Upon Gazing Out a Train Window

My eyes
my whole Being
a live camera
with no film
to record or to remember
the thousands of trees
the vast dirt fields
the stubble
the long-ago-fallen trees.
Sunlight sprinkles itself
over the surfaces of
winding waterways.

No film to show
only my Body
recording
the land
the furrows of
the fields the gray
clouds
The platinum
glow of our sun.

My eyes
approve.
My Body
has it.

Elizabeth Morana

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It’s For This

These are the skis
that will take me
—not down
—not up
but out
into that Greater Place
that-holds-us-all-
in-Its-loving-embrace

 

I want to know.
To experience
It
directly.
Not just to know about
It.

To sit in the
silent hum of my being
To sit in the
silent hum of that
Transcendent Being
The One I choose to call
God
Father

That’s what’s needed
that’s what’s important
to me

I don’t want to settle for less
for writing a beautiful piece
for creating an amazing painting
or sculpture
or for giving something needed to another
All those are Good
But not enough—for me

Continue reading “It’s For This”

The Palm Reader

Photo Credit: Elizabeth Morana

One night, I read something* about a prisoner during the holocaust who was in line with a group of men waiting to be taken to their death.  In the midst of this horror, one of the men jumped out of line, offering to read the palms of other prisoners, exuberantly telling them of their future wives, their future children, of what seemed to be their extinguished possibilities.  More and more of the prisoners asked to have their palms read.  The mood changed, for both prisoners and guards—and against all odds, the unexpected happened:  the guards loaded the prisoners back on the truck and drove away with them, taking them back to their barracks. 

I wondered about what enabled that solitary palm-reader to act.  The next morning as I awoke, a sentence came to me, and then more:

Please Let me also look at their palms and see their infinite possibilities!
And seeing them,
they glimpse themselves
As they really are!

Let us not be hypnotized
by modern day brutes
Let us look past all their dark thoughts
Let us turn again and again
beyond those dark clouds
to what is beyond their sight

Let us see our true pure being
and all our possibilities for Joy
for Love

Pull back our curtain of fear and disconnection
Open our ears to the truth of our being
Open our eyes to That Light
Me-here-Now
Not what they see
they do not define me!

Open my awareness
to
What. I. Am

*https://tinyurl.com/yder25lt

Elizabeth Morana

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Something Good is Happening to Me

As a reader and a contributor to this blog, I’m very touched to hear this audio from Kevin, “Something is Happening That is Good For Me.”

And it turns out that he’s talking about his response to recent contributions and comments on this cyber-gathering place.  It’s as though I’m hearing it for the first time—that we are “…participating in something not of our own making…” in these recent writings.

He reminds us that we’re participating—we’re not passive carriers for inspired ideas—instead we‘re active participants in what comes through each of us; something that is uniquely helpful to the writer, and uniquely helpful—in yet another way—to the reader.

And he adds something else that I feel is new:  that we are experiencing “…a felt-sense, person-to-person.”  And he says “YES” to that, adding, “.that’s why I’m here in this moment, to say YES.”

Lucky us—to have the opportunity to sense into this new-knowing.

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Awakening

Photo by Bankim Desai on Unsplash

Elizabeth Morana, Dec. 9, 2019

I often awaken in the middle of the night and find myself reflecting; many seemingly disparate thoughts and ideas come. And then a sentence comes, loud and clear, and I know from past experience, if I don’t write this down, it will disappear.

This morning, one such sentence came: We are being awakened into His Love. It didn’t bring any explanation with it. I wrote it and waited to see if there was more. There wasn’t. So, I lay back down and turned the light off.

Within a minute, more came, and with the words came an image—a butterfly in the process of opening the pod it had found itself in—it’s chrysalis. I could sense it was weak and somewhat confused—as though it were awakening from a long sleep.

I sat up again, turned on the light, and continued writing. I realized as I wrote, that it was very much about me. And about more than me.

Recently, I’ve been telling people: I‘m changed! After much Wholebody focusing and Heartfelt Conversation, after much prayer, after much meditation, I made it clear to all the Powers That Be: I’m willing to be changed, to let go of old dramas and the possibility of reliving them, to face the unknown of the Present Moment.—as best I can.

Here’s what came to me at 5am this morning when I turned the light back on:

When she emerged from the Chrysalis, she was not the kind of butterfly she’d expected to be.

In fact, it was all different than she’d imagined. She wasn’t sure what to make of this.

She’d expected to be fully functional— and she stood at this new threshold, hesitant. The ground felt different. The air. She was bewildered. 

She scanned the landscape. Butterflies of all shapes and sizes—and other beings—slowly appeared. 

How do you talk to these other creatures, she wondered.  What will come out when I begin to speak? 

Relax, something whispered. No hurry

She sank into the moment. The ground beneath her softened. A sigh welled up. Even the air cradled her. 

And she knew:  I am here. That is enough. Nothing needs to happen.

To read or leave a comment please click on the word Comments next to or under the photo.

An Early Morning Awakening and Sitting-With

“This is just the time she left her body. Four years ago this moment.
I waited and watched.”

By Elizabeth Morana

I awoke suddenly and looked at the clock. It was 6:10am.
I realized:
This is just the time she left her body. Four years ago this moment.
I waited and watched.

First, this came:
“Melt into the Arms of God”
I wanted to.
I got only a tiny hint
of It.

Then, this came:
“I make space for Your Glory”

Much later, after restlessness–and then grief, words came:

It’s like striking a match when I let the grief come. Before I allowed it to be felt, it was like hardened material on a little stick. I struck the match against the scratchy surface and the deep sadness ignited into a brief, intense flame. Then, suddenly, my body stretches, toes wiggle, back muscles awaken and warm themselves through stretching. That’s the flame. It flows through me. Then all is still and there’s a glowing light in me.

 From stuckness,
to ignition,
 to flaring grief,
to transforming into
something awakening,
richly Alive,
and finally
to tranquil clarity. 

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Painting by Elizabeth Morana

Trouble Resting

By Elizabeth Morana

I’m afraid of this day
and the demands therein
so I lie awake
electricity a low hum
under me
running through my cells
Two hours before
awakening time

I resist this moment
and keep resisting
Can I let myself Be Here?
In this unwanted moment?

No.
I am caught up with the fear
that I won’t be able to be-in
some future moment of
this coming day

I cannot be-here at all

Oh, how I long to
Be here now.

And having really
Yearned that
My body stretches
relaxes
And I lie down
If not to rest
At least
To be here.

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Heartfelt Conversation

A topic of shared interest”

…Start there.”

We smile
at one another
in silence
and then

we knit
our thoughts together
each maneuvering
one knitting needle

we watch
in wonder
as something tells itself
through our shared
heart-spoken-thoughts

We listen
to our final silence
It breathes us out
into our next moment

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