2am

When the world falls alseep, why am I still sitting here expecting confetti to burst up over my computer screen? Why do I check my silent cell phone? If I've been caught up in a tornado all night, is this just me suffering from the shock of the end of the wind? Or maybe it's just pure insomnia, or abuse of caffiene. Nevertheless, here I sit, watching night breathe on. Love songs play from YouTube, with no meaning other than the soft tune they put into the room.

As I stare at green digital numbers, I can feel time dripping down on me, and I start to feel layers disappear. Tonight is not just tonight - it's every night I've been awake in the middle of the morning, wondering if I'm about to fall out, or if I'll see the sunrise this time. Everytime I've been worried, or blissful, overly contemplative or scared. Any time I have held this vigil, 2am on Fort Washington Avenue. I start to realize I'm staring at the same pencil-smudged plaster and paint I stared at years ago, and signed my name and pledges of love. Written like prisioners' wall carvings to prove that I was once there, in a different form. Of all the things that have changed, I still find myself in the same room, awake, absorbing night's gravity.

And then when the sunrises the purity of the dawn will shine off of urban windows and in faint ways around red and brown bricks. And I will feel every morning I've ever lived, the cold ones and the warm ones. I will feel the simultanious dread and wonder that I'm alive again and there is another day to live where there will be life on earth. Dawn is the best time to determine your character, as light baptizes you. There's a certain signifigance of seeing the first moments of morning - there's a reason you're catching that moment; it doesn't tend to be coincidental, and even if you think so, I suggest you think twice.

Solstice

Yes, we celebrated the solstice last night. We all sat together talking about our days, and then talking about what has happened to us in the last year, and what we were thinking of right now. We discussed the fact that it was the longest night of the year, that the sky was dark for the most time out of any other time in the year. That after this turning point, winter would begin, and the process of the days getting longer would begin. We went to our altar where we had candles and incense, and we lit and burned them. We turned out all the lights and sat together and prayed. It was silent, and dark. All you saw was the two little flames on the altar quivering. We passed around the singing bowl, tapped it so you heard a bell, that repeated steadily like a heartbeat. 

When this moment was over, we got up and began to talk. We talked about the elements, fire, water, earth and air, and how they made up everything in life. I began to drum, softly and consistently, I drummed for a long time. Then my father had his turn drumming to fill the air with wonderfulness. We waved the incense around and then took deep, calming breaths. At midnight we all came together and I drummed as long and as fast as I could, keeping the energy rising, and then it fell again and we sat on the floor, looking at the candles, still burning. I prayed to The Earth and Sky and Elements and Stars, and I was sitting on my living room floor, watching the flame...