On Grace, Embodiment, and Being Divinely Human
It seems like year 28 for me is about grace. It's about giving myself the same grace I give others, and giving others the same grace I give myself. As I deepen into this concept, it's actually about allowing the abundance of grace and love that exists within and around me to proliferate and blossom into itself. That means allowing what is to be. Allowing… what is… to be. There's acceptance in that — there's okayness in that. So, before I begin to seek and implement solutions for things that arise, I first witness these things. Things within me such as old stories I've been repeating because of the way muscle memory works, or things outside of me that I believe I surely have the capacity to manage or control. But just because that capacity exists within me doesn't mean I must always use it. When I feel the persistent need to exercise control, it feels like I'm dissociating myself from the love energy, the God energy, that already plays the role of guide, nurturer, teacher, and supporter. This abundant energy around and within me delivers situations directly to me that spark my inspiration and action; it guides me to situations that illuminate aspects of myself or the world around me that I wouldn't otherwise allow myself to observe because I would be so consumed with the human effort usually employed to fix the situation or fix myself.
As this year is about grace, it’s also the space that grace provides. It's about amplifying goodwill and the beautiful complexity of human existence through my distinct belief in the universe's expression of itself through me — my distinct belief in myself and my gifts.
I spoke with a friend some months ago about my conversations with Self in my inner sanctum. I told her about how Self would share information with me and about how I'd be in awe of the resonance I felt — actually not believing what I was experiencing within me. She responded by lovingly asking me why I question my Self. She continued to speak, but those few words rang in my head on repeat more loudly than her warm and soothing voice. Why was I questioning my Self? My higher self; the self directly interconnected with God. Answers took no time to reveal themselves: questioning my Self kept me away from my body and deep in my mind, a very comfortable and familiar place to reside. This act allowed me to protect the identity that had come to fit me like the perfect skin suit. Accepting the wisdom my Self had to offer would mean actively saying goodbye to the Nkem I'd known forever. That's what I had thought anyway, and that's what it felt like when I decided to follow the echoes of my Self-speak rather than those of my conditioned mental voice.
What truly began to occur, though, was an incremental shedding. It's still happening now. I cannot foretell when the process will be completed. This shedding of the old self feels concurrently like a disembodied and deeply embodied experience. It feels disembodied because I am assertively guided to see myself apart from my Self — to witness my behaviors, my thoughts, my reactions and responses, without the task of doing anything about them. I am guided to simply be. And just as markedly as this renewal process feels disembodied, it is also a process of aligning my material body with my emotions, with my thoughts, with external experiences, with my God-self. Allow me to illustrate.
The concept of competence is thick and gelatinous, flowing through my being and leaving remnants of itself along my inner walls. My sun sign (Leo) resides in the 6th house, which is the house of Virgo. Virgo and its corresponding house and planet (Mercury) symbolize intellect, efficiency, communication, learning. There are other symbolic representations of Virgo, but I want to stick to themes related to competence for this illustration. I apply my astrological placements as a foundation for interpreting my holistic alignment because I've used the strength of my skepticism to realize that these astrological placements have played out in sincerity throughout my life. In other words, my astrology chart knows what it’s talking about! So, when I get an answer "right" in a class or meeting or conversation with another human, my spine sits straight, my chest is open, I feel the subtle reverberations of butterflies in my heartspace, massaging my ego and reminding me of my worth. I've done it again, I tell myself. I've reminded the world of my intellect — that I'm fully plugged in and that my abilities and capabilities flow with ease. I smile internally and my breath effortlessly reaches the nuanced spaces from my temples to my toes. I, in those moments, align my vibratory energy with my thoughts, intermingled with my emotions, all catalyzed by the singular validation of appearing competent. This whirlwind of clarity and connection resonates throughout my body like the resonance of early infatuation. I want to be there.
When I miss the mark, on the other hand, have the wrong answer to a question, am dismissed, or am asked to prove my intellect, it feels like I am being asked to prove my worth. I feel small and question my capabilities. This feeling small internally causes me to draw my shoulders together, sinking my chest into my back and protecting my heart. My spine is curved, which means previously flowing energy is quelled, and the butterflies that typically frolic in jubilance stop mid-flutter and are consumed by the darkness of the cavern forming within my heartspace, a result of my now concave chest. My breathing stops halfway through my lungs, and my sympathetic nervous system begins to stir from slumber. I ready myself on the defensive.
Where is the space and grace for me to sit in either of these materializations of humanity, or sit between them, without being fully consumed by either? I suppose that is what year 28 is about. When I see, experience, and feel grace in its magic, I associate it to freshly churned butter spread on top of a slice of freshly baked bread, on a Saturday morning, with the sun peeking through crisp green leaves, kissing my face and reminding me that I am loved. That I am human. That I am chosen.
I tell myself that rather than working towards perfection, living in full authenticity and alignment with my God-self, my magical creator, brings me ultimate satisfaction. This is true, but there remains something for me to learn about perfection during this lifetime. And not just that perfection doesn't exist, or that most of my socio-cultural programming, outside of my incarnate design, has been an effort to reach an arbitrary sense of perfection, consistently leaving me feeling inadequate. Particularly, there is something for me to learn about the encapsulation of perfection in my self-expression, my creative, celebratory soul-expression. Because I may never feel quite perfect, but may always hold the desire to achieve perfection deeply within me, the process of intentionally living in grace is upheld as a tenet of the Self I am becoming through this process of shedding — of transformation. I straighten my spine and inhale deeply from my temples to my toes, integrating this sense of acceptance into my divinely human body.
