Waking Up at 3am

Early morning solitude has its own ache….and gifts.

I’m up at 3am again. Two nights in a row now. 

Although I mostly sleep quite well, when I do wake up, it seems to be around 3am. There is something about that hour.

The world is silent. Palpable silence. Silence that I can feel deep inside my soul.

So many feelings. Loneliness, but not the kind of loneliness that being around another human can fill. It’s deeper than that.

Quietness that mimics, in my mind, the quiet that we will all come to when our time on earth is done.

I think about that more these days, now being an elder.

It is a quiet that I must honor. Noise cannot help. Music cannot help. I must hear the silence. I must hear what is inside of me.

It can be painful sometimes. 

I wander around my home, looking at all the familiar possessions and yet they all somehow feel strangely alien and apart from me. I have come to a time of life of beginning to let go of things, passing them along to others who may also find them precious for a while. 

I make myself a hot drink. Something about a hot cup of coffee or tea in my hands can be soothing. Sometimes. 

Not this time.

I feel an ache in my throat and tears behind my eyes. I feel a deep aloneness. So deep that it feels as if it has no bottom. An abyss.

I cannot focus on reading. I don’t want to distract myself with my phone, or tv, although there are times when I use those to ease the depth of some of the feelings. I believe in feeling all the feelings, that they are a gift of being human and being alive. But I must admit, there are times that the gift feels a bit too raw. A bit too overwhelming.

 I breathe.

I want comfort, but there is none that I can find that works at this moment. So into this abyss I allow myself to go, feeling my way. 

It’s like a cave. Caves are not my favorite. I can get a bit claustrophobic. But into it I go. 

I sometimes have a vision of a cave appear when I visualize an internal spiritual journey in my mind. A journey to my core. This cave always has a fire burning deep inside of it. There are always animals around that fire, sitting as if they have been waiting for me.

These feel like spirit animals. Animals that call to different parts of my soul. Animals that may have something to teach or tell me.

There is always a bear. This feels important, although I don’t always understand or have words for it. I even created a painting of a bear a while ago. Her eyes have depth to them. They see into me. They see my rawness and sit with it. And encourage me to do the same. Encourage me not to run. Remind me that even though I am now an elder, there is wildness still within me. 

The ache in my throat grows. The tears come closer to the surface. Tears of love lost. Tears of life past. Tears of deep aloneness. Tears of still inhabiting, for however much longer I may be blessed to have, this very human body that we are loaned for such a brief time. Tears that sting, and cleanse. 

Right now, they just hurt. 

I feel sad. Sad for the pain in my life that I have experienced. Sad for the separation from others that I sometimes feel. Sad for the awareness of mortality. Sad for all those that I have lost, that have died. Sad for what I didn’t do or say. Sad that I cannot reach out and touch them, talk with them, be once again by them, if only for a moment. 

I feel their presence around and within me. I welcome their spirits. I talk with them, in my heart. 

The tears flow more freely now. They need to come. I cannot contain them any longer. 

I am here. At 3am. Alive. Alone. 

I know that this too shall pass. So, let me be here in it while I can. 

The pain of our world is also something that I feel more deeply inside of me these days. The pain of the earth and the world. The suffering. Climate change and extinction of species. Wars and everything that they bring. Innocent lives lost before they can even begin. Leaders that focus on more on power than on humanity and caring for those that they lead.

I ache. Ache even to hear the chain saws that our entire neighborhood has been hearing for the past several weeks as the preparations for another winter are made and trees that may fall are cut down now to prevent possible injury and damage. I talk to the trees by my home, empathizing for the pain of losing some of their family. I know they feel it. If I feel it, how much more must their roots feel the pain of life cut down?

It seems that I feel everything more deeply as I continue on this path of aging. A bittersweet gift.

There is also the exquisite beauty in this life that cannot be stilled, even in the midst of all of this pain.

The sunrises. The sunsets. The forests, oceans, animals, life all around us in so many forms if we stop and look. Beauty that takes my breath away. Awe inspiring. 

Babies are being born and growing. New life to carry on. Hope for the future. 

Acts of kindness that I see every day. Love expressed simply because. 

Elders are still sharing their wisdom to whomever may listen. Still participating in this very precious life while they can. 

The earth is still splendid, even with all that we have done to her. 

I love this time of the morning, even in the struggles. I can hear the voice within. In all of its beauty and raw pain. In all its awareness of mortality, aging, and time passing more quickly as the years go by. Awareness of this exquisite gift of being alive. Feeling deep, sacred gratitude. 

 But sometimes it takes a bit of time. Sometimes I must sit in the dark and wait for the light. And listen to the quiet of 3am and all that it has to tell me. And breathe into it all, while I still can.