I'm sorry, I know I have been ungrateful, frightfully so. All that time inside my head, driven there by the cold and the weather and general disconnect between my body and my mind and them to the universe at large.
It makes me distracted, distracted I am a walking ball of distractedness. Crow-mind amongst the glittery things that draw my attention, I let them draw my attention in a desperate bid to draw attention away from myself. Because I'm tired of thinking about myself. Look, a bird!
I said to me "I'll allot you five minutes to find some grace, and don't come back empty handed!" ending in a yell. A quiet yell, but a yell nonetheless.
I took to the kitchen as I often do, because cooking good things to eat gives me focus and a way to slip out the back door and let go for a bit, focus, focus. You know, like the Zen monks do when they chop wood, carry water.
Grace. Grace? Where in the world was I going to find grace? I haven't had grace in the house since...well, it feels like just shy of forever. Remain calm, no freaking out, just breathe, cut, stir, simmer, taste. That's all I needed to do. While leaning against the counter, in a lull between stirring and adding the next set of ingredients to the pot, I found grace.
It consisted of a stalk of celery, slathered with some peanut butter. Just like my G-maw used to make for me when I was a kid, at her house for dinner. It was simply good.
I hadn't thought of that particular taste treat in years, don't know what made me think of it then. All I know is, standing there in the pearly north light coming through my kitchen windows, I felt warm and content, and I was thinking that, somewhere in this universe, someone wanted me to be happy.
Grace, stay with me.