Meeting Power and Grace
I met Power first.
At least I thought.
I controlled every thing. Held firm. Aimed for perfection. Inflexible and stubborn.
High distinction average. Money in the bank. Knew every little thing. Pushed through. Rallied. Worked my ass off.
It was a superficial power.
A dizzying act of perfection.
Never allowing myself the space to come up short.
There was nothing fluid or natural about it.
An attempt to display a strength that I really didn't have.
Every action born from a stubborn mindset
And forced onto my muscles and bones.
Through my eyes at that time, to have power was to be impenetrable.
It was an impossible puppet show.
And it was exhausting.
I think I knew somewhere in my heart that this wasn't real Power.
But she was all I had. And I gripped to her like a perfect glistening life raft.
Unsurprising, the show fell down.
The show fell down, but the sky did not.
And what I thought I knew of Power
and its right relationship with Control
Around that time, I met Grace.
The real one.
Looked right into her eyes. Into my eyes.
I met Grace when I was on my knees in grief.
We met on her terms.
She was rough and beautiful in unequal measure.
Uncomfortable in every way.
And 100% necessary.
Years later when I laboured to bring my first babe earthside
I touched Power for myself.
The real one.
There was no mistaking her.
A power from within my own bones and my own blood.
All that time. I had never known her to exist.
And here she was.
Unveiled and laid bare in those moments of pure surrender.
A power that didn't own a sense of scrambling, or any action at all.
An untapped and effortless entity.
I knew she was real because she was emanating from the depths of my body.
Spilling out from a force so deep and so
Power and I became fast friends
out of necessity. And joy.
I came to know her as
My absolute centre.
The spark right in the middle of my soul.
And so it was.
That the anguish of pure grief with my first big life loss showed me Grace.
That the unparalleled experience of my first childbirth brought me into my Power.
Life, coming in and out.
A catalyst and a gift.
Showing up with all the goods.
And thankfully, too.
Because in nurturing life - my kids, and my own
I lean on the knowledge of these solid foundations daily.
Every day I lean on
the grace to endure the trials that may be.
Every day I reach back into my memory
for the firm and real sense of Power that labour brought to me.
The I can and I will.
Touching the memory of the fearlessness and courageousness
that I know is deep inside me
sees me through.
I used to think I knew Grace.
but what it was was submission.
A dimming of my light, a shrinking back, a soft apology, rooted by inadequacy.
I used to think I knew Power.
But it was trying to be more than, trying to prove worth.
I was forcing it. Not feeling it.
Now I feel them in right relationship.
I feel them in my bones.
They stand beside me. Run through my veins.
And pour into my days.
They fill me with joy and bring me ease.
They filter my life experience
take the pressure off
and strengthen my soul.
Knowing my Power.
Finding my Grace.
I feel so glad to have met them truly.
So many times each day.