'Every man follows his own path in search of grace, whatever that grace may be ... without our knowing whether this closes or finally opens the path or where the path may lead us ...'
Jose Saramago, Baltasar and Blimunda, p166
This resonates with me perhaps more than I expected it to, for reasons which I am trying to map out.
So bear with me.
What is grace?
Having searched the various meanings of the word, the closest I came to which would explain why it feels special in the current context is when grace means 'divine kindness'.
And why is this important? For it explains what I do and it is as if I have understood my actions, as if I have read an all important footnote which changes mere ritual into something meaningful.
Where lies grace for a generic human?
Is it in the toothless smile of a child?
Is it in the holding of a hand, delicate and loving with just the right amount of pressure to know someone cares?
Is it in the sense of achievement that comes after a long and painful wait filled with dark thoughts and desperation?
Is it in words of appreciation or recognition, words which lift you above the mundane even if transient?
Is it in the company of grief and loss punctuated by a loved one's tears?
Does grace fill those fleeting moments where one regains the innocence to believe in beauty, the courage to think with one's heart and the conviction to act for the greater good?
Perhaps grace is a place where the human becomes less generic.
'The world seems resistant but carries within it for ever the desire to be transformed into something higher'
Ben Okri, A way of being free, p6
Jose Saramago, Baltasar and Blimunda, p166
This resonates with me perhaps more than I expected it to, for reasons which I am trying to map out.
So bear with me.
What is grace?
Having searched the various meanings of the word, the closest I came to which would explain why it feels special in the current context is when grace means 'divine kindness'.
And why is this important? For it explains what I do and it is as if I have understood my actions, as if I have read an all important footnote which changes mere ritual into something meaningful.
Where lies grace for a generic human?
Is it in the toothless smile of a child?
Is it in the holding of a hand, delicate and loving with just the right amount of pressure to know someone cares?
Is it in the sense of achievement that comes after a long and painful wait filled with dark thoughts and desperation?
Is it in words of appreciation or recognition, words which lift you above the mundane even if transient?
Is it in the company of grief and loss punctuated by a loved one's tears?
Does grace fill those fleeting moments where one regains the innocence to believe in beauty, the courage to think with one's heart and the conviction to act for the greater good?
Perhaps grace is a place where the human becomes less generic.
'The world seems resistant but carries within it for ever the desire to be transformed into something higher'
Ben Okri, A way of being free, p6
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