It’s the middle of the night.
Despite going to bed at my usual time around 9 pm, and shortly falling asleep well before 10 to settle in for my evening slumber, I awoke briefly around 10:30 upon hearing my husband on the phone.
It’s not uncommon these days for him to stay up a bit later, or to rise early, for a phone call as his work connects him with people on various time zones.
However, nearly an hour later, the bed was still empty. So, I called him to bed in hopes of being able to nestle in for my desired sleep….
Yet, here I am at nearly 1:30 am, while my husband snores away, after attempting for the past two hours to lull myself to sleep through social media surfing and reading, taking in the quiet of the dark night.
Lately, I have been craving silence, and to some extent solitude. The 10-day silent meditation retreat I keep on my ‘to do eventually’ list is becoming less fearful as a daunting experience, and more attractive as a salve to a self-inflicted wound.
There is little to nothing to complain about where we are. I mean, how can one be truly discontent surrounded by vineyards in “mostly” sunny southern France?
It’s not a matter of contentment, but more of a need for nourishment like the soil craving the rainfall after a drought. As an introvert, being constantly bombarded with sound and another’s presence – even when it is the one I dearly love – is draining and overwhelming. Add on to that the daily activities of work and building a media platform.
I need peace and quiet. I need calm and tranquility. I need stability and sanity. I need to recharge, refresh, and replenish my internal fuel cells – alone.
All of these needs are hard to meet in a small, barely two-bedroom cottage where the stone walls are paper thin when a daily bundle of energy storms around filling the air and space until it is almost suffocating that the only escape is often, to escape.
Sometimes it feels like there is not enough air to breathe for two when it is supposed to be shared. Lately, I feel a bit as if I am gasping and grasping into an unknown dark abyss and just barely floating through based solely on trust and faith.
Like all things, this too shall pass. Like all things, the dark of night exacerbates the speckled holes of a sunlit life. Like all things, there is a silver lining.
Perhaps, I should embrace the quiet of the night and make the most of the wee hours to myself. If I cannot find my peace and calm during the day, maybe I can change my own pattern and expectations – until something else presents itself as another option. Maybe, my body and mind are telling me something and I shouldn’t fight the opportunity that is before me….
And, possibly, I should look into that retreat…. π
~T π
