in the wee hours

It is in the clanging stillness and solitude of sleeplessness that we see ourselves as we are. In glaring sunshine and busyness and distraction and rushing and noise we are comforted by the absence of introspection. Worries and fears are bundled along with our daily regimes; good, comforting regimes, that root and bind us. But when sleep evades and thoughts tumble, we are asked questions by that most fearful entity: ourselves. It is a strong person who can put his arm around the shoulder of that self and say, 'Don't worry now. It will look different in the morning. You are strong and capable, even if you don't feel it at 3am.' It is a reflective person who says, 'Why do you think you are thinking about this now? Do you fear not being completely in control? Or are you just excited?'

It can be a good time, though. It is difficult not to be over-awed by the lack of sleep, and the fear of the vulnerability of reduced energy levels when children demand and jobs beckon and family dynamics need sensitivity and energy to function smoothly. See it as an opportunity for true stillness and quietness, and in that to be thankful. There is the possibility to mindfully consider that for which we are thankful, instead of spiralling down the chute of that of which we are scared or cannot change (in other words, that for which we are not thankful.) It can also be a time of reflection, if that is helpful, to consider the day or the week that was, or the situation or news that is potentially causing some kind of heightened emotional awareness. I am sitting at the end of a week which has contained a string of antisocial shifts, straight into an operation under general anaesthetic, and finishing off with a job interview by telephone as I sat somewhat in pain. A job which I got, and which is slowly starting to sink in, and for which I am thankful. But there are undercurrents of nervous energy and questions and excitement at new opportunity, and some good old pain to remind me that this body is fallible

Use these moments well. Read a book (not one preceded by Face). Write a letter. Write about something you want to do, and tell someone about it. And remember that tomorrow will come and go, whether you are tired or not, but at least you will be able to look back from the routine and commotion and remember the wee small hours and the time you had.

“Listen to yourself and in that quietude you might hear the voice of God.”

- Maya Angelou, 24/5/14