I’m awakening slowly — curious about where I am. 2:30 A.M. flashes from the too-bright LED of the clock. I yawn, stretch, and notice that I’m deliciously warm and cozy, cuddled under a quilt on my favorite couch. Here in the drowsy black of night thoughts arrive — first one, now another, like shooting stars arcing through the darkness, then fizzling as their energy is depleted.
More thoughts arrive, some with questions about lack:
Not enough love — can there be enough or too much?
Not enough momentum — do my desires need more definition?
Not enough planning — do I need goals, calendar dates, trips, tickets?
A reminder comes from somewhere that thoughts come and go. I watch them and the word, fleeting pops to mind describing their flow from appearance to disappearance.
A curious interest arises in the strangeness of the word, fleeting. I say it aloud slowly, puncturing the quiet. I stretch the screechy long vowels and exaggerate the crackle of T – “fleeeeeeTing.”
What does fleeting mean? Brief, short-lived, transient, unstable, vanishing swiftly — all true of thoughts. They arrive, linger, then poof they’re gone – except for these typed words to anchor them.
Oh, that brings me to more thoughts about lack — this time as shoulds and shouldn’ts:
I should be sleeping; I’ll be tired in the morning.
I shouldn’t be using my iPad; artificial light inhibits sleep.
Will I remember this interlude in the glare of day? Does the memory depend on how I engage with the thoughts? Let’s test the idea. Since my focus seems to be on lack, I’m thinking of the darkness as a dearth of light. What if I give the thought a positive spin and feel embraced by the darkness? Hmmm. Positive feels better.
How interesting to watch ideas come and go:
- Noticing when they arrive.
- Feeling the ease of positive thoughts.
- Musing on the demands of negative ones.
- Ignoring any urgency.
- Noticing how they melt in and out of silence.
A yawn arises and I’m delightfully drowsy.
Thanks for keeping me company.