Good Night

detail of painting, m/m

Lately, the night has been waking me, pleading with me.

I have to take notice when I rise of my own accord without any trace of desire to keep bundled up under the comfort of covers.

It feels as though I am called forward.

Into the dark.

But why?

To hear the rooster announce?

Or take strength from the uncomplicated and static-free air of a pre-dawn?

These hours are always my chance to feel myself clearly in the mystery of things.

If I close my eyes, there is an underlying anticipation.

Of something unknown to me but not of the monster variety.

It feels like a waiting thing that I want to make myself especially beautiful for.

I walk to the kitchen and my legs feel oddly stronger.

It seems in the deepest of night I reclaimed some lost parts of myself and I step lightly.

I sense all the people out there nestled under the small lights of their beloved households.

Love and fears and illness and dreams and courage and herculean strength and boredom and ALL OF IT happening just down the street or round some bend.

The dawn is showing her skirts now.

Life is coming in fast but still at a tolerable rate.

Nature has such an elegant tempo.

Never too fast or slow and reliable to the minute.

She makes me want to be better.


Not really smarter but more PERMEABLE.

More able to allow the full impact of her gifts and lessons and especially gifts.

If you can know and tolerate the dark then she lets you use her to FLY!


One Response to “Good Night”

  1. Laura Hegfield on August 23rd, 2010

    beautiful prose Kathy…I too am quite an early riser these days…there is an unusual feeling of welcome that the dark hours before dawn offer if one relinquishes the annoyance brought on by the desire to “be normal’ and sleep longer like everyone else…now that I’ve learned to surrender to this early waking (most of the time, some days I still struggle), it feels like a sweet secret invitation to simply be present to breath, to sensation, to my wandering thoughts that seem always to open my heart to prayer and gratitude. Thank you Kathy for helping me write about this experience. I think I might blog about this some and include a link to this eloquent post of yours.

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