Plans Change

Good morning…

Awake in the mid of night, I return to a simple poem to feather my inner nest.

******

Let Awake Be Awake by Rosemerry Wahtola Tommer

Oh to wake in the middle of the night
and not wish to be asleep. To not wish
for anything but what is, which is,
in this moment, being awake.
To let the mind wander
because that is what the mind is doing.
To let the heart clench around its losses
because that is what a heart does.
Being awake in the middle
of the night is teaching me
to be so gentle with myself, to be
with what is and do nothing about it.
To not turn on the light. To let the dark
be dark. To let what is awake be awake.
To let what aches ache. To feel the deep peace
of not trying to do anything. To meet
the moment as it is, as inevitable as dawn,
as loyal, as changing as wind.

******

Waking up, my thoughts unexpectedly bend toward a few friends traveling into town to share dinner on Thursday night. From New Hampshire. From Athens, Georgia. From my home here in Vinings. We were to nestle into the house of our friend on the west side of Atlanta.

“Hello my beloved friends,” a text came in around noon yesterday. “Well, as it happens we are in the middle of another huge nor’easter pounding snow down from the sky. I’ve been notified that my flight will likely be canceled.” She also alerted us that the mother of our other friend has gone into intermediate ICU, grabbing her full attention, erasing her travel plans.

I awake in the mid of night, not wanting to sleep off the concerns of my soul friends. Might the nightshift of prayer simply mean to stay awake with it all? Wounding weather. Canceled flights. Changing plans. Health concerns of loved ones. Our full attention grabbed. Erased, erased is what we expected. Gone, gone is the face to face we had hoped for.

My mind wanders. My heart clenches around its losses. The mid of night teaches me to be so gentle with myself, so gentle with all others. I am learning to be with what is, to do nothing about it. Not turn on the light and whisk disappointment away. To let dark be dark. To let loss be loss. To let what is awake be awake. Sadness. Missing. Compassion. To rest in the nest of grace. In touch. In solidarity. Awake here and mysteriously connecting there, and there, and there.

What is awake is awake. What aches clearly aches. I feel the deep peace of not trying to do anything. I meet this moment as it is, inevitably loyal as dawn, as I fall into trust with the changing Wind.

…Sue…