Most nights, I don't sleep eight hours. I'm lucky if I get six. What usually happens is I wake up about 5 or so, and just lie in bed, half asleep. It is the one part of the day where I can truly just be. The dawning light and the silence (save the chirping of the birds) does something good to me.
I go into this place of comfort, peace. I'm just there, not searching, not seeking, not longing, not wanting. I am open. Now, let me make clear--I am human. Blessedly so. And the searching, the seeking, the longing, the wanting do come. I allow them to do as they wish. The comfort, the peace, the state of...bliss...always return. It's a gauzy, warm reverie. It is the warm, sensous embrace of some invisible force, as I described earlier today.
I usually lie in bed, eyes closed, drifting in and out, a smile on my face.
I am just there.
Then I get up and write.