it may not. It isn’t making money, going on vacation, or getting a book published—because there is always the possibility of a stock market crash, an accident, or some other major crisis. But, if we can find one moment of each day to feel thankful for, one moment that we wish to keep with us always, our lives will be joyous. And, as that awareness expands, we find more and more moments.

I share my mother’s passion for books, and work in a library. I picked up Angel Kyodo Williams’ slim black volume quoted above with the intent to gain insight in the black experience. Ms. Williams taught me much about myself. The title offers a way of living with fearlessness and grace: Do not we all live in fear? Fear of being judged: not good enough, not rich enough, not beautiful enough, not smart enough, not enough.

One of the hardest lessons I am having to learn is that no matter what I do for my mother, it is never enough, but that lack is not my own. I need not accept it. This is the first step in letting go of it, of not allowing it to eat at me. This realization brings acceptance of who I am, and who my mother is, and prevents her perceptions or fears to influence my happiness. It is one of the hardest practices I have undertaken. Yet I know the love she feels for me is foremost in her life, and that soothes the path.

Macular degeneration is a hereditary disease. My mother’s mother had it also. I hope it is not an inheritance I will receive. But if it is in my future, I hope I can accept it with fearlessness and grace, remember all of the beautiful sights I have experienced every day, and continue to “see” with appreciation the abundance and love that is my life.  

~ Gabrielle M. Thompson, Summer 2001
© 2001 Gabrielle M. Thompson

Gabrielle Thompson lives with her husband Ed and daughter Lyric in the mountains of western North Carolina at Eco-Cove, a 117-acre wildlife sanctuary and trout farm. She has a degree in Anthropology, works in the library at the local community college, and is a free-lance writer. Previously, she helped Ed build, sail, and charter the 75' schooner, SATORI, for 14 years in the Virgin Islands.  Gabrielle recently finished a novel, Adventures in Paradise. "...keep me in your thoughts & prayers until I get an agent & book deal!"