How I’ve Come To Love The Night

I used to not like nighttime. I didn’t like darkness but I didn’t want to put bright lights on in my home either. By the end of the day, I’d lose much of my interest but wouldn’t really know what to do. For a very long time, I’d often cry at night because some sad things would feel more terrible to me in the darkness. Tears still come at times at this time, but it’s a different feeling, sadness is not as pleasant as happiness, but my heart is more full now than it was so it isn’t as unpleasant. I also love the morning, seeing the sun rise, the day still early and lots left to do, others waking or waking up soon.

I like nighttime now too. I turn off all the lights in my bedroom before I go to bed and sit on my meditation cushions beside the uncovered windows so I can see the sky above the trees, sometimes stars, planets, planes, and the moon. I listen to music with my headphones and will pray for whatever arises then with my interior words.
Often I will think of someone else at this time, what they might benefit from or how I am grateful for them, and other times I will put my own wishes into words, or just the thought that I don’t know what is best but something is.
I like mysteries. I like certain poems even if I don’t fully understand them. I like things that are criticized as “not science” and I will enjoy them because they are like art and art doesn’t always have to be factual. Most of my favorite art isn’t really based on fact. I’ve liked astrology, recently had read some thoughts on the Aquarius/Pisces cusp, had found it pretty accurate. Anyway, science is interesting, but I also like mysteries I’ve experienced that I haven’t been able to really explain or fully understand.
Pretty recently I was sitting in the darkness and someone came to mind and heart pretty strongly to pray for, so I did silently. I was completely mentally stable in this moment, am still now, and I prayed awhile for that person. Soon after I felt a touch on my shoulder, not a physical touch but the essence of it, felt that person’s presence the way you may know a particular person, can tell they are there even if you are not looking at them sitting in or coming into a room you are in. I felt as if the person I prayed for had sat next to me, but again it wasn’t a completely physical feeling or anything I saw, and I continued listening to the song, it was like they were listening too. When the song ended, I stood again and I got ready for bed.
I can’t explain that experience. But mysteries can be a kind of flame. And I’ve looked forward to this nighttime sitting in the darkness not because I’ve been craving another mysterious experience, but because it is just nice.
It is nice to think that you can look up. And someone else is always creating something, or dreaming, or living a dream moment, or praying, wondering about, or hoping for something in the midst of a commonplace activity.
I’ve enjoyed writing poems again as I don’t usually know how they will continue or which words will close them, or which idea will come for the next poem. And I like using words to convey something I am feeling, or something I’ve experienced with my senses so the reader can, too, something I’ve been thinking, a particular dream I had, or something I imagine would be pleasant.
As I am writing this, it is afternoon, almost early evening. Tonight, I will likely sit in the darkness again, not knowing what I will see in the sky or what I will feel within.

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