| Predawn. Coffee scent wafts beneath my nose. Candlelight flame
illuminates
morning darkness. In my den
snuggled on my couch,
soft cushions invite me
to sink into meditation. A prayer shawl,
the one my wife knitted,
surrounds my shoulders
with love. Deep breaths.
Eyes closed.
I wait for God. The words, “May I be still,”
center my thoughts.
My mind softens,
drifts into my heart. A smile opens my lips.
Warmth surrounds my heart
drawing my focus inward. Chest rises and falls.
Hands open on my lap,
I sit longing for the Creator’s touch. This is my morning refuge.
The place I remember who I Am.
The place I sit and awaken each day
waiting for the Creator’s arrival. Sometimes,
the Divine
reveals itself
as energy
flowing upward
from heart to head. There in this infinite space,
the place between my eyebrows,
Spirit invites me
to a deeper realm. Some call our foreheads
the seat of wisdom.
I only know it as a familiar doorway
through which God and I enter
and enjoy morning chats. In this space,
I often hear God’s whisper.
I trust without understanding,
the Creator is here and now. Spirit’s Voice of Love
seeks to guide me
with Holy Whispers. But this morning, my mind meanders.
Ego taunts, “This is useless.”
Restlessness overtakes my body.
A scratch pulls thoughts away. I worry if I can endure
an upcoming ten-day
meditation retreat. How will I sit for an hour,
then two,
then three,
when today’s meditation feels
so scattered, so empty? “Where are you, God?”
I ask, waiting for the One
I love but cannot touch. Silence and stillness reply.
I sit and wait
some more. Warmth suddenly envelopes me.
My heart overflows
with joy. God whispers, “I am here,
I am always here with you.
I’m waiting for you to be still.” —brian j plachta
brianplachta.com | 
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