At the moment

I can hear the ceiling fan creaking and clicking overhead, and that sort of full bodied quietness of night time with the windows open.

There are so many thoughts that could threaten to overtake me, for the awareness of possibilities tends to excite me and get me all in a dither. But for now, it seems that my larger mind just sees them and lets them pass by, or lets them sit there lurking under the table without feeling the need to feed them table scraps and train them to keep coming back.

There is agitation and unrest even in the midst of this peacefulness, but in some ways it almost makes the peace more full, more real.

It has been a long time since I so enjoyed the fact of going to bed for the real experience of it and the satisfaction of knowing its benefit in my life, even while wanting so much in so many ways to remain conscious - to rest here a bit longer, to think with a little more clarity than usual, to act on things I often dither my way out of clearly acting on.

Part of building real abiding confidence is having the trust that doing the right thing, caring for those basic physical needs rather than allowing myself to give special dispensation to unusually enjoyable or clear states of mind, strengthens the likelihood of their return... trusting that one way or another, I am on my way somewhere, and letting go, not needing to own this moment or this mind, is the path.