Stillness. Quiet. Calm. Call it what you will. The insomniac in me relishes these moments. Even though tomorrow I will be tired. Even though tomorrow I will curse this inability for rest.
Right now I am grateful.
I am grateful for the hum of the air conditioner creating a relaxing white noise while a cool breeze plays softly across my face.
I am grateful for the darkness. It forces me to look inward, something I don’t do nearly enough in the light.
I am grateful for the solitude. Solitude, it’s a desire that’s rarely satiated.
Maybe it is a different kind of rest that I crave.
I try to let the emotions and pain come as they may. Welcome them with open arms. They come. They visit and then then they’re on their way. Sadness, happiness, pain, joy all of it. There is a place here. If they are allowed to come as they please they will usually leave as they please as well. But each emotion requires the others’ prior or future presence. One cannot know happiness without sadness and pain. They give each other intensity and contrast that we would not know otherwise.
I am reminded of Rumi’s poem
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
— Jellaludin Rumi