Isn’t grace a beautiful feature? Walking down a busy street, she barely touches you, but you can’t ignore her. Most people struggle to get where they want to be; avoiding other pedestrian in an impulsive, unaware kind of way.
Not her.
She glides between them with a smile on her face. Her eyes are wide open, but she doesn’t see the street, or the people. She doesn’t hear the cars and the noise. She is aware of it all, of course, but she doesn’t really belong to this world, and she knows it. This world only touches her in the gentlest kind of ways.
She is grace.
She knows the beauty of life on the most intimate levels. It resides in every cell of her body; the knowledge that we are more than we think we are and that everything is always connected in the ways we can’t even imagine. For her, life is just a play with rules that come as natural as breathing; a perfect mess of freedom and entanglement.
Because of that, she has a power. People sense it and move away from her path automatically and with some kind of respect in their eyes. They want that gift, but it can’t be learned, taught, or bought. For some people it simply is, and for others it never will be.
For her, nothing is degrading or dirty. It comes out untarnished from the ugliest of situations and it makes complex things natural and easy. It flows like a river and just like the water; it changes shape and appearance, spontaneously adjusting to any situation.
Soon, she disappears from my sight as the crowd grows bigger. Someone bumps into me and I wake up, realizing I don’t have that power, but I can admire it and enjoy it anyway.
