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Here is an ode and a belated hello to Insomnia, five nights in the making. You’re obviously here, and I might as well acknowledge it. You are wearing down my body and my emotions, leaving me weary and with a warped sense of reality: Things that have no lasting value seem more grave than they are, and those which are important become neglected because of exhaustion.

And yet I am enveloped in equanimity, which feels a little surreal under the circumstances.

Maybe I finally have the wherewithal to recognize the impermanence of it all. This insomnia will eventually be washed away with the passing of time… Maybe I have finally learned to discern the difference between fatigue and sadness–and although, for the record, I feel lonely, which I do rarely–this discernment keeps my mood on an even keel.

More interesting still is that my mind feels clear. I toss and turn, but the thoughts that illuminate my nocturnal struggles are worth writing down.

“Your past comes flooding me…”–a future contemplation of the path of relationships…

And with this leaden fatigue, I retreat into myself. My senses turn inward, and I become insulated from the noisy, overstimulating world around me. A blessed retreat of sorts, and I listen to the thoughts and voices living inside me.

I realize how grateful I am to be able to appreciate this experience. There were times when I’d silently curse the night as I tried to will myself to sleep. Now, I am able to relax into being awake. I let my thoughts run their course, and eventually, like children, they settle, and I find myself at rest (albeit only for the next three or four hours).

The morning brings an urge to write. The only evidence of the sleepless night is the crossed-out words on the pages of my journal (a departure from the usual neatly beaded lines). It is perhaps ironic that insomnia drives me to one of my favorite things: waking up into a quiet, still house and setting to writing, a hot cup of tea at my hand, my breath flowing smoothly and synchronized with my being.

I, all of me, am finally at one place at one time: my thoughts, my breath, my body, my desires, and even my fears. Fully aware. Nowhere to run–and no reason to run. I let the ink flow onto the pages, adding to that work in progress–the book of my life…