Embracing the dark

Last night I went to bed at 10:30. 

In the two months since I have been wheat-free I have been a bundle of energy up until all hours of the night, extending my day with electric sunshine--our house the one that is lit up until all hours.  I sit on the front steps with Jackie, I practice my guitar, I read, I fold laundry and clean the house, I send emails, I even write a bit.  I do it all until I fall into bed exhausted.  Falling into bed exhausted feels right to me.  The activity feels good, healthy, a sign that all is moving forward, that I am recovering. 

And without fail, thanks to wheat-free living I am up with the sun 7 hours later.

But at my check up on Friday, my doctor urged me to rethink this plan and to indulge in sleep a little sooner.  To allow myself to really recharge.  To turn the lights off sooner.  So last night, with Max and his best buddy Jake asleep in the living room at 9, I fell into bed myself with a good book.  By 10:30 I too was off to dreamland.

And now its the morning.  Its still so very early but I can't sleep one minute more.

The deep dark silent morning of approaching winter surrounds me.  How different from the mornings in spring, when the sun rises earlier each day, the birds pulling him up out of bed with their songs.  This morning is so still and rich and lazy.  Like Oaxacan hot chocolate, I want to drink it in.

I cannot turn the lights in the house on.  It would feel rude.  So I sit here now with candles lit.  The street lights still flicker down the street with the same golden light.

Unlike the evenings when I buzz with activity, now all I want to do is sit.  Sit and take in the silence.  Wrap the velvety coat of November mornings around me and just be still. 

After a month of near manic activity, I am ready for a month of quiet reflection, a simple social calendar and getting back to the basics.  I need a month to reconnect with Max, the sweep the floors, and to find a new gluten free bread recipe.  

Today we "fall back", let the clocks stand still for an hour as we finally embrace the dark of the changing season.  I am ready now.  I think I am finally ready.