Grace, Like Rain

by Julie on July 27, 2010 · 15 comments

“Grace is always falling like rain. We just have to be open to receive it.” ~Amma
Grace is Everywhere

Grace is Everywhere


Tenderness, Power and Grace

This is the third post in a series of three: Tenderness, Power and Grace.  All three posts are deeply intertwined. They’ve been born from the deepest, most raw feelings I experienced as I let the images of Sakineh Mohammadie Ashtiani (and the intense feelings of hatred and violence towards women and girls that seem to be so evident in our global community) wash over me.

I sometimes paint with Chris Zydel. It’s process painting, where the process – what happens during the process of painting – is the focus rather than the finished painting itself. On a Thursday, just after learning about Sakineh, I painted this painting, titled Grace is Everywhere. That was three weeks ago. Since then, I have been writing about what I experienced through the process of painting that day: tenderness, power and grace.

For whatever reason (maybe no reason at all), I waited until this last post to include the painting process. In this last post, I’m going back to the beginning. I’m taking us back full circle.

I’ve written about this type of painting before. What I want to share, here, is what happened this particular time.

I had been filled with these intense emotions after reading and writing about Ashtiani. At that time, I wrote a post about the power we women have to create change…how the power of our coming together can change things. And, even though I know there’s power in circles and that we can effect change, I also felt powerless to do something myself, something to free this woman from the hands of tyrannical forces that hold such misogynistic views of women, and on a deeper level, powerless to change the way women are disrespected, oppressed and hated, the way children are of such seemingly insignificant worth in a society that seems to value greed, consumption and violence. Power and powerlessness.

The more I sat with these feelings, the more anger, frustration, and futility I felt at a world that seems to not be able to see, really see just how much unresolved distrust and fear there is simmering under the surface between the genders.


The Process…

And so, when I arrived to paint, the process took over as I selected colors for my palette…or, rather the colors picked me: blood red, black, yellow, purple, and gold.

As I began to paint, the feelings spread out onto the paper: grief, anger and rage, powerlessness and power, hope and futility. They flooded the page through the paint.

Big, wide brushstrokes of blood red: stoning, death, power over the powerless.

Bright brushstrokes of yellow: the brightness of hope.

Swaths of black, deep dark black, so heavy they flooded the bottom of the picture: mourning and grief that could only be expressed with a black that was void of all light.

As I painted, I stayed with the feelings that appeared.


Tenderness that is Grace

Then, something else showed up. I felt a tenderness come through, a tenderness that wanted to be expressed differently – through my fingers rather than the brush. Quivering tenderness.

I put the brush down and submerged my fingers in the paint. The black paint along with this beautiful gold paint, a gold that flowed directly from the tenderness quivering in my fingertips. Black for grief and mourning in the immediate presence of the gold of tenderness.

As I painted, I could feel the word grace come forth as the gold began to make itself known on the paper alongside the black. Grace in the middle of death and grief. Then my fingers chose red and gold – grace appearing with power and powerlessness. As my fingers scooped up the yellow of hope, grace came along, too.

Grace appeared with everything I was feeling. It had a distinct ‘feel’ and color to it, as did all the other feelings; but the thing that stood out so starkly to me, was the deep wisdom that arose about the absolute necessity of feeling everything with conscious awareness, without pushing away any difficult emotions or aspects of the experience. Grace was not there in place of the dark emotions, it was there with them, alongside them, intermingling with them.

Grace made itself known through the direct and conscious willingness to feel the entirety of everything, and the depth of it all; this willingness was cradled by the process of painting itself.


Visceral and Palpable

The grace was visceral and palpable, and made me keenly aware of the possibility of knowing such grace in the middle of the darkest of our experiences. Even when things seem most without hope, grace is always present, falling like rain. Grace’s presence is not a question – it is always here; rather, it’s our willingness to be vulnerable in the most raw and uncomfortable places, a vulnerability that opens us like a flower, so that we can receive grace’s shower.

This willingness to see things just as they are, to feel the immensity of feelings associated with all that is happening to our planet, to the human race, to all living creatures can open us to receive the tenderness and wisdom of transformation. This grace brings the sweetest tenderness, palpable in the body and heart, a tenderness that is much more powerful than the tyranny we see today, because it is kissed with the rain of grace.

This willingness to see things just as they are opens us to see ourselves with tenderness, to see the creativity and love that resides deep in the folds of our divine robes of feminine flesh, and to know we are sacred beings with a sacred creativity to be shared. This is the soft power that we are here to bring forth at this time on the planet.

Just as the painting process held this process of revealing, so can any process of expression provide a container with which to know something greater than ourselves. Whether it’s painting, dancing, writing or any of the myriad ways we can express what’s within, whatever we choose can be the container that helps us welcome out what is wanting to unfold. It is being with all that arises, feeling it deep in the body, and allowing its wisdom to teach us a new way.

It helps me to know that grace is with me when I open to seeing what is happening here on our earth, in these places that feel too painful to look. When I know that grace is here, too, even in these places of darkness, I know I am not alone. And, I know the power of transformation grace offers. What if this life force, that is held in these darkest places could transform into light? into the light of awareness and awakeness? In this time of global shift, it is exactly this awareness we must learn to bring to even the hardest things to be with.

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And, what about Ashtiani? What about grace for her, for others who are in imminent danger, others who are oppressed and victimized? I do know that if we’re willing to see directly into these horrors happening right now, if we don’t turn away, we can act in some way that can help change things. If they can’t act, we must. They may have no power, but we do, and our power lies in circles of people coming together.

Perhaps, grace is telling us that things can be different, but it will take us coming our of our own complacency to help change things for Ashtiani and others. Perhaps, this is the message within that quivering tenderness, that our power is in coming together to help support us all, as a global village to change things through a revolution fo tenderness.

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And, you?

This is simply my experience with grace and the dark emotions.

I’d love to know how you’ve experienced these dark emotions, and their power and vast potential to transform.

How do you experience Grace? What wisdom does it bring?

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This is the last post in a series of three on tenderness, power and grace. All three posts are part of the Summer of Love Invitational, where the lovely Mahala Mazerov has invited bloggers to write about loving kindness.

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{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }

Tammy Vitale July 28, 2010 at 6:50 am

I experience Grace as that which comes to me *when I open* to it. In the midst of leaving a battering marriage – a relationship I’d been in half my life when I left (27 years ago) – I received the gift of understanding that I could act on my on behalf, and make a space for others to do the same. That led to 20 years of community work that made a significant difference (as significant as any community work – there is always so much more to do!). When my Son was deep into his addictions (10 years)(2 years clean and sober now), Grace came in understanding that I didn’t have to judge him, that I could love him as and where he was just because – one of the hugest lessons of my life. The darkness always has gifts. They are hiding. We just have to be willing to sit with the darkness til our eyes adjust. And we see. It’s the most amazing process!

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Julie July 28, 2010 at 7:12 am

Tammy, it sounds like you know Grace intimately. Yes, you put this so beautifully, “The darkness always has gifts. ” It is amazing. I wonder what it would mean to take the personal to the collective. That’s where this is going, I think, although Grace will surely show me. Thank you for sharing your rich life stories with us.

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wholly jeanne July 28, 2010 at 7:12 am

there is power in expression, be it verbal or visual. there is power in circles, power in seeing, power in grace and voice and revolution and togetherness. there is power in starting and not stopping until there’s no more need. there is power in and through tenderness, in and through grace. there is power in, as tammy said, “sitting in the darkness until our eyes adjust.” there is a new definition of power on the horizon, a power of soft strength, and the world needs this emerging power, this power that requires us to submerge our fingers right into it.

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Julie July 28, 2010 at 7:37 am

Jeanne, so beautifully written. Thank you.

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Renae C July 28, 2010 at 7:22 pm

“When I know that grace is here, too, even in these places of darkness, I know I am not alone”…..

Maybe grace is there BECAUSE we are not alone.

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Julie July 30, 2010 at 5:45 am

Renae, Yes. Absolutely. Even in the darkest moments, we are SO not alone. Thank you for gracing this blog with your wisdom. Blessings.

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Lexi Sundell July 29, 2010 at 6:52 pm

Beautiful!

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Julie July 30, 2010 at 5:40 am

Lexi, I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for visiting.

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Mahala Mazerov August 1, 2010 at 7:56 pm

Julie,

Your painting, your process, your inquisitive and beautiful heart are such an inspiration. Thank you for being such an integral part of the #SOLI journey.

Stumbled!

Big love ~ Mahala

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Amy Miyamoto March 12, 2011 at 7:31 am

Julie,
Over the last few years I have been taking conscious steps to tune into and listen more carefully/willingly to the gentle whispers and synchronicities that my intuitive voice shares. They are like little cosmic bread crumbs to follow along my divine path. The events that led me to read this post of yours this morning are just more evidence that my intuitive voice loves to guide me through magnetizing just the right resources in front of me at the right time. Even though you wrote this many months ago – this is the week I had clarity around the deep ideas and emotions that have been held within me for decades that are aching to be creatively expressed. I have tried many times to sit down and express them through writing – yet as a former English teacher there is something about the written modality (for me at this point) that has not felt right for this initial expression of such deep energy and emotion. And wouldn’t you know this is the week I opened myself up to exploring the longing I have always felt to dive more fully into expressive arts like paining and mixed media collage. And of course this is the week I discovered both soul collage and intuitive painting classes in my area and your post on your experiences with similar modalities of creative expression. These events support me in further trusting the unique ways in which my intuition speaks to me.
I look forward to reading through more of your posts…my guess is that they will be filled with both deep wisdom I am meant to hear as well as a few divine bread crumbs I am meant to follow.
;)
Amy

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Julie March 12, 2011 at 7:57 am

Dear Amy,
I’m so glad you found this post, knowing you were guided here.
How wonderful you are diving into these modalities of expression.
I love process painting. It’s an incredibly rich place to birth oneself.
Thank you for your kind words and your incredible generosity.
Love,
Julie

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Amy Miyamoto March 12, 2011 at 8:14 am

And wouldn’t you know it..this morning just before I found this post – my daughter came into my office and asked if we could finger paint today…she has never asked to specifically finger paint “with quivering fingers” before…

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Julie March 12, 2011 at 8:19 am

Amy,
Really? She asked to do that? Wow. Something is so alive, here. So present and ready…
Let me know how the finger painting goes!
Love,
Julie

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Pauline Esson December 27, 2011 at 3:07 am

Julie,
I’m so glad to have found my way to you here, via your tweet of Lisa Baldwin’s post (who I also adore).
As I read your words, I feel a deep inner settling down….a peace inside
A sense of, ….you can rest here, it’s a sanctuary, a rich and nourishing one, you’re safe here and can gather strength for the way ahead
Thank you so much

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