You'd THINK...

... that after fifteen years or so of meditation practice, I'd be a little more skilled when it comes to quieting down the mind when I felt the need.  But no.  I've been going on a bit about the difficulty I've had these past few days in getting to sleep, largely because my brain is brimming over with THOUGHTS!  I have so many things I want to WRITE: a book of essays from the past few years that I have been planning to put together, to see how it looks and reads; another book that would be an exchange of letters with my old school friend, who contacted me via the Internet after nearly sixty years; a magazine article about sitting on a jury, from the point of view of a meditation practitioner...  

Once awake, as it was at three o'clock this morning, my mind engages, I begin to make mental notes, to write whole sentences in the air...  And then I can't get back to sleep.  It's at such moments that I try, without notable success, to put into practice the wise advice I once got from Thanissaro Bhikkhu about those moments when the mind wants to write instead of meditating: say "Not Now," and trust that the thought will be retained, somewhere down in the subconscious mind, ready to be accessed at a later time.  

Didn't work.  Not last night.  I lay there, thinking that I'd never get to sleep.  Was it too late for half an Ambien?  A quarter?

And then I must in fact have fallen asleep.  I found myself in a big hotel, at a conference of what I presumed to be the ManKind Project--the men's organization in which I have been active for some years.  We had not, apparently, had the foresight to book rooms, because everyone was looking around for a place to sleep in the vast lobbies.  Every place I found proved either impracticable or previously taken.  I realized that I had left behind the CPAP machine that helps me breathe at night--and silences my otherwise dreadful snore!   Which left me reluctant to choose a place too close to other men, whom I would certainly disturb.  I found and abandoned several places--couches, a spot on the carpet here or there--and in desperation tried to make myself a bed out of rather rickety end tables with pads placed on top.  It collapsed with my weight.

Then, finally, I happened upon a lovely, quiet corner where there was... a bed!  A bit chintzy, maybe, but ideal for my purpose.  What a find!  I started laying out my few belongings, and was just ready to lie down and get some sleep when the door opened and in walked a Japanese woman with two friends.  They were taken aback, to say the least, to find me there.  "Is this your room?" I asked.  "Yes, yes, my room," the woman said.  We began to exchange profuse apologies, she out of excess politeness, I because I had invaded her room.  She was very nice, very understanding--and very attractive--and I confess it even crossed my mind to ask if I could share her bed--but the presence of her friends made the suggestion inappropriate.   (Thogh I'm curious to note, post facto, that it was only "the presence of her friends"!)

I left, exhausted.  I was by now at the end of my tether, so tired that I could barely think.  At last, miraculously, I stumbled on a plush couch, empty and unoccupied.  Thankfully, I fell down on it, and was about to go to sleep... when I woke up.

I woke up in our little bedroom in the Laguna Beach cottage, exhausted from my night's "sleep," and not a little surprised that I had slept at all.  Today, I plan to do some WRITING!   Have a good week.