Always fully enough; always unfolding into more

Some scattered thoughts on living in a state of grace

My friend Christian Scholtes, when commenting on the Michelangelo and David metaphor said this: It may well be that David from yesterday, from today, and from tomorrow, are three fairly different statues. I loved that comment.

He’s right of course, and his comment led me to reflect that, throughout my life I have discovered experientially that today’s me can simultaneously be existing in its fullest form and also unfolding into what will become its fullest form. And that for me, just like for the pictured rosebuds, this can always be a state of grace in which I live.

Not waiting to ‘develop’. Not seeking to be somehow ‘better’. Not nitpicking at myself and fearing the day when my personal or professional fraud might be exposed. Not hankering to be more ‘evolved’. None of that,

And yet aware that tomorrow’s me might be a fairly different statue. And feeling complete in both realities.

Always fully enough, always unfolding into more

This week I’ve been reflecting on one particular aspect of the enso - the beauty of imperfection.

The gap in the circle above is a pretty big one but when I found this image it touched something deep in me and connected me to grace.

Said in various contexts to be a symbol of enlightenment, of elegance and strength, of emptiness and infinity, of creation and impermanence, of non-duality and the interconnectedness of all things, the enso is drawn with a single brush stroke quickly and without hesitation. In this way it is an expression of the moment; of living right here, right now, and of embodying one’s actions with all of one’s being.

I’ve seen many ensos over the years, and the gap is never exactly the same size. And yet to me there always appears to be such grace flowing from the simple image. Imperfection comes in many guises.

And every enso reminds me that I am enough.

And that I will always be enough.

For me this belief sits at the heart of my coaching stance.

A friend of mine had a ‘big’ birthday last week and his wife curated a memory book made up from collected stories from old friends. In putting together what I wanted to say I dug into John O’Donohue’s Beannacht - his beautiful blessing for his mother.

It’s stuck with me since as an open doorway into an existential experience of grace.

Beannacht (Blessing) | John O’Donohue

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets into you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green
and azure blue,
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

In friendship

Ian