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Grace happened to me with a shock and rebounds like the overflowing answer to an improbable wish or prayer. And my life has reset itself for the better by Grace! I am reluctant to tell the story, but I must, to fulfil all graciousness. I consider the eleven-letter word sapiosexual a lofty prop of self-flattery coined to exclude, not bridge nor bond. A highflying word for conceited people attracted to accomplished partners and used to promote their love’s brains over incomes or social status. Wasting time on the motives for using such a word, my speculations arrived. Does the word mask a person’s desire to share in a darling’s success or are jingles of it a means to idolise intelligence when nothing else of worth exists to show? Rebuttals are welcome. However, the eleven-letter word offends my commitment to modesty and bears false witness against my many records of first-hand experiences. Besides, how does intelligence, by itself, seduce anybody, anyway? I doubt writing Schrodinger’s complete equation on napkins from memory as a party trick is sexy. Reciting John Milton’s Paradise Lost backwards without error isn’t either. Intelligence is neither visible nor tangible by itself. Only its rewarding outputs we experience in life are open to appreciation, not love. So why did Grace happen to me? Continue reading →