Fall Waxing Harvest Moon
The end of days. No, not that one. Just this one and the others. The end of days is an important moment for me, a time of reflection. Often, not always, but often, I will sit down and write, thinking as I do back over the day, the anxieties of which, as the New Testament said, were sufficient unto it. So, here in the quiet, the gathering darkness headed toward the Solstice of Winter, I cast off those anxieties, trying to get to sleep.
Most of the time, over the last few years anyway, getting to sleep has not been a problem for me. Sometimes, rarely now, I’ll awaken and not be able to sleep. I’ve learned that instead of railing against it, I just get up and read until I feel sleepy again. Won’t be a problem tonight. I hope.
Most of the time sleep comes with difficulty when I’ve either been over stimulated during the day, an exciting debate or tour or new idea keeps kicking around even after bedtime; or, I’ve got an event upcoming in which I need to perform well. Sometimes that causes me to lose sleep. A speech, a tour of Chinese art for the Chinese Heritage Foundation, finishing a sermon. Not often in either case, but they do happen.
I love sleeping. And dreaming. Off and on over the years I’ve kept records of my dreams. I like to do it on a regular basis, but it doesn’t hold my interest for long, in spite of my intense curiosity. The dream time has given me many important insights. Right now my body is telling me I need to go dream. Good night.