My Chase After Grace

I once performed a dance routine to "The Pink Panther” in a gym show. My sister and I had matching pink leotards and tails sewn onto the back of our shorts. Our hair was pulled into two tiny buns on the tops of our heads, with pink ears bobby-pinned in front of each.

Anyone could have identified the real dancer of the two from a mile away.

My sister was the ballerina—long and lean—I was the gymnast, short and solid. She twirled her way through the number—I tackled it.

I have always been more about speed and power than grace. I am the one with stronger legs, thicker muscles, and fiercer determination. I wrestle pretty much everything I do to the ground.

Moving fast means I get more done. I like to cram a lot of loveliness into my days. A friend once told me I suffer from extreme busy-ness. But I consider it jam-packing everything I love into every minute, which can make for a satisfying life.

Real panthers reportedly have over 500 voluntary muscles that they can use at will. It’s just a matter of deciding which of a variety of things they want to do with them. David Andrews advises in his book Animal Speak that “those with a panther totem must learn to pace their work, allowing time to rest and play.”

I have always assumed I have to move at lightning speed. I have a big job that I love, hobbies I love, and family and friends who I love. To squeeze all that in 24 hours a day is not that easy, even if you are a pink panther.

But sometimes, I move fast so I don’t have to think. Moving at a blitzing pace makes me feel safe, protected. I don’t have to look too closely at any one thing. No one can catch up. No one can catch me.

I was having dinner with a friend once, and as we got to the door to go outside, he grumbled, “You always get to the doors before I do!”

I stopped and looked back at him, surprised.

“I try to get to the doors,” he said, “but then I realize, ‘Ahh! She got there first again!’”

I laughed. Yep, I don’t wait for others to open doors for me.

But it’s not possible to keep up this kind of pace forever. It catches up with you eventually. And introspection and being in the quiet, the now, and moving at a gentler pace has much to reveal.

Not being able to travel for work means that I have more space in my day—time to read, think, write, breathe, and to be. More space to twirl my tail.

My mother—who sewed our pink panther costumes of course—was the picture of grace and elegance. Whenever she was photographed, she stood in fifth position (she was a dancer too), one foot perpendicular to the other, shoulders back, head held at just the right angle. She moved deliberately, thoughtfully, in everything she did.

I was doing laundry one time a few years after she died, and trying to open the door and enter the room at the same time. I bumped the basket against the doorjamb and clocked myself in the jaw. Suddenly, I felt my mother there. I could sense her laughing, in a loving, teasing way.

“I know, I know,” I said. “You’re thinking, ‘Where did this girl come from?’”. I imagined her shaking her head at me. That was just what she was thinking.

But as I opened the dryer door that day, I heard her soft answer.

“Your father,” she said, and we both laughed.

While no one has ever used the word grace to describe me—or ballerina—someone did say recently that I have gravitas. I didn’t know what it meant, so I had to look it up.

An ancient Roman virtue denoting seriousness. A sense of responsibility and commitment to a task. Yes, I have my father to thank for that. That’s my Achiever side, trying to get &*!@* done before the day is over.

Aiming to get all of life done before time runs out on this little pink panther.