Yesterday morning was remarkable to me because of how it went:
As usual, I surfaced slowly. When I caught that I was awake, I went on track about recalling what I could of my night time dreams. Somehow, doing this gives me ecstasy. I can’t tell why. Maybe it’s the ecstasy of doing due diligence, receiving the messages my psyche has delivered. Sort of like going to get the mail when you know someone has sent something special just for you.
This I do, and have done regularly for years. I rarely miss it, but for the occasional early morning alarm-waking in order to make it to a one-off activity to which I am deeply committed.
What was different yesterday morning from months of mornings previous, was that from dream-recall, I began to tap in to something that I intensely want to exist. Feeling the joy of yet-unseen new possibilities, I held for a few beats. The possibility of a next step arose, one that could be done NOW. It seemed to take no effort at all to make the moves to get up from my bed and take that step.
Thus began my yesterday: with aliveness, enthusiasm, and creation happening.
Somewhere during the unfolding occurrence, it hit me that this was how it had been for me when I first started to diligently study and use the distinctions, tools, maps and processes of Possibility Management. I had rolled this way, morning after morning, expanding out of what had been limiting me in my life. I felt intense joy to have this experience back.
When I woke today, and did not have that same kind of experience. After my dream recall, I was disappointed, and the difference caught my attention, and I went in to noticing. To get the information from the feelings mixed up in the state of disappointment, I put my attention on my heart. What feelings were there? Anger. Resentment. I had, without realizing, expected another morning of creative action.
I used my anger to consciously rebel. I reached for my laptop, and signed into Netflix. I couldn’t quite tell if my Gremlin was at the wheel, but discerned that it would cost me 1.5 hours to watch a movie. If it was my Gremlin, he would be satiated by the time the drama was over, and I could start my day over.
I checked out 3 or 4 teasers, and felt angry that so many were about romance, love, about being torn between people to be in romance with. FUCK YOU, modern culture fairy tale plots, sucking hopeless romantics like me into watching and coming away feeling inadequate! MUST BE NICE TO HAVE A CHOICE AT ALL.
The low drama feast had begun.
The next title to catch my eye had the word “Accidental” in it. The acting in the teaser was overdone, the plot seemed ridiculous: a good fit for further Gremlin feeding. I clicked play and put my experiment to work, the one I have been doing lately while I read, of watching myself while I take in the story.
As I watched, I noticed myself catching the unrealism of various script, camera and action elements. I noticed tricks and manufactured twists. I noticed myself become pulled into pining for the dumb luck of the protagonist, as manufactured as it was, angry that “such things don’t happen to me.” Yum, yum, victim story deluxe.
It was a cute, unreal story, where every character turns out to be so loving that the whole bunch find ways to each overcome their previous failings and misunderstandings to create an ideal set up. With less than a minute to go, I was satiated. Thank you Hollywood for another Gremlin feast.
Then, the last scene. I was blindsided.
The rough and real, adorably unpredictable man, now now happily married to his formerly tight and narrow minded true love, comes to see her. But not for her. She laughs and stands to pose for him. Her belly is almost ripe in pregnancy with their child. She is beaming, basking, alive in the space of their love, pregnant with the creative results of their partnership.
I did not have this experience of motherhood. Four children, unplanned by me, by three fathers, neither us consciously, step by step, chose to conceive. I had always longed for the kind of story depicted in this movie. Over and over I have had the pain of missing it. Again and agin this pain has arisen, unexpressed.
In bed with my laptop this morning, even caught unaware, I could see, feel and hold space for the pain. Grief and longing erupted from within me for several minutes, I, observing.
Suddenly, the past and resulting present all occurred as perfect.
In my energetic field, decades of past anger and sadness exist in me as if in line to fuel future creation. With or without a partner, I have, right here and now, wherever I go, access to a storehouse of energy and information to create what I want, thanks to having missed out on all I was born and have lived wanting.
I cannot tell if I turned off the eruption or if it came to completion for the time being. Either way, I was aware I was choosing, as distinct from sliding into avoiding, or from slipping an ace up my sleeve so I can drum up some pity later.
The enthusiasm I had been missing earlier was suddenly filling me. The movements to put my laptop aside and get out of bed occurred without effort.
With myself, and in myself I felt senses and impulses, and followed them, making the moves it took to go to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to prepare a morning drink. Something caught my eye and I followed the pull and chose to wipe down a windowsill.
As I lifted the ready cup to my lips, my eyes made contact with the digital clock in the kitchen: 11:11.
In that moment, a sense of being in my life, in perfect alignment, by having followed perfectly imperfect steps, existed. For several beats, no thoughts existed.
Remembering now, the sense of it was that what is, is for me. Even when I am not feeling how I would prefer to feel, in the state I would most prefer to be in, I can be so vulnerably with that, here, now, open… with what is unfolding.
In the unfolding, I can be with the unfolding. What an adventure.
There can be nothing wrong.