By Debbie Lynn
In the dead of night the background music is the roar of the train—haunting, lonely and strangely comforting.
An owl chimes in as if to tell me I am not the only one who is awake.
What is it about this time of night?
Solemn thoughts, the restless moon (all phases, it doesn’t matter), light or dark—it is so present and the energy is very real and I ponder the life that is around me. Some things make me smile, some cut deeply. Wrestling with past choices, a tear finds its way down my face clouding my sensibility for a moment.
I clamor back to the tangible, to the now, to the conscious results which I have created and paved with emotional spontaneity. Out of nothing more than desperation, I try to hold the feeling that I had long ago but it doesn’t have an effect anymore, and I send it love.
“Sometimes, darkness sharpens sight. In darkness one can often see the exact shape of the soul and how high its fires can truly flare”
~ Clarissa Pankola Estes
3 AM turns to 4, then 5 and the light is slowly and methodically beginning to take over the sky.
I turn inward again—mortality is now the question. More than half way through my life a bit of reprieve rushes through the veins. I have done a lot of living; hard living, soft living and the unthinkable, but better for it.
There were many times I fought and lost, many more that I won. Many times I questioned it all and found myself alone in the midst of thousands with the same motives—clarity, peace and resolve. Am I awake, fully alive? Or am I sleeping in a fitful state of chaos?
The light is getting brighter minute-by-minute and I pause; I drink it in.
For one microsecond I am empty….
The outside is starting to hum and a smile takes over where the tear had run its course. I am going to make a difference today. I am going exalt my self to my self, gratefully, happily and sincerely.
This difference is internal. No one will notice.
I give alms to the rise of the sun. It is always a miracle to me that I get to see another day unfold. No expectations, no guilt, and I shake off the previous hours that tempted my serenity (because I am far too tired to go down that road).
A family member brushes my thoughts now and I coil in repel with the noise of her inane voice—the complaints and the way she finds fault in her existence. I can’t go there, ever. We all have a past, perhaps we all have a future but the only thing that is for certain is now. Why be sad? What a waste of time.
Three hours have come and gone. I conclude at the breath of 6 AM, my life is all a series of moments spurred on by my constant thirst and curiosity. Thankfully I rest in knowing these traits are inherent in my soul and keep things vibrant interesting.
I could never imagine the turn of the page (the turn of events) which led me to my current life yet I called them all in; I called them in long and strong, so I accept my doing.
We all execute this, whether we admit it, or not. We are masters and totally responsible for our life. Just ours, but we do co-mingle our stuff constantly; it is blinding and binding at times and tough to sort it all out.
The room has a soft glow and I take a long stretch. The sounds of another day assault my senses in a good way. I have managed to conquer a restless night—flawed, broken and imperfect.
I catch a contented yawn…
Some say the pull of the moon is the natural clock that nudges at our consciousness; some say it is the monster of hidden remorse. Some say interrupted sleep is dangerous. Humm, I prefer challenge, but I really don’t know and don’t spend too much time in the whys anymore; concentrating on betterment seems to be a more productive space.
I am hitting the hardest darkest places when everyone else lies sleeping, and I know it is okay to take a glimpse into the past. The past keeps me humble. It keeps me in gratitude.
Reaching, pushing and then surrender—that is what we do and we can either rise to meet it all or hang in the shadows of the wee hours of the morning.
Nothing is for sure, except the sun rising…and I hear that that may even be an illusion. But I say, a little “Thank You” to whomever is listening and I purge the night’s thoughts pen to page.
24 hours in a day. A few restful hours in the night—I can’t solve it all.
Here comes a smile again. I can be good with that.
Debbie Lynn realized at a very young age that the outer reality was a far cry from her inner truth and meeting her inner wisdom head on always turned into a challenge. The wonderment, curiosity and hypocrisy of life led to exploration and a cumulative documentation (art and journaling) of what she lovingly calls “the purge”. It is her way of ridding any negative energy from the daily grind. She says, “In essence, it is a way to start fresh and cleanse the soul.” Debbie has had numerous articles published with elephant journal, The Edge Magazine and Simple Steps Real Life Magazine. Her daily posts can be found on Facebook.
Editor: Dana Gornall
The wonderment, curiosity and hypocrisy of life led to exploration and a cumulative documentation (art and journaling) of what she sees, feels and observes. Debbie writes and speaks to the logical side of Spirituality (being accountable, responsible, and full engaged in life's happenings). She is now cruising the Caribbean with her Husband on their 46’ Catamaran “INDIGO.” Debbie has had numerous articles published in Rebelle Society, Elephant Journal, The Edge Magazine and SAIL Magazine and now a featured writer for The Tattooed Buddha. Her daily posts can be found on Facebook .
Latest posts by Debbie Lynn (see all)
- Yes, Even Well-Meant Rants Can be a Form of Violence - August 20, 2017
- Stop Trying to Make Life Spiritual (It Already Is) - July 18, 2017
- In Meditation - July 8, 2017