I am a sensitive and gentle being, but I live roughly. I am heavy footed, heavy handed. If I see a rail, most likely I will try to hang off of it. If I see a step, I will most likely jump on it. I like touching things, experiencing them. I have thunderous laughter that is infectious. Even the way I walk, ever since I was young, people would say they could tell it was me from a mile away because my gait is very distinct. I like these things about myself.
But I am not graceful.
I used to also be hopelessly clumsy, able to trip on a strand of hair or an imaginary speck of dust. Thankfully, mindfulness practice has eliminated my accident-prone tendencies. I am more aware of my body, its movement and presence in itself as I navigate through the world. I have discovered, however, that even though I have grown out of my clumsiness, grace is an entirely separate thing.
It did not take my mother long to realize I was a rambunctious child. I was literally jumping off of all the furniture, knocking things over, and I broke things, daily. Our house was built such that all of the rooms were connected so I could run in a circle through the entire house. Our house was my playground. As a preventative measure, all of the furniture in our house was rounded. Meaning, there were no right angles on the tables, on the chairs, on the sofa, on anything. My mother specifically purchased rounded tables, curvy furniture, smooth corners, just because she didn’t want us to get hurt. I love my mom.
As an adult, I don’t have rounded furniture. Our world is constructed of inevitable corners and 90-degree edges. My furniture is all angular, with straight lines, hard edges. For a long time this meant I was always walking around playing joust with the furniture and my legs. As I grew more mindful, I amazingly have ceased all such incidents. It has been magical.
My home is still my playground. I have what is the equivalent of a padded bench, which I leap over as if I were vaulting. I give a running start toward my bed, do a flip and stand up on the other side. I have a pole that I’ve installed in the living room to practice flips and use for strength training. I hang off the molding in the doorframe to stretch. I do handstands in the hallway.
I think because I have always been so boisterous I grew to appreciate grace. Maybe that’s why I adore dance so much; body awareness expressing grace moves me. Even outside of dance, I enjoy elegance as a trait I admire in others. I enjoy delicateness because it balances my roughness.
On day 26 of my 365 Release I am letting go of a piece of clothing that I purchased because it looked graceful. It’s like a sleeveless cape/shawl that one wears like a vest. See, I don’t even know how to describe it let alone wear it. It is flowing, and when you wear it, the black cloth drizzles around your arms like a waterfall. Clearly, I bought it for the same reason I bought the red stilettos from Day 15. It is something I desire, but it does not necessarily have to be on myself. Grace. I want someone to wear this piece elegantly, gracefully, and breathe into it the finesse and life I adore with admiration.
I do have to say, though, I also love when people wear what makes them feel most comfortable. Comfort is attractive. So yes, stilettos and elegant dresses are a delectable treat to admire because I know someone is putting thought and effort into it, but seeing someone in their favorite pair of tennis shoes, a hoodie and a hat always makes me smile.
[I created the 365 Release Project to practice non-attachment, letting go and change by giving away 1 thing a day for 1 year. The background, vision and guidelines to the 365 RELEASE project are here. The running list of everything I have released is here.]
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