There but for the Grace of God...

Ah, the first cup of morning coffee! There’s nothing like it. And then, sitting down to my journal after checking the spate of spam in my email inbox! That’s even better!

I mean, if I don’t receive anything inspiring or any love from friends or family first thing in the morning, then what better gift than to be able to sit down and produce some love.

If I do some creative writing each day, I feel I have fulfilled a need in myself that is a healthy one.

I have said many times before that writing is my therapy. I get to talk to myself, be real about the happenings in my life, the people who love and who challenge me daily, the tasks and obstacles before me that I need to address.

I feel especially lucky when I realize that there are people who pay a psychiatrist an ongoing hefty fee for just such an exercise in self expression, believing it will help heal them of their doubts, fears, insecurities and all other ills that stem from the mind, whose roots go down into a broken heart, a shattered spirit. Counseling is of course a valid way of dealing with pain, but so is self expression in whatever forms it may manifest.

And then there are those you meet on the street everyday, who are a walking breathing example of such ills left to fester untreated.

Of course the spirit cannot be broken, but what can be broken is our connection to it within us.

Every morning I pray that my connection to Spirit not be lost, that I maintain vigilance in the delicate balance between living in the world and dancing in the spirit. And I pray for the same for all my family, friends and relations. Relations include all with whom I have a relationship, co-workers, store clerks, people passing on the street sharing a friendly smile, and of course, those in desperate need huddled in blankets on the streets.

If I can’t give them anything tangible, then I say a silent prayer for them and don’t allow myself the luxury of judging their plight.

As the old saying goes, There but for the Grace of God go I.