Yesterday I received, not for the first time, a life-giving lesson in the powerful and ever-present reality of the quality of Grace. How it lives within each of us. How each of us has the power to use it gently, kindly, wisely, consciously, as part of our own way of being, through our own choice and our own free will. I learned again the power that our free will and choice have to connect us to complete strangers and to transform a moment, a day, and maybe even a life…just by spontaneously and simply allowing ourselves to be who we are. No striving, no breast-beating, no asidious studying or arduous introspection, no life-long suffering, or suppression of our own selves required. Just a simple opening and sharing of who we are with others, like a natural, uniquely fragile but always beautiful flower.
I was spending time in the large, local shopping mall of the small Spanish city, that is currently my home. It’s not my favourite location but it’s a great place to pick up a number of things in a short space of time and the walk there is always different and interesting. Yesterday, I passed the bustling, open market, which springs up here twice a week and fills several streets along the riverbank with all kinds of knicknacks and homegrown produce, fresh and cooked. I followed part of the official route of the Camino de Santiago, with its small, steady, constant stream of pilgrims, passing through the city on their way to journey’s end; and I crossed in front of the city’s castle, built by the medieval Templar Knights, warrior monks who both protected pilgrims and waged ‘Holy Wars’ during some of the darker periods of Christian understanding of, and belief in, God.
Although I knew I would arrive at the mall during the lunchtime period, I’d already decided not to eat there, but rather, to pick up a pack of sushi from the its gigantic supermarket, and then to find a park bench near the centre’s rose garden (the mall’s name means rosebush in Spanish), to soak up the sunshine and to watch the locals passing by: the couples; the families; the groups of children; and the older friends, all enjoying their individual and group Saturdays, in their individual and group ways.
But, like many of my best-laid plans, it was scuppered when…for all its giganticness… I discovered that the supermarket didn’t have any sushi that day, and that all their other ‘take-out’ food seemed to be saying quite clearly and wordlessly to me (in calorie-laden and unhealthy ways) “Don’t eat me!”
So I wandered up to the top floor, where the large foodhall is located, and took a turn around the multitude of outlets offering their wears. The noise of cheerful Spanish banter bounced off the glass ceiling and the atmosphere was busy but pleasant, as friends and families swapped animated stories and strong opinions across tables strewn with takeaway food and its assorted debris.
I joined a few queues, waiting to enter restaurants offering ‘full-meal-deals-of-the-day’, but kept being nudged on again by that quiet but familiar feeling, deep inside…No…not here. And eventually, I found myself where I’d started…at the first, small outlet on the corner, offering ‘Tapas’ and ‘Platos combinados’. So I stopped to read their displayed menu in more detail and, when I looked up, the young Spanish waitress who’d appeared at my side smiled and simply said “Decided?”. “Yes“.
I gave her my order as we moved towards the serving counter, then she pointed to a clean, small table in front of it and said “This one’s for you”. I hesitated before sitting down, because it was right next to the throng of people entering the foodhall (not quite the peaceful rose garden lunch I’d had in mind) and I could see another free table, a little further away, with a great view over the floors below and shielded from passing shoppers by a large, lush, green, potted plant.
Checking with the waitress that it was OK with her if I sat further away, she said “Yes, that’s fine, but just wait a minute, and you can take your drink with you” and so, drink in hand, I walked over to my new ‘ideal location’. The perfect spot…I’d thought…until I realised that it only had four chairs…and no table.
Resigned to the inevitable, I walked back to the clean, small table by the thoroughfare, just as a couple left a quieter table next to it, so I quickly moved to clear their cups and plates and, in my haste, knocked my own drink over, which crashed noisily to the floor. As shards of glass and fizzy drink shot everywhere, I looked up and saw the busy waitress quickly coming towards me. “I’m so sorry…” I said, aware of the additional work I’d just created by being so picky about where I sat.
She beamed back a beautiful smile and said “It’s OK“. And then “Really…it’s OK. It’s just a glass. It doesn’t matter” and giving a very Spanish quick-flick-of-the-hand gesture, “These things don’t matter, they really don’t“. And in that moment, with the flick of her hand, she cast away all the energy of public embarrassment and shame that had rushed into me with the crash of my glass. And then she did something Grace-filled and quite extraordinary. She placed her hands on my shoulders, turned me towards her, looked me directly in the eye, and said “They really don’t matter, do they?” and, when I said “No“, she put her arms around me, pulled me towards her, and gave me a heartfelt hug. “That’s right!” she said and then, back in waitress mode, whipped out a cloth, quickly wiped down another vacant table away from the thoroughfare, and said “Here, take this one. It was waiting for you“.
When I asked if I could help to clear up the mess she just smiled and said “No, no, it’s fine” and with another smile, “someone’s already on their way“.
“To feel the intimacy of brothers is a marvelous thing in life. To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life. But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching over our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses – that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.”
Pablo Neruda (Childhood and Poetry)
There are those amongst us who seem more able to find joy and purpose and meaning and reward in the smallest of tasks. They find sunshine and warmth and radiance in the very act of what they do, they unite it with their own radiance within, and then they share it with others, unthinkingly, naturally, simply and joyfully. Daily gravity doesn’t drag them down or, when it does, they reach within themselves to overcome it and bounce back up again, just like the ever-rising daily sun. They show us what’s possible. They show us the power of the smallest, natural, heartfelt gesture. They shine the light that is their very way of being and, in shining it, they hold a mirror up to others, to each of us, inviting us to remember…the power of that inner light… which quietly burns inside us, each and everyone.
Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who make the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories, and into the windows of, even, the miserable and crotchety– best preacher that ever was, dear star, that just happens to be where you are in the universe to keep us from ever-darkness, to ease us with warm touching, to hold us in the great hands of light– good morning, good morning, good morning. Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness. (Why I Wake Early - Mary Oliver)
La Casa de Paz 