sleepless night, all the way through and unable to even lay my head down for more than a few minutes, anxiety maybe, or perhaps something other that the doctors have yet to show. Regardless, I haven’t been well and not for some time. Oddly enough, I appear to be healthy in almost every respect, proper diet, daily exercise along with additional walking and running, twice daily meditation to manage the toxicity of stress that so often runs rampant through our lives. My recent blood work, blood pressure, heart rate are all in order, better than average actually. But something’s off, my breathing pattern disrupted and leaving me sleepless for several days now and it’s a pattern that’s often repeated. Being unwell can happen to anyone and it doesn’t matter the previous health leading to this day. I know this as a truth, and sadly, so do many more. There’s no escaping certain hardships in life. Unpleasant things happen to us all.

that’s just the way it is.

and yet there’s always the beautiful, and a sleepless night, one that’s felt near to be hopeless, provides ample time to reflect on qualities so often unexamined in waking hours when I feel fine. Let’s call it a gift from sleepless nights, an opportunity to review my life in order. By this I don’t mean casting my memory to the past and offering and judgement or comparisons, no, this is a current review of how my life is now, this moment of near anguish exhaustion and pleading for an easy, uninterrupted breath. There’s beauty found right now, maybe especially now when any relief is felt so sharply. I can trace my breath to the moment of its disruption, rather slow and pleasing, sustaining, and that it keeps life is a beautiful thing to find myself aware of, rising, falling, amazing in its rhythm. And then my world is suddenly altered to an entirely other place, breathing rhythm lost to a panic heave, exhaled through stages to settle both my mind and body. The whole cycle is repeated countless times every night, more often now than ever before, weeks filled with sleepless nights.

but I always return to the breath, somehow, its rhythm restored if only for the starting moment, the beauty of its offer found once more. Yet really there’s no search to find any of this, not the suffering of breath and sleep interrupted, nor the beauty of it’s even flow. Both are simply happening, seamless, different, yet equally belonging to the fullness of their moment. I find beauty right here, amidst a sleepless night, and it doesn’t seem so rare, indeed, it’s always present, occurring in same instant as my suffering and sorrow. Of course given my preference I would reduce the struggle, draw an easy breath, and sleep peacefully through the night. Unfortunately, that’s just not as it is right now, it’s a sleepless night, full of broken breaths, struggle, and yes, so much beauty found.

that’s just the way it is.


Peace, Eric




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