The slide into grace comes the moment true words stumble from lips into air,the moment a guard is dropped and a raw, (usually) bloody wound is revealed as if to say: I am nothing and everything, too and this is all of me and none of me, too.
We do this—sometimes—but not often enough to change the direction of our spinning earth and not enough to know how our bones will shake with gratitude and our muscles will sing with the freedom of dropping the guard the secrets we hold are the ones we create, to save us, to hold us.
There are those ones we build for protection, out of shame or necessity—and there are the secrets that trace back to the beginning, with the birth, life and death of our ancestors, the ones that came before us, their learning diluted and morphed over the years by the different blood lines that run together
And the lessons and choices they charged towards or shrunk away from landed like sediment in their bones so we are who we are and we are who they are—and through our own sifting and adapting and releasing, we alter the make up of our cells and what we share with the hearts that follow our footsteps.
This is not light work; most days it is not easy and the cries may be loud and sorrowful and some days, the reorganizing of our make up will bring us to our knees.
(And maybe, we might have moment where all we can do is laugh too-loudly until tears find their way down our cheeks.)
We will want to give up and run, flee, as far away as we can or swallow the truth as we tread in place, head barely above water and this we call life.
(The other secret is this: we always have a choice—we can invite grace in through any door or window that will open or we can let the weight of it all drown us)
What do you choose?