If I’ve managed to convey one thing in my little series about insomnia, I hope you know this: insomnia is hard … but also, it can be pretty special.
Few words capture this better than the ones below, which I wrote just after the night of my ninth wedding anniversary. It’s one of my favorite posts … I guess because it reminds me that sometimes, the hard things give us our most beautiful moments.
And somehow, that seems like a good place to end.
Enjoy…
///
A week ago…
It’s three a.m. and I’m lying in bed, feeling the slow wash of the oscillating fan stirring the sheets. I settle closer against my husband, stare at the ceiling and wonder — a familiar question — if I’m the only one awake.
I’ve spent my life as an insomniac, and I can tell you: there’s no loneliness as deep and existential as the one that comes when you lie sleepless in the dark — especially beside someone you love. You lean into him, letting his breath tickle your neck, his heartbeat drum against your spine.
Still: while he sleeps, he doesn’t even know you exist.
But on this night, instead of the usual ache of his absence, I sense T’s presence — his breath conscious, shallow. With me, somehow.
“Are you awake?” I whisper, and in a moment there’s his hum of affirmation.
“Me too,” I say.
It’s the night of our wedding anniversary, and outside, the Perseids are falling: shooting stars streaking the black, like they do every year on August 12.
Suddenly it just feels wrong: us, asleep. The universe, awake.
“Do you want to go see the stars?” I say.
We do.
*
We go in our pajamas: bundle ourselves into the Volvo with extra coats and two cups of iced coffee.
T drives us into the mountains, away from the city lights. We drive, and drive, through one empty street and then another, climbing the hills until the black bowl above us is twinkling clear.
And then we stop.
T switches off the engine.
The sudden silence shocks us, until our ears adjust to all the other sounds of the night.
*
In the cicada-hum and cricket-song we open the sunroof and wriggle halfway through, leaning back with our elbows on the car’s cold roof, our bare feet on tiptoe on the leather seats below.
Somehow it feels like we’re standing side-by-side in waist-deep water. The black sheet-metal shines, reflecting stars.
Time passes, slow as a single drop of water easing down the lip of the faucet. The stars twinkle but seem otherwise unmoved.
And then, the first streak of light tears across the sky.
“Did you see that?” T almost shouts.
“I did!”
We wait longer. Time passes — five minutes? ten? — and more meteorites flash earthward. Some are just tiny dashes of light; others look like small comets, with long tails that leave a smoldering afterglow.
We laugh.
We holler.
We gasp.
“Did you see that one?”
“Look — over there!”
We watch until our necks hurt from craning them back. Until our eyes feel owlishly wide: unblinking in the starry dark.
*
And now here I sit at my keyboard, a week later, pondering the way it works:
The way we must put ourselves in the path of wonder, whether that’s the wonder of human love or natural beauty, the wonder of grace or God or goodness.
And I know — there are moments when we stumble over the magic like it’s a tripwire. We skin our knees on the glory and raise our hands in hallelujah. In those moments, the Mystery chooses us.
But those moments are few. And — my God — I don’t want to go through life asleep, hoping and dreaming of the next one.
So I get up in the middle of the night. (Are you with me?) I push back the bedsheets and stumble into the dark like a sleepwalker, hearing that voice at my back, still and small as my Sunday-school teacher told me it would be:
Open your eyes, love.
Open your eyes.
Engage.
And I walk out into a world where stars fall like rain.
I crane my head back and stand very still, my eyes wide-open.
*
Maybe you’re standing here, too. β€
Even before I got to your ‘path of wonder’ I was thinking ‘wonderful’
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I’m so glad, Derrick. That makes me happy … Have a fabulous Friday! π
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This is beautiful. I have no other word for it. It sounds absolutely wonderful. I wish I could do it too. Star gazing is love. Thank you for sharing such a gorgeous post.
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You *can* do it!! There are several annual meteor showers. A quick Google search will tell you when you can see them in your part of the world … You just need a good stretch of darkness, away from city lights, and of course, clear skies.
T and I think of the Perseids as “our” meteor shower, since they fall on our anniversary each year. π
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I hope I’ll find them here in India. But thank you nevertheless for your kindness.
It’s heartening to know that you get to relish the beauty of meteor showers, that too, on your anniversary. π
Stay beautiful. Take care.
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Same to you, lovely!!
& by the way: you can see the Perseids in India, too, although the moon will be a little brighter this year than is ideal. Check it out! π
http://www.spacedex.com/perseids/locations/perseid-asia-india.php
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I also have sleeping problems
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I’m so sorry to hear that. π¦
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Yes don’t worry
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We all have our ways of dealing with sleeplessness, I suppose. Here’s hoping, though, that you find the methods you need to stay healthy and happy and that you find a little silver lining in it, too.
β€
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Thank you
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Yes, we miss so much when we sleep. It’s why I love camping so much. I’m always the last one to go to sleep. I sit around the dying embers of the camp fire late into the night and early morning watching the night skies and looking out to see shooting stars. It’s a beautiful time to savor the quiet. Beautiful post.
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That sounds absolutely magical, Miriam… I do far too little camping, and you’ve inspired me now.
Thank you for reading! Have a beautiful day! π
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And you have a wonderful weekend my friend. I’m off tomorrow for an overnight camping trip and looking forward to another night around the fire.
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Wonderful!! That just sounds perfect. Drink it in! π
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I absolutely will. Thank you π
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π
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What a wonderful gift from T…to wake up and go…and share this other gift of stars and the beauty of the night sky for your anniversary. Memorable, for sure!
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Yes!! I’ll always remember that night… So exceptionally grateful for him, for so many reasons.
Thank you for reading!! Love your voice in this space … π
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Happy to have found your space in the blogosphere!
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π
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As I read this I couldn’t help but smile. Love you!
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Aw, right back at ya, girl!! Miss you! π
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You are definitely not alone. I’m 15 and I have insomnia. I agree it’s something special, even though I go to high school and have a lot of after school things, I don’t think I would give up being an insomniac. I can’t see myself without. Being awake through the night and early morning I actually find myself learning new things about myself. My voice, my love of reading, my dancing, my drawings and my writings.
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I completely understand that feeling … And I’m so glad to hear I’m not the only one who finds joy and beauty in it. π
It’s funny, but the part you mentioned about learning new things about yourself: I honestly believe that’s insomnia’s greatest gift. Our mind hides so much of ourselves from our conscious thoughts, but the funny middle place between dreaming and waking — which is a place we sleepless folks so often inhabit — that’s where we can find what’s hidden and make beauty out of it. π
Keep speaking, reading, dancing, drawing and writing … I have a feeling you’ll find real magic there.
Thank you for reading!! <:
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Your words took me through each part, enticing me into what happens next. The anticipation of whether you hear a reply. How you described the stars felt like you were there watching them. Simple words but with a strong presence. An extremely enjoyable read. Thank-you.
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Thank you for that … What a beautiful and encouraging comment, and how nice of you to take the time to write it.
Welcome!! Hope you enjoy this little space. π
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You are welcome, I am believer that if you feel someone has written something so well, then let them know. We can only better ourselves if people leave honest and informative comments π
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So true … And so generous. Honestly… Thank you. π
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Hi Ashley, I had a general look into all the posts in this series (again) and I just wanted to leave a comment to say it was really interesting to read. π Thank you for sharing! And what a beautiful way to end the series with this post.
Out of curiosity, my Mr is also T. – It’s the little things that make us relate to each other π
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Aw, Ines, what a kind comment … I’m glad you enjoyed my miniature series. π And I’m glad you found your way here!
Funny about our guys … You’re so right. It truly *is* little things.
Enjoy your day, sweet soul! π
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I’m glad too π Thank you and see you around!
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π
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I can only hope that one day I am able to have an experience similar to this.
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I have no doubt you will … People hungry for magic always find it eventually. β€
Thank you for visiting! Hope you feel welcome in this little space. π
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“Put ourselves in the path of wonder”? That’s a good one. One we tend to forget. Thank you for reminding us, “Alpha Zulu”. π
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