Moonlight on my Pillow

Last night, the first night of the new year, I lay in bed and watched the heavens lit up with moonlight from a recently full magnificent moon. I opened my window and whispered “Goodnight everybody!” to the birds and creatures that have become my almost sole companions during this almost full year of pandemicly required isolation.
I fluffed my pillow and looked at it. Shadows cast from the waning moon through fluttering leaves flickered across my pillow. I almost cried. Gratitude.
This pillow, this bed, varying versions of these shadows, have been mine for almost four years now. 
Four years ago I meandered into the Mystic Journey Bookstore on Abbot Kinney, and a Buddhist monk slipped his arm through mine and said “Come.” I did. I went with him into a quiet cubicle in the rear of the store. He told me that I would be contacted by someone who would offer me something. He said that my immediate response would be to decline the offer because I was not in a financial position to accept. He said that I must accept. I must trust. I must say ‘Yes.’. He said that from this place my healing and my dreams would happen.
A few days later this is exactly what happened.
Prior to this I had been without a home for eight years. My heart and soul were crying out for relief and a peaceful resting place to call home. I was well aware that the gypsy journey was one that I had been called to experience, to the nth degree. Someone needed to do this in order to shine a light, as a conduit between the haves and have nots, on what ‘being homeless’ in all of its obvious and subtle ways, was about. These two worlds needed to be brought together. But now I was exhausted and not only my soul endurance, but my body was reeling. 
During these years I had visualized daily, a beautiful small space with sunlight and breezes overlooking the ocean. A place where I could write and where grand children could play and feel welcome,  and where my golden retriever could lie curled up at my feet.
And the offer came.
The monk was right. My initial response was to say that I could not do this right now, but I listened to my heart and knew that this was to be.
I now live, and have for almost four years, in a small sunlit space with breezes blowing through overlooking the ocean on a quiet road. And in addition to what I had visualized, God tossed in an overly abundant lemon tree, a fig tree that bears the most luscious figs on earth, and a family of beautiful supportive humans who work with and around the re-launch of myself in the practical world.
I am healed. I am manifesting my dreams. I live in an eternally present state of gratitude for the moment and compassion for those that will be served by all that has been.
Thank you flickering shadows and moonlight on my pillow, for reminding me every night. And thank you for this brand new year.