Night

 As someone who has seldom had a problem sleeping when it is time for bed, it has been a new experience for me to suddenly have my sleep/wake schedule get askew and be awake at night. At first it was frustrating. I would lie in bed, wide awake, waiting, waiting for sleep. Sometimes I'd still be awake at 3 or 4, and though my body was resting, real sleep was elusive.

Finally I took the experts' advice, and started getting up for awhile when I couldn't sleep. And then one night I decided to sit outside in semi-darkness, comfortably swinging back and forth on my porch swing.  What a different world it is at night! During the day, my awareness is on hundreds of things. I get tasks done, go to meetings, make my bed, feed the cat, take a walk, give a massage, clean the house, weed the garden, call my children, eat meals. In contrast, sitting outside in the dark in the middle of the night, I was just me, no chores, no responsibilities, surrounded by quiet and by darkness. And gradually I began to appreciate and deepen into this part of our day that I had seldom really experienced. Usually when I am inside at night, either I am sleeping, or the lights are on and I am doing some of the same things I do during the day. Until now, I had seldom experienced night in my waking state, for my electric lights take it away while I am awake.

Although my sleep schedule has somewhat returned to a more normal time table, these experiences of being outside at night have been profound. They've made me realize that there is a whole world of life that I have been blind to, as I've gone about my human bustle. In contrast, sitting quietly outside, surrounded by all the non-human residents of our planet, it's possible to feel just a part of the family of life. I don't need to do anything, don't have to have a plan, a job, a purpose. I can just be. 

Though at first it seems very dark, I soon notice faint light. And now I know that on this planet, there are lots of sources of light in the night: bio-luminescence from things like lightning bugs, diffuse reflections of light from other planets, "airglow" emitted from our own planetary atmosphere, starlight, and of course the moon in all its splendor. In this relative darkness, some lives are just beginning their active period. Moths and bats wake up. A good many animals are noctural, and sometimes I see a fox or a group of deer crossing the hillside across from my home. I can hear a symphony of sound, or maybe cacophony is a better description. Insects of all varieties are making their calls, and frogs and toads and birds. 

Sitting in the night, I think about what causes the darkness. Day and night are such givens that we take them for granted. We have to think about our planet's place in the wider solar system in order to understand what is going on, why it looks to us like the sun goes down each night and comes up each morning. At any given time, one side of our planet is in shadow because it is turned away from the sun, and the other side is in sunlight. This rotation of the earth goes on day after day, night after night, giving us day and night. It makes me smile to think that as I sit in the soft darkness in Iowa, on the other side of the earth they are in bright daylight. It makes me breathe deeper to think of myself perched on one side, turning, turning toward day, and then again turning toward night.

Sunlight is such a huge factor in our world.  The sun provides the primary energy here. And life has evolved to adapt to the presence and absence of light. For most living things, night is a time to recharge, rest, reset. Even plants use night in their biological clock to advantage. Plants that never get darkness are stressed. And we humans need our sleep in order to be healthy. 

So this post is to honor the night. The peace, the stillness, the absence of light. The cessation of activity, the wrapping of all in the blanket of darkness. The wholeness to be found as one sits and witnesses the world in shadow.