Sleepless Archipelago Eyes

Eye in the sky

It’s 1:30 a.m.  You are listening to Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon”.

Was it four hours ago you lay your tired head upon soft pillow waiting for sleep to lull you into your deepest night?  Four hours of watching images dance before your inner eyes.  Four hours of your very own harvest moon lighting up the crevices of your soul.  Stars of thoughts gleaming; feelings soaring and diving like owls between shadows of branches against the curtains of your eyelids.

You see so clearly the young boy dressed in 1920’s attire bouncing his red ball against the sidewalk.  Up, down and the image shifts.  Ladies in long dresses walk arm in arm and you want to peer deeper into your hypnagogic images but they move on, indifferent to the viewer.  There!  A ship waits in a glass bottle.  But now it’s gone.  And another image crests.  And another.  You watch your own inner movie with no plot.  It plays on and on.

You hear inner thoughts which seem to come from far away.  “Archipelago eyes” you heard clearly about two hours ago and you repeated it to yourself at least four times because it sounded so intriguing.  But no meaning attaches itself.  Phrases arrive, full-blown and complete, and touch down like unidentified flying objects on the recesses of your moon-crater brain.  They lift off again into the meaninglessness from which they birthed.

You remind yourself that Spirit rules the night.  You are full-fledged exhausted but the inner world never ceases.  It continues on:  images, thoughts, random phrases. 

You rise upwards from the pillow, tossing off blankets, turning on the kitchen light.  You brew chamomile tea and sip it.  Joy fills your heart.  You realize you are made of joy, that joy comprises everything you thought you were.  The world of outside and inside blurs.  You suddenly see that the outside is the inside; the inside is the outside.  It feels different from you ever knew.  But that, too, fades in five seconds.  You stare, amazed, at your hands and bring them up to stroke your cheeks.  You meditate, breathing so deep your tailbone flutters.  Your out-breath soars up and out your crown chakra.  You think of yesterday.  You find yourself walking back to bed and smile, knowing sleep is near.

Sleep smiles back but does not comply.  You listen to your husband’s steady breathing.  You begin writing a blog in your head.  You long to hear Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon”.  Your thoughts call him “Neil Armstrong”.  You realize you are living with one foot on earth and the other on the moon.

One step for Neil; one step for…But now it’s getting late and the moon is rising high.  We know where the music’s playing; let’s go out and feel the night.

You want to see Neil dance again on the dust craters of the moon of our night.  You want to see the owls reflected in your singing eyes.  You want to go to bed and sleep until the sun crests the tree branches.  Yet you bow instead to that which is rising high within the celebration of this sacred night, the stars flying down into your knowing of divinity, what can never be broken, what can never fall asleep, that which slowly blinks its yellow eye toward dawn.


17 thoughts on “Sleepless Archipelago Eyes

  1. The spirit of the night, disjointed , disconnected thoughts in the darkness and the records playing in your head…I believe we have all experienced such mind ramblings during the dark hours. Your words discribe it all so perfectly.

    Funny…I’ve been playing Neil Young’s ‘Old Man’ over and over this week…

  2. Good morning Joanne and Kim…yawn….good morning! Coming with scrunched up eyes to see what hatched in the middle of the night. Joanne, I had a feeling this would be quite a universal experience. Only the thoughts have been changed to protect the innocent. LOL! And on into morning we go. With coffee.

  3. It’s so good to read this perfect description of night time thoughts, flitting from one thing to another…and I’ll think you you with a smile the next time I’m playing my own night time movie in my head. It’s so good to have company along the way.

    • Helen, it always makes my heart smile to see your comments here. To remember the beauty of you! I am glad you could relate to the “Movie of the Night”. Thank you for your presence.

  4. Oh Kathy – A breath so deep your tailbone flutters. That is exquisite.

    “…outside is the inside; the inside is the outside.” Yes!

    Like propellers on an airplane, the busyness of the night mind is going so fast that it’s almost still.

    I’m drinking it all in — thank you.

    • It was a beautiful night, Laurie. A beautiful night with tinges of impatience which kept popping up their exhausted heads to say, “Can’t we go to sleep YET?” A funny note. Just when I FINALLY fell asleep around 2:30, my daughter was awakened in NYC and couldn’t get back to sleep for hours & hours. How very odd, don’t you think? It was meant to be a sleepless night for some reason…

  5. Elisa – I have a large selenite blade that I keep on a stand under the Reiki table in my treatment room. It’s probably 2-feet long and 5-inches wide. Not only is it gorgeous in appearance, it’s energy is amazing and incredibly effective!

    • You guys just taught me something about selenite! (I had actually had a very joyful amazing meditation session right before this sleeplessness hit. Maybe the meditation was like selenite??) Thank you both for coming by this blog. 🙂

    • lol yeah but it is NOT good for me in my pillowcase, i was wondering what the HECK was going on, ah well it is back where it normally ‘sleeps’ and I have been able to go back to ‘normal’ sleep for me, or as normal as it gets.

      It’s fun to use when young children are watching, I make it flash colors for them. hehe

  6. Kathy, like Helen, I’ll be smiling the next time my own night time movies begin to play. And humming Harvest Moon as I quietly welcome the amazing gift of awareness and/or creativity that so often seems to come in these quiet and special moments. Thank you, lovely lady.

    • Colleen, wishing you…I think…amazing gifts of awareness and creativity. But not wishing you sleepless nights. Not unless they are deeply appreciated & welcomed. If so…sleepless nights, welcome!

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