Prayer for Grace

Sometimes it is so hard to live with grace. We all have those days when we want to crawl into bed and stay there until we can breathe again without feeling like whatever is hurting will stifle you. Not talking, not being spoken to, only sound is your own breathing…we have all been there right? But you cannot. You have to wake up and be grateful for the day, get your routine started and hope for the best. So I do. I wake up every morning next to a man who loves me even when I am unlovable and God knows how I love him right back with all that I am. I know without a doubt that I am blessed.
But there are still things that weigh on my heart, no matter how loved I am or how well I can love back. It is amazing to me how something that nourishes us can also destroy us. It seems too cruel to be real. But what can you do? You keep on keeping on, I assume. You bend and contort yourself to make sure you can handle the resistance that sometimes comes with life. I am guessing it is similar to a tree branch that grows heavy with snow. If it bends with the snow it will live to see another summer eventually or it can resist the snow, break and never again know what it will feel like without the extra weight. No sunshine on my face? Not happening. I am going to keep moving, keep my head up and hope for the sun to come back soon. It always does.
I was told once that if you believe you are who you want to be…you will become it. Seems silly, right? I thought so too but it’s true. So today I am going to wish myself whole again. I am going to take some of the pain I am carrying around with me and while I am not going to forget it, because I think we need to always remember pain… I am going to try hard to turn it into joy. I can do that. Right? Yeah, I think I can.
To everyone reading these words that may be hurting over something, either big or small, my heart goes out to you. Nothing worth anything comes without some pain. I wish you grace.

love, Romy

***
Main Entry: 1grace
Pronunciation: \ˈgrās\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin gratia favor, charm, thanks, from gratus pleasing, grateful; akin to Sanskrit gṛṇāti he praises
Date: 12th century
1 a : unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b : a virtue coming from God c : a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace
2 a : approval, favor b archaic : mercy, pardon c : a special favor : privilege d : disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency e : a temporary exemption : reprieve
3 a : a charming or attractive trait or characteristic b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm c : ease and suppleness of movement or bearing
4 —used as a title of address or reference for a duke, a duchess, or an archbishop
5 : a short prayer at a meal asking a blessing or giving thanks
6 plural capitalized : three sister goddesses in Greek mythology who are the givers of charm and beauty
7 : a musical trill, turn, or appoggiatura
8 a : sense of propriety or right b : the quality or state of being considerate or thoughtful

Love Letter To Music

That song. The ones that make you stop in your tracks. If you are standing, you sit. If you are walking, you stop. If you are talking, you grow quiet. If the volume is low, you turn it up. It reminds you of a former love, a time in your life, a beloved person in your past, a heartbreak, lies you were told, lies you told, happiest time of your life. Regardless of what it reminds you of, it is that song. The one that makes you stop in your tracks.


"Tell the repo man 
And the stars above 
You're the one I love 
You're the one I love 
The one I love"
Music is the love you have, the love you fight for, the love you cherish...that you would die for. The love that is true and full of more life than you could have imagined possible.


"Nothing compares
No worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes
They are memories made.
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste"
Music is the love you had, the love you lost, the love that never truly belonged to you because if it had, it would still be the love you had. It is the love you carry in your heart to remind you to be humble and to nurture the love that now truly belongs to you.


"Es un buen tipo mi viejo
Que anda solo y esperando
Tiene la tristeza larga
De tanto venir andando.
Yo lo miro desde lejos
Pero somos tan distintos
Es que creció con el siglo
Con tranvia y vino tinto.
Viejo mi querido viejo
Ahora ya caminas lento
Como perdonando el viento.
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo.
El tiene los ojo buenos"
Music is heartache. It screams at you in the quiet moments, it steals from you over and over again. Reminds you of what you lost. It taunts you with it's ghosts and memories that will never again be yours to hold.

"In the dark of the night I could hear you calling my name
With the hardest of hearts I still feel full of pain
So I drink and I smoke and I ask you if you're ever around
Even though it was me who drove us right in the ground
See the time we shared it was precious to me"
Music is regret. It shames you. It makes you want to hide your face. It reminds you over and over again that you are capable of not just feeling hurt but of causing pain...of not doing the right thing. 

"So break me down, if it makes you feel right
And hate me now, if it keeps you all right
You can't break me down if it takes all your might
'Cause I am so much more than meets the eye"
Music reminds you of your worth. It reminds you of who you are. What you are capable of. It keeps your secrets, it speaks to the deepest part of your soul and it reminds you that regardless of anything else, that no one will ever truly comprehend how fucking beautiful and complex you are until you do.

Music is a promise. A promise that our feelings swell, stretch...sometimes out of proportion but they rebound in a million different ways. Great highs. Impossible lows. Skin of our emotions. Emotions undulating as quickly as the lyrics, melodies and beats. 

It is said that life without music is not worth living. I think that very well might be 

true. 

love, Romy