This quiet Thanksgiving morning in the US, I’m writing you from Cannon Beach, Oregon where the tide is way out at the moment, and the day is just getting light.
I had a terrible night’s sleep.
I stared out the slightly cracked window blinds for hours seeing the dark inky pitch black color beyond. I checked my phone’s clock at 1:30 am and looked at incoming emails for a moment, then closed my eyes and tried again.
This is so rare for me, so that’s good news (says the mind)….but even one night can be frustrating or somehow sad.
I wanted to have a good, energetic day with my two young adult kids and my husband for the holiday.
Now, that’s not going to happen.
Ah ha.
Did you catch that? I’m anticipating the day already, before it’s even occurred.
In case you find yourself in some mental activity at night when everyone else is sleeping, or awake for no apparent reason….let’s do The Work.
You can do this, actually, on anything you’re labeling as horrible that is happening.
It’s horrible if you don’t sleep.
Is that true?
No.
This is really amazing in itself to find. I don’t feel bad at all right now after sunrise, I’m writing, I’m thinking of going for a nice jog on the beach soon.
It doesn’t really matter in this moment what’s happening this afternoon, later on. If I’m awake staring out the window, I don’t have to label it “horrible”.
What happens when you think lack of sleep (or anything) IS horrible though?
I start analyzing why it’s happening.
Maybe I’m feeling very nostalgic about the death of my children’s father and all the memories here that happened with him in the past (we had our honeymoon here, before the kids existed).
Maybe I’m sad about the brief conflict between son and daughter at the dinner table yesterday–something I don’t see often.
Maybe it’s awareness that I have lots to do, I’ve been traveling a ton, and I’m feeling “behind” on some administrative tasks.
Maybe it was feeling dehydrated physically (I got up and drank two big cups of water during my bout of wide- awakeness in the wee hours).
Or all of the above.
Who knows…..but when I believe being awake is “horrible” or will make things “horrible” later, I’m upset in the very moment in the night.
So who would I be without the belief?
Staring and relaxed, noticing. Fascinated. Noting all these thoughts swirling, and old memories and images that are surprising.
Noticing hopes and expectations for this time away–and dropping them.
Without the thoughts of something being “horrible” I’m aware I’m getting wonderful meditation time. I thought this in the night as I did The Work in my head. I felt the bed, my back against the mattress, the air in the room.
Turning the thought around: My thinking about not sleeping is horrible.
I’m in the future, in an afternoon that doesn’t yet exist. I’m out of the quiet, middle-of-the-night wonder of meditation. I’m not trusting what is at all. I’m making it dramatically “horrible” like it’s a big tragedy, and something’s wrong.
Turning it around again: It’s wonderful if you don’t sleep.
Can I find anything interesting about not sleeping, even if you can’t exactly find it’s wonderful (yet)?
Yes, I explored feelings in energy and the body. I massaged my forearms. I listened to some of the voices I was hearing in my mind, and reviewed memories quietly, peacefully.
Naps are a thing. I can always do this later if it appears as a sweet option.
I’m good at speaking about my feelings, once I turn inward and contemplate them. I’m very interested, even feel wonderful, about Not Avoiding or Escaping. I found some compassion for myself and all the images from the past and this place.
And it is Wonder-Full to be awake in the wee hours. That’s a big turnaround, right?
I can find it. So quiet, so soft, so empty. Two o’clock in the morning is so still. Monks do this on purpose all over the world for centuries to connect to God, Universe, Reality, Self without needing to complete basic tasks or any activities.
I can feel the wonder of being up. The wonder of noticing a sky going from pitch black, to pale blue, to lighter pale blue and grey.
What a mysterious, fascinating, curious place, this earth and this life–my own body, these eyes seeing, this mind thinking, these other bodies in my presence who are “related” to me and so precious:
Children, husband, the people I’ve never met outside walking over to the beach, the buildings, the white seagull, the hum of the fridge–apparently all of this that came out of nothing into something for reasons unknown.
No sleep required for happiness.
Nothing missing. Nothing.
Much love,
Grace
P.S. Thank you.
So interesting to read your reflections on not sleeping. I have found just lying in bed watching my thoughts and perhaps listening to a mediation tape from Tara Brach or some meditative song soothes. I’ve given up worrying about the next day (pretty much). It’s the worry about the effects of not sleeping that are the most disturbing, as you suggest. Just letting the night be what it is and even relishing in the observation of the experience of not sleeping. And, funnily enough, I’m nearly always refreshed in the morning. As you so beautifully observed, it’s the war with not sleeping that takes it out of you.
???❤