3 a.m. Ritual

Most of my time “drawing” is at 3am while curled up in bed.

The army of experiences show up to demand my attention. Some fuss and wriggle, asking for snacks and beg to look on my phone. Others go through maddening lists about the dumb things I may have ever said. Frightened ones grab my limbs to remind me that torture exists!Expert distractors pull up one by one, and I meet them with the practice of acceptance. They curl up beside me.

In the quiet, the buried ones, in their coffins of pain, float up to the surface. They claw and scream, frantic to be alone again. Meeting the heart’s warmth and the validation of presence, they show stories and shed tears of loneliness, rejection, anguish and grief. They melt into the embrace of me.

Inspiration emerges in the wide open and pushes me toward a vision. The entirety of my being delights in the experience of wholeness. The ideas eagerly await, they vibrate and flurry until the ritual of pencil meeting paper can set them free.

Then the alarm goes off and it’s time for making lunch boxes and driving to carpool lines. Coffee required.