Night waves

Acknowledging and accepting the ebb and flow of sleep and enjoying the rain.

Hello lovelies. Getting my writing bootie on. I know, I’ve been dragging my feet this year and I definitely missed you!

Night flowers

‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep’. — Robert Frost.

Grey curtains in two shades of grey drop down the wall as straight as falling plums. The rippled fringe along the top links to a lighter, liquid grey that glows in the semi-darkness from the mirror on the wardrobe door. 

I can hear the deep, belly-hum of a boat, most likely a huge tanker way out to sea crossing the horizon. Its dull ebb reaches land and echoes across the town in the small, deaf hours. The container ship is an insomniac’s companion.

I get up again to have a glass of milk. I open the kitchen window while I drink and breathe in the night air from the navy-blue silhouette of the ancient olive tree. The sound changes this side of the house and tells a different story. I can hear the rustle of the wind caught in the palm fronds that shuffle in the wind.

I return to bed, tiptoeing up the stairs. Each footstep seems too loud when the house is silent, everyone sleeping, including the dog who has quietly crept onto the sofa while we were upstairs. 

Tired of not feeling sleepy. Tired of thinking about my book. How do you promote it, and where? How do you explain it, and to who? More than anything, where do you start? Was I happier with the simplicity of before, when the book was nothing but an idea?  Christmas was the busiest I have ever known and any routine I had is still shot to pieces. Yes, my book arrived in a complicated time, that’s true.

There is a ‘before-book’ and an ‘after-book life’. It takes some getting used to. It’s another thing to care for. I had three offspring, which is considered here as a large family. Now I have four.

Finally, my eyelids are heavy and dropping. I listen to the recordings in my headphones of rain. I’ve listened to a meditation twice tonight and know all the words before they’re whispered,

‘Declare that you are welcoming a cocoon of sleep…and know that there are waves in sleep that come and go. Accept these waves…’*

I feel sleep returning, it nestles in under my eyelids, softens my fingers and melts my legs. My feet are already gone. Wrapped in the spirit of sleep I am relieved to rest until dawn. I put off finding answers. Maybe it’s OK to negotiate night without answers. Caught up in the wisdom of sleep I think asking these questions is a natural first step of many, many small footsteps forward.

Three hours later the alarm clock rings. I open the curtains a little and see it is raining again for the second time this year. I open the window and listen to the real-life patter of gold landing on the roof. I just know it won’t last long. I love the sound. Rain brings a balance to life. It soothes the rough, dusty edges. Nature here aches with thirst**. Even the gorse is dying mid-winter. I empathise with nature and its desperation for the rain. 

There are waves in the night, in the dark. There are waves in sound, in our own energy, in the soul. Even the rain lands in waves of its own making.

We should accept these waves. 

The wabi-sabi

*Bone Deep Sleep by Jennifer Percy

**The main reservoir that feeds the city is at 4%, January 2024.

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And from my reading here on SubStack this week:

Here is a story about how we swing in life like a pendulum. It resonated with me while the rain splashed the window, from ‘exploratory to pondering’, to researching and doing, to contentment by Ashley.

The Pendulum

Beauties in mid-winter

And here is a link to Jeffrey Streeter talking about ‘resilience to winter’ and the stunning cherry blossom celebrated in festivals in Japan, something I would love to see. His article caught my eye. Especially when he talked of resilience. In my book there are many photographs of cherry blossom too, photographed in Spain. In January the landscape is decorated here with almond blossom and then followed by cherry. I love how the Japanese have learned to empathise and celebrate nature and all its beauty and they are so much more accepting of its flaws and by extension, our own flaws too.

Investing my time in studying the values of the wabi-sabi is time well spent. I’ve thought that for a couple years now.

When in Japan: before the cherry blossom comes the plum

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Thank you for reading. So nice to have you with me.

All the photos here are my own. As they are in my book ‘Sanctuary’. I need to promote it! I think my concern to do it properly and well is ironically holding me back. I will get round to it and introduce you soon! A twenty second video is in the pipeline but I am thinking of asking you all to help me decide on the images to promote it. Decisions in 2024 seem to be a struggle!! I think I am half stuck in a winter hibernation.

Lots of love.

(Apologies.

The link in the first publication wasn’t working, so this has been edited to put the link right. I think I had shared a link to a link!

AH!!!)