For the last 10 or so years, I go through periods of surviving many sleepless nights in a row. To be accurate, I sleep like a cozy little baby for the first two hours after my head hits the pillow. The next four or five hours, however, are hit and miss. Usually miss. Despite zombie-walking my way through the daylight hours and being every so slightly irritable (ha), I do find staring at the ceiling for prolonged periods during the night oddly satisfying. I get my greatest thinking done during those stretches. I've plotted great projects and escapades, as well. I only wish I'd carried out even a tenth of them. Still, the process of even dreaming them up has always been aces.
This week I've been contemplating on a nightly basis all the books I'd wish I had written by now. You should know that if I had actually put pen to paper, they would have been stellar and you would have been entertained. You should also know all the songs that are floating in my head are hits and would have made their way to your heart and soul. The vacations I've taken during my insomnia-induced minutes have also been absolutely magnificent. The mountains I climbed, the oceans I swam in, the temples I knelt in, the churches I bowed my head in, the theaters I clapped in . . . yeah, they were amazing.
Not sleeping isn't a preferable state of being, but it isn't so bad, either. The key is accepting that you can't force sleep. It will come when it wants to. I've come to believe that there is a reason I'm not snoring the hours away. Something or someone wants me awake, and they want that for a reason. There must be issues I need to work out. Matters I need to tend to. What time is better than when the rest of the world is quiet, tucked away in their own bubbles, and I'm free to explore in solitude?
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