A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations
I find I suffer from sensory overload. The speed of the daylight world deafens and overwhelms. Night is more to my pace—the solemn simplicity and the space for rumination. Life still possesses a sense of grace while drinking in the light of the moon, and exploring the quietness the night yields.
I make all pivotal decisions based upon the feeling I have in my gut at the end of the day—as I lay there staring at the ceiling, into the darkness; for it is there in the dark, when my senses are deprived of all distractions, that my feelings concerning my life’s direction become clear.
Night invites contemplation. At night the roar of the churning modern machine hushes, our daily tasks are done, and our duties are set aside. In the dim light—away from the set parameters of what is possible and impossible, aspiration ignites and we follow it hoping it will lead us unto a better version of ourselves.
In the beginning, during their most fragile stage, new dreams are too delicate for daylight. They must gather strength in the dark where all things are possible. Only after a time spent in the soft womb of night’s unspoken thoughts, can we bring our dreams with us into the day, and not lose them to the harsh light of scrutiny. Heed the voice that rises in the calm of night. It is your true self.
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