Five Year Plan

There are modes of living that seem almost impossible to me. That tree, for example – how long did it grow while impaled on the iron fence? In its death it becomes an ode to the defiance of gravity, of enduring despite. But in its stability there is also instability. I understand the latter. It’s stability which seems an inaccessible grace for me. Perhaps for many of my generation.

I am thinking of my ongoing job search. I think of the migration to the states and back again. Before that, to Australia and back again. Continents blur. Weather and photographs and study and marriage and love and bedbugs and driving in terrifying snowstorms and fretting about the rent and the utilities, the pacing through hot streets and under dismal bridges searching, going about my day. The knowledge that the next five years may prove to be just the same.

The economy is ailing. The recovery is jobless. A flicker of breath at the lips. Chance seems to rule the day. May you live in interesting times. The unstable market, the stalls folding one after another. Those remaining grasp their goods to their chest, eyeing me as I walk by.

Some people hunker down, collude, gain. Other people march and riot. Some things improve, others continue to deteriorate slowly, secretively, like old wallpaper succumbing to spores.

There is, among this, a different kind of grace to hold us together in this period of aftermath. I am not thinking of The Tree of Life, which I haven’t seen – the way of nature, the way of grace – why would there be such a dichotomy? I’m thinking of faith in moments. I’m thinking of the stilled sky at dusk. Of the way that woman in the Pina Colada stand has closed her eyes, is holding the city crowds back.

There is grace in the quiet operatic singing I hear from my upstairs neighbour, normally so chaotic (a bedsheet she has hung out of the window to dry after a flood, still there four days later).

There is grace in the hand that helps you up. In solidarity with those who need it most, I think even if you cannot help directly, there is grace in thinking of them. Of being always humane. Of reading to learn your humanity and maintaining conscientious engagement with the world. Of applying this where you can, small amounts of grace that will never run out in the way of money. More like daylight, ebbing and flowing with what you can give, if you are too depleted  and need retreat and rest.

There is grace in getting through despair. Not denying it. Not shuffling sorrow and disappointment under the rug. In tholing them. In realistic optimism. In siting on the sofa, looking at your hands as they age in front of you.

In trust. In doubt. In the smell of coffee, even if you can no longer drink it. The bloom of bread rising in the oven, though you can no longer eat it, because your stomach has shrunk or grown weak.

In the secular and sacred moments, when the sun comes out, when the wind blows the hair about you, and the air is full of water molecules a billion years old.

There is grace in never giving up.

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13 Comments

Filed under 2012, celebration, Edinburgh, New York, Scotland, The Now, Theory

13 responses to “Five Year Plan

  1. CJ

    There is grace in you my fiend and magic. Thank you for that.

  2. CJ

    That’s Friend, not fiend for god’s sake.

  3. What to say? This was beautiful and moving.

  4. “Of reading to learn your humanity and maintaining conscientous engagement with the world.” This. Yes, yes, yes.
    There is nothing I love more than when your dreamlike pictures leads to this state where your internal thoughts are shared with all of us. Beautifully said.

  5. I am reminded of WH.Davies poem ‘Leisure’ for some reason, perhaps grace gives us that time to appreciate, appreciating is so undervalued and so yet such a magic tool for changing once’s perception of any situation or day or time, even a clue to the next thing awaiting us. To who we really are.

    Wonderfully inspiring post, keep doing 🙂

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