Sunday, January 29, 2012
Easy Does It
My preoccupation with grace continues. I think about it all the time, wherever I go, whatever I do and with whomever I may be. I try to perform all my actions gracefully, and not just activities that require graceful movement for optimum effectiveness, such as yoga, dancing, or walking. I make a point of doing even nothing gracefully. My body likes it. I tend to do less damage to myself when I just sit or stand with as much ease and grace as possible. So I figure grace must be good for me.
The biggest challenge in practising a life of grace has been in my relationships. I try to relate to everyone - family, friends, colleagues and strangers as graciously as I can. Most of the time this isn't an issue for me. If things are going well and people are being polite and respectful, I don't have to stop and think about my reactions to every little thing that transpires. I just go with the flow. And going with the flow tends to be graceful. You know - no struggling or resisting - just free and easy movement.
However, ever since I instituted this new grace-wherever-I-can policy, I've noticed a distinct increase in my vulnerability to slights and hurts from less-than-gracious people. I've admitted before in this forum that I'm a bit of a drama queen, and although I've curtailed my penchant for real-life drama considerably over the years, I still tend to "put myself out there" when it comes to expressing myself, especially when I'm in a good mood. I could be discussing something as banal as the weather, but if I'm feeling good and want to express an opinion on it, I might momentarily "act it out." Nothing over the top or anything, just a bit of slightly eccentric, idiosyncratic behaviour. Sometimes I like being silly. It's harmless fun that amuses me, and usually amuses other people, too. But that's just the sort of thing that has always caused me trouble with people who misinterpret and mistrust my behaviour, even though they may be amused by it. They may laugh, but not necessarily with me.
The easiest way for me to practice graceful living is to strip away extraneous words and actions. Keep it simple. Do everything with as much ease as possible. My new habits have caused me to talk less and listen more. Nothing wrong with that. But there are still occasions when someone has said something that is as thoughtless as it is unnecessary. That's when my recently adopted practice is really put to the test. So I stop, breathe deeply, and ask myself what is the most gracious way to respond to this situation? By taking the time to decide how I'll respond, I've already done the graceful thing. Once the moment has passed I feel slightly taller, and a whole lot wiser. And to think it requires so little effort. Sometimes less really is more.
Now that there's less of me - less show and tell, less in-your-face, less crap to dig through to grasp my meaning - I'm a lot more vulnerable than I used to be. But vulnerability can be a powerful defense. Only the rudest, most angry and unhappy people feel empowered by attacking the ostensibly weak and defenseless. A true warrior gets no satisfaction from an unworthy opponent who doesn't offer any real threat or challenge. (I'm finally beginning to appreciate the warrior poses in yoga. It's about being a spiritual warrior; fighting the good fight and taking aim against my inner demons.) Being vulnerable doesn't necessarily mean leaving yourself open to attack. It's about revealing your true self, which is understandably something we're not always willing to do. The psychologist and author David Richo says that our deepest wounds can be openings to the best and most beautiful part of ourselves.
My good friend Calvin, who is one of the most gracious people I know, once said to me "It doesn't matter what happens, my dear, just as long as you look good." Taken out of context, those words seem shallow and superficial, but I know exactly what Calvin meant. We can't always control what happens to us. The only thing we can control is how we react. We choose our response.
It's taken me a lot of mistakes and bad choices to realize that when misfortune or hardship strikes, I still have the option of behaving with grace and dignity. Okay, I admit that I've never experienced the worst indignities that extreme cruelty and oppression can create. Extreme circumstances often call for extreme measures. Yet Mahatma Gandhi chose extreme actions time and again - hunger strikes, passive resistance to violence - and still maintained his integrity, as well as the dignity of an entire nation.
I'm finally learning how to use a former weakness as a strength. It requires absolutely no compromise on my part. In fact, it's made me more honest and open. Sure, it can be scary, and leave me even more exposed to ridicule, but I've stopped making things worse by reacting badly. Even if I end up with egg on my face, I remove it as gracefully as possible.
- G. P.
The biggest challenge in practising a life of grace has been in my relationships. I try to relate to everyone - family, friends, colleagues and strangers as graciously as I can. Most of the time this isn't an issue for me. If things are going well and people are being polite and respectful, I don't have to stop and think about my reactions to every little thing that transpires. I just go with the flow. And going with the flow tends to be graceful. You know - no struggling or resisting - just free and easy movement.
However, ever since I instituted this new grace-wherever-I-can policy, I've noticed a distinct increase in my vulnerability to slights and hurts from less-than-gracious people. I've admitted before in this forum that I'm a bit of a drama queen, and although I've curtailed my penchant for real-life drama considerably over the years, I still tend to "put myself out there" when it comes to expressing myself, especially when I'm in a good mood. I could be discussing something as banal as the weather, but if I'm feeling good and want to express an opinion on it, I might momentarily "act it out." Nothing over the top or anything, just a bit of slightly eccentric, idiosyncratic behaviour. Sometimes I like being silly. It's harmless fun that amuses me, and usually amuses other people, too. But that's just the sort of thing that has always caused me trouble with people who misinterpret and mistrust my behaviour, even though they may be amused by it. They may laugh, but not necessarily with me.
The easiest way for me to practice graceful living is to strip away extraneous words and actions. Keep it simple. Do everything with as much ease as possible. My new habits have caused me to talk less and listen more. Nothing wrong with that. But there are still occasions when someone has said something that is as thoughtless as it is unnecessary. That's when my recently adopted practice is really put to the test. So I stop, breathe deeply, and ask myself what is the most gracious way to respond to this situation? By taking the time to decide how I'll respond, I've already done the graceful thing. Once the moment has passed I feel slightly taller, and a whole lot wiser. And to think it requires so little effort. Sometimes less really is more.
Now that there's less of me - less show and tell, less in-your-face, less crap to dig through to grasp my meaning - I'm a lot more vulnerable than I used to be. But vulnerability can be a powerful defense. Only the rudest, most angry and unhappy people feel empowered by attacking the ostensibly weak and defenseless. A true warrior gets no satisfaction from an unworthy opponent who doesn't offer any real threat or challenge. (I'm finally beginning to appreciate the warrior poses in yoga. It's about being a spiritual warrior; fighting the good fight and taking aim against my inner demons.) Being vulnerable doesn't necessarily mean leaving yourself open to attack. It's about revealing your true self, which is understandably something we're not always willing to do. The psychologist and author David Richo says that our deepest wounds can be openings to the best and most beautiful part of ourselves.
My good friend Calvin, who is one of the most gracious people I know, once said to me "It doesn't matter what happens, my dear, just as long as you look good." Taken out of context, those words seem shallow and superficial, but I know exactly what Calvin meant. We can't always control what happens to us. The only thing we can control is how we react. We choose our response.
It's taken me a lot of mistakes and bad choices to realize that when misfortune or hardship strikes, I still have the option of behaving with grace and dignity. Okay, I admit that I've never experienced the worst indignities that extreme cruelty and oppression can create. Extreme circumstances often call for extreme measures. Yet Mahatma Gandhi chose extreme actions time and again - hunger strikes, passive resistance to violence - and still maintained his integrity, as well as the dignity of an entire nation.
I'm finally learning how to use a former weakness as a strength. It requires absolutely no compromise on my part. In fact, it's made me more honest and open. Sure, it can be scary, and leave me even more exposed to ridicule, but I've stopped making things worse by reacting badly. Even if I end up with egg on my face, I remove it as gracefully as possible.
- G. P.
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