What to remember when waking

I found this poem on Orly Avineri Blog and it it is just beautiful.
What is in my heart this week is fear of moving, of not moving, of waking, of doing, of not doing. Overwhelming at times sadness and the terrible ache of missing that never goes away. My phantom limb.
Having to make some future plans as our system runs on deadlines and wondering where my head will be when I am supposed to start those things.
I have started some gardening which is keeps me interested in going outside.
I am pleased with a course I am doing on-line called soul restoration. It is with Brave Girls Club and is good. Lots to do and complete and fun. I advocate the use of lots of glitter...its soul food.
I have noticed that people are more casual now with the use of Garys name and are talking about him  to me as if  I too am casual. I read in one of the grief books that 3 months is about the time other people will recover and will expect you to do the same. I have noticed some changes in how people expect me to be. It is still very immediate for me. I cannot imagine myself past where it wont be. It hurts all the time.


Poem David Whyte Link to Orlys Blog

What to Remember When Waking
by David Whyte • 1999 Many Rivers Press Click

In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,
coming back to this life from the other
more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world
where everything began,
there is a small opening into the new day
which closes the moment you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough
for the vitality hidden in your sleep.

To be human is to become visible
while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.
To remember the other world in this world
is to live in your true inheritance.

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
you were invited from another and greater night
than the one from which you have just emerged.

Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window
toward the mountain presence of everything that can be
what urgency calls you to your one love?
What shape waits in the seed of you
to grow and spread its branches
against a future sky?

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?
In the trees beyond the house?
In the life you can imagine for yourself?
In the open and lovely white page on the waiting desk?