Dog-Eared Continuation

Once again unintentionally prompted and stimulated at First 50 Words " Prompts for Writing Practice. I wasn't intending to write anything, but my response was elicited from me by the sincere Intent of the site:

Dog-Eared

Posted on November 10, 2014

When we went through the backpack of the dead woman we found under the bridge, there

was nothing there but dog-eared copies of stolen library books. She had no ID, no clothing, nothing but books. The Harry Potter books and “A Wrinkle in Time” appeared to be her favorites, judging by the amount of use they showed. Did she have a shopping cart or some other belongings somewhere that contained more practical survival gear? I went down to the homeless camp near the railroad tracks to ask around.

My continuation...

"...the Book Lady, oh no" a bright-eyed man from the homeless camp was saying. He sounded disappointed, but not stricken. "Yes, I've seen her around. Never spoke to her. Always immersed in a book." He possessed an air of immense enjoyment. Not at that particular moment, but generally, intimating he was having the adventure of his life. "She wore good clothes, not from around here. She had a Grace to her. She wasn't graceful, but there was a distinct Grace to her." I could distinctly hear the capitalized Grace.

He turned those eyes to me, “You have it too.” I stopped. I'd not been moving, but I stopped. The camp faded from awareness, as did the

dead Book Lady, as did my inquiry, as did everything else except the concept of Grace. “Me?” My sole concern contracted on grasping this treasure. Ashamedly, somewhat, I now confess, but no, I take that back. There had been more, so much more going on. I tried to focus on the concept. Grace. 

Grace but not graceful. No-one would attempt calling my oversized bulkiness graceful. Yet I had Grace. So complete was my immersion I did not even question Mr Bright Eyes. I had absorbed his assertion. Completely. It was a revelation. His distinction between graceful and Grace had made it real to me.

Internally, I felt the transformation begin. I'd been pricked just so. Disregarding the obvious, I focused on what it could possibly mean. Grace...such a word. I was rough, loud, enthusiastic. I looked deeply into things yes, always focused on something, yes. I tried to think beyond the obvious, yes, but Grace? I realized I had accepted his statement. I wasn't questioning. I was looking for confirmation. Dangerous in my line of work. Something I assiduously avoided. Yet here I was, embroiled in establishing a proof, no, correction, I was verifying. Remarkable.

Mr Be, no, Mr B, as I now thought of him, still encompassed with his eyes. He took me

in. I knew this was a Moment. A Universal Moment. One of those Moments loosed from eternity, containing opportunity. Opportunity for change, great change, life change. I sobered to alert. Refusing the concerns and distractions of the everyday a foothold to the moment. I repelled their efforts to distract me, to force me off the moment. I marshalled my reserves resolving to put all that aside and change, there and then. Universal Moments are an inordinate gift. I had a responsibility to fly my moment all the way. Wherever it may lead. 

“Well?” Mr B inquired. More like pondered, or surmised, perhaps reflected. So much intent infused that simple “Well?” But this enticing morsel would have to wait. As intriguing as he was, as pressing as the mystery of the Book Lady's death was, they would have to wait. I had my Moment to deal with. My Universal Moment. I consciously recognized it! I recognized it Now. The discovery of this thrilled me. I had vowed and resolved long long ago to be able to know such a Moment when it came. I had wanted that ability fiercely. And Now, Here it was. 

Grace. Focus on the Grace, I reminded myself. Grace is the Key. Not Grace itself, but Grace in you. You possessing Grace. Grace not graceful. I reintegrated the elements of the Moment. Locking them into existence. These moments are often infused with a nebulous dream-like quality. If I didn't make the effort to fully connect to the core elements they might vaporize once I emerged from the immersion. The “Well?” was still in my ear.

“I am scrambling to assimilate,” came out. “No, not assimilate, integrate...” An eyebrow rose ever so faintly. The subtlest of suggestions challenging me to continue. “That isn't accurate either.” I paused, utilizing the Power of the Pause to it's fullest. “Incorporate!” Yes, I did exclaim. It was a true exclamation from my depths. Incorporate was exactly what I was doing. To the fullest extent of the word. I wasn't only taking in the idea and concept of Grace, of Grace and me, of Grace as being part of me, of Grace being me, I was letting it Be me. I was consciously and deliberately taking the concept, the gift, and bestowing it upon myself. Ingesting it into my body. I wanted to remember, I wanted to Be. I wanted Grace to be in my bones, in my Fiber, literally and figuratively. I was intent on becoming Grace, fully. I recognized what he had said. Yes, I had to acknowledge, I had it too. But having it and being it were two very different things. Having Grace without Being Grace was a waste, a shame.

“Was she Grace? Or did she merely imply it?” His eyes flared with intensity. I was inside him now. He Paused. I could see it happen. Before he even started, he paused. Taking stock. Taking care to fully integrate and explore all of the extrapolations my questions had stimulated. He wanted to reply in the full context of my question. He wanted to reply me, not reply to me, but reply Me. He did not hurry. He made no effort to take any potential discomfort, impatience or pressure from me into cognisance. He merely did what the Moment necessitated. He recognized it as well. I waited. No, waiting implies an awareness of time passing. I was on pause. I could wait forever for his reply. Time wasn't an issue. His eyes penetrated me.

“You Can Be Grace.” He said it slowly, distinctively emphasizing each distinct word. As if to impress the words upon my Being. “Yes,” I humbly acknowledged. This was no time for dancing. We were at the Heart of Things. Inside the vortex. I nearly said, “But what does it mean?” I checked myself, smiled. Delving inside to rephrase. I Re-purposed my Intent. What exactly did I need to know? Precisely what did I need? I understood and agreed that I could be Grace, that I could bring it into my Way of Being. That was not the problem. What then? Ah, I needed a clearer picture of Grace. I could not Be, I could not incorporate, what I didn't have a firm grasp of. As I transitioned to elaborating on the concept of Grace, this came to me:

“Rule190: *The more we look for Grace the more we see it, the more we express Grace, the more we Live it. We Can nurture Grace, cultivate Grace. Enough cannot be said about the Awesomeness of Grace. Living in a State of Grace.....this is a Worthy Ideal.”

Where I had seen it I couldn't say. There had been many more like this, on other topics. This one on Grace had resonated deeply. My recall, while always good, was now flawless. It was the Power of the Moment. There was more; Alternate Expressions of the Point. I remembered having liked this aspect, looking at something from multiple angles to get a clearer view. It was integral to how I did my job.

“Look for Grace, See Grace,

See Grace, Live Grace,

Live Grace, Become Grace."

"Paying attention to Grace brings it into our lives."

"An element of Grace can be found anywhere, nurtured anywhere."

"If we just look, we can find that thread of Grace, and follow it, and pretty soon we find ourselves enveloped by Grace.”

Ah yes. I remembered how it had resonated at the time. I had so loved it. Why had I not thought to apply it to myself? But something had evidently stuck. It was just taking its time to work itself into my system. “Yes,” Mr B stated. He had seen the Awareness flood my eyes. He knew something had transpired internally. He didn't press, but an explanation would be appreciated. But only if it would assist the process. No detours to be made on his behalf. I marveled at how these perceptions were so clear. They weren't foreign to me. I was familiar with this shade of nuance. It was part of how I did my job so well. Reading the nuance of people was something I had spent a great deal of time studying and practicing. But this level of clarity and assuredness was new. I was always somewhat skeptical of my perceptions and always took them as being possible until verified. But Now I knew, I Knew they were solid.

Mr B was still there. No hurry, no pressure. There had been more to that memory. It almost seemed as if he knew and was waiting for it. Ah yes, there had been. An extended perspective on the point. I quoted for him, not exactly sure how I was able to:

“Grace is so deep, so complex. It encompasses everything. Grace includes an element of power, harmony, fluidity, connectedness, purity, beauty. Grace can be gracious and soothing, or fluid and exhilarating It can be a profound feeling of joy and also of peace, but it is much more than any of these, much much more. It is a State of Being, a connected State of Being, a State of Being connected to everything. A state from which we know the marvellousness, the awesomeness, the goodness, the rightness and the exquisiteness of everything. Grace runs Deep.”

Mr B sighed. A deep sigh of contentment. A sigh of absorption. He was enveloping what I had said. Allowing it to infuse him. He smiled gloriously, revelling in the Joy and Grace. Yes, revelling. He as positively dancing within. He was celebrating me, I realized. What a gift. There had been something more I remembered. The Rule and the other expressions of it had been organized in columns. There had been a column at the end that had particularly grabbed me. It was unpretentiously labeled: “How does this Rule make a difference?”

I looked at Mr B and repeated what it had so simply stated: “It Waters Grace until it Flowers.”

He nodded, making the connection.

I had Flowered.