Night is mine?

Me, night owl? Oh, most definitely yes … but there’s much more to it than that.

“Night is mine”(?) seems more fitting. I really like the night. And in so many ways. Maybe just now finally realizing how much – and some fair bit of the why.

Always have? At least back to my teen years – possibly even (much?) earlier.

I like the quiet, the stillness, the darkness.

The hazy barely distinguishable dream-like scene – no lights at all, except slight bit of a partial moon behind thick fog and overcast … just barely able to make out shapes and forms – highly indistinct, quite ambiguous, black-and-white, appearing flat and two-dimensional. Or even more – well within a dark cool cave, turn out all the lights, and – total darkness – and just be with it – eyes closed or open – matters not – and quite indistinguishable. And to “see” that nothing – or really, rather not see at all – something altogether different than merely “not seeing”.

The cool, still, almost numbness – one can quite relax into it and feel nothing – gloriously devoid of sensation – nothing to distract, save possibly one’s thoughts – and nothing more.

I’d go out into the night, sit in cool, dark place, and just sit and take it in, eyes closed, quiet, and take in the nothingness … nothing save but what thoughts I might have. And sort of like a meditation, but not, … just sit and be with that, … thinking, … not thinking, … thoughts floating, drifting, imagining. Akin to an out-of-body experience? … but not – there was no sensation of “in”, or body, or any presence or being to have a sensation to be out of.

Night – a time to think, imagine, contemplate, dream, daydream – the quiet, the stillness, without all those distractions. The time I believe I’m very often at my best – most creative, able to think most clearly, broadly, deeply … and no dang wonder – without all those other distractions!

Drive, bicycle, walk … I remember from my earliest driving, I prefer driving at night in the dark – not all that other stuff to see … mostly just lights, reflectors, a lighted instrument panel, and little else to see at all, and a simple uniformity to it – a simple beauty in its starkness and general absence – mostly just clear markers to punctuate it, and nothing else. Bicycle ride – I’d go for rides – middle of the night – wee hours of the morning long before dawn – quite similar – and even more quiet – often as if having a city or more to oneself – highly quiet and still, almost as if it had been deserted or abandoned or hadn’t been occupied at all. Or likewise a walk at night in the quiet stillness … sometimes too, would pick a cool spot to just sit down and be very quiet and still in it.

Punctuated with – and sometimes punctuated with things one would never ever hear in the day. In the middle of a city and … inside, windows closed, still quiet of the night, and hear the screech of a red-tailed hawk cruising overhead, or the bay fog sounders from well over two miles away. Or bicycle by the urban lake – and at long past 2:00 A.M., hear the birds chirping up a storm – as now they can hear each other for many miles; at most other times, the relentless drone of traffic noise, could never hear the birds – nor they themselves across more than the smallest of distances.

A time to think, to dream, to imagine, to listen, watch, or read; to focus; to relaxedly attach/detach/”float”.

I remember too, many of the best conversations and such I’ve ever had – night – typically wee hours of the morning.

Dawn, dusk, sunrise, sunset … those very earliest traces of light of the coming dawn … almost never something I like seeing – as I find, to me, it signals the end of night. The end of my time, peace, quiet, solitude, and stillness, the beginnings of a stark reminder of what’s to come – noise, brightness, motion, things I effectively “have” to do or am pretty much expected to do, and the end of all that lovely peace and quiet; a return to all the hustle and bustle, distractions, interruptions, and expectations and demands.

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