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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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.

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Something is Happening That is Good For 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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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

Wisdom from an Unlikely Place

How lucky am I
to be able to turn
to see these gnarled trees
through this train window
stopped
waiting
for some unseen obstruction
ahead

Sunlight illuminates
my friends, the trees
their trunks, their limbs.
Orange-khaki-colored brush
crouches in front of them
Unashamed of their winter attire
Take me as I am
they signal in their own
private language
I have no need for adornments.
I am here.
That is enough.

Elizabeth Morana

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My Background Feeling: unprepared for life

Video Credit: Horseshoe Falls by Elizabeth Morana

Water sometimes has to go
over a ledge and
drop
without knowing
what comes next

you panic
there is nothing to
hold onto
no email with information
you needed
to orient you

The drops of water
too are disoriented
they rely
without forethought
on gravity

They don’t know
which way is up
either

Oh, Angels!
Teach me to be like
Water

Elizabeth Morana

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What Water Wants

I  caught myself wondering
what it is like
being water.
Not what it would be like.

And then I realized
I was explaining—
or something was,
and has been for a while—
explaining
what it is like being water.

Someone invisible
has been coaching me.
I’ve been a good student
listening so carefully because
I need to know.
Something at my core
yearns for this.

Water wants me to know
what it is
and
that I am THAT too.

Look, it says
like a swimming coach
This is water.
This is what it is like
to be water.

Continue reading What Water Wants

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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