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Late Night Ramblings

It’s past midnight.  I almost never stay up this late anymore (and it’s not even that late).  Not since I got married.  But my Hubby is out of town, so I don’t want to go to bed.  In my teen years, I always stayed up late, like I was incapable of going to bed at a decent time.  It took me a long time to figure out why that was, even though I was plenty tired and there wasn’t really anything to keep me up.  I finally discovered that I didn’t like to end my day.  Because in high school and then in college, that meant that I had to deal with the next day.  I’m not sure why that was such a hard thing for me, but it was.  It’s not like my days were bad.  I liked my life.  I liked seminary, and my school friends and theatre.  In college I liked some of my classes and I enjoyed my days for the most part.  But I hated ending them.  Maybe that had something to do with having to deal with responsibility the next day, or just knowing that once I went to sleep, then I would have to try to wake up, and I was never good at that.  I’m still not.  But I don’t mind ending my days anymore, except days like this when I end them alone.  That’s only part of it though, I think that when I find myself alone, I tend to get sucked into the solitude.  I find myself in that…climate…I guess you could call it, and I don’t want to leave it.  Not that I necessarily like the silence around me but that it helps me to ponder.  I don’t ponder very much anymore, which makes me sad.  It’s actually quite a relief to sit down and write my thoughts out.  I used to do this constantly, in emails, in my journal, in my school folders, on scrap paper.

So, here I sit, in my solitude, and it’s like I can taste the atmosphere around me.  I can let it seep into my skin and into my being and allow it to melt and mix with my own feelings.  It’s nice to feel as though, not only do I occupy the space around me, but that I am a part of it.  I think that so much of myself I pour into my children, and it is a simplified version of myself.  Sometimes I forget to think complex thoughts, and I certainly forget to encourage complex thought.  When my hubby asks me to think through a decision with him, I have to really pull myself into gear so that I can do it.  I miss having profound thoughts.  I miss being satisfied with my written words.  I notice that most of my writing consists of very short sentences.  Probably another side affect of speaking to toddlers all day.  Everything is condensed and simplified, the least complicated answer I can give.

Not that this is anyones fault but my own.  Perhaps if I allowed myself more solitude, a couple minutes of meditation each day, I wouldn’t get so lost in my simplified world.

I recently reread some letters from my parents.  They were from a youth conference exercise.  My father mentioned meditation in his, perhaps I should pull it out again and try to take that advice.  Perhaps I should start writing in my journal again.  Ever since I started my family blog, I haven’t really touched my journal.  My family blog is a very complete journal of my life and more importantly my girls lives.  But I think that since I’m writing for an audience, I don’t use the same voice that I use in my journal.  I’m not as honest, as contemplative, as ponderful 🙂  Some people have the ability to work out their feelings in their heads.  I’m not one of those people.  The best way for me to work something out is for me to put it on paper (or on the screen).  Maybe I’ll start a separate private blog, or just a file on my computer for journaling my ponderings.  Because I really don’t think there are many of you who will have read this entire entry.  This does not surprise or offend me.  This was for me, this was me pondering because it’s good for me, it’s good to have a voice apart from the one that I use with my children.  It’s good for me to use and hear that voice.

It’s now past 1 in the morning.  So I will go to bed.

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