Sleepless

60: (November 2025)

It has begun to be the new norm for me to wake up in the middle of the night—1, 2, or 3 a.m.—and not be able to go back to sleep for several hours. I usually get out of bed fairly early every morning, so that means I’m often short on sleep. I know I am not alone in this, as my husband and many of my friends also experience intermittent nights of tossing and turning.

Perhaps this sleeplessness is due to the state of our country and the world. Perhaps it’s due to an increase in bodily discomforts as we age. Or worrying about various family or friends who may be going through hard times; there is bound to be a close person or two in one’s life at any point in time who is facing a challenge, as happens when one lives long enough. People may have work or financial worries, as well. It can all add up to a moment in the night when eyes pop open, and the next hour or more is spent trying to close them again.

I’ve been trying various techniques for going back to sleep. Deep breathing. Praying. Making a mental list of all the things I am grateful for. Thinking of pleasant, relaxing things, such as walking through my garden. I try not to look at my phone, but I inevitably give in to scrolling through social media or reading the news when all else fails. Sometimes my eyes get tired, and I can eventually nod off.

I don’t remember experiencing these big stretches of sleepless nights, with the exception of going through menopause. Maybe this too shall pass, and I’ll eventually start having more restful nights. In the meantime, if you, too, wake in the night, know that you are not alone. There can be comfort in knowing that there are many other people looking out into the same dark night: a shared humanity. The act of worrying bonds us together, heart to heart—all losing sleep over something or someone we care about!

But morning always comes, and with that first light, the promise kept of a brand new day.

40: (November 2005)

Imagine if you had outlived all of your family, all of your lifelong companions; you are the only one left. Alone. Such is the fate of our duck. She was one of seven adorable, yellow fluff balls, some ten years ago. Over the course of time, all but two died. The remaining two were in their outdoor pen, the ‘summer palace,’ as we called it, when I came upon a sad sight one early morning: one of them had been killed, undoubtedly by a fox.

So that left Quacker. All alone. I took comfort in thinking that old age was likely to claim her soon, so she would not have to live long in loneliness. But that was about 18 months ago. I did not want to risk leaving her outside, now that the local foxes had made their move, so she moved into the ‘winter palace’ the day her companion died.

The winter palace consists of an entire stall in our barn. Pretty posh for a lone duck. Our horse occupies the stall next to hers, but it is never entirely clear to me whether there is any meaningful communication between them. I find solace in the fact that she has numerous barn companions in the night, when the rat brigade emerges to rummage around for spilled duck grain. I try to imagine that they have become great friends. I know it’s lame, but the image helps me deal with the knowledge that I have lost the battle against the rat population and that Quacker might have some pals.

Then this summer a friend visited from out of town. When she saw Quacker, she suggested that we put a mirror in her stall so that she might think her reflection was another duck. I picked up a rectangular mirror bordered with peeling, painted roses at the recycling center the next day and propped it up against the barn wall. For a solid week, Quacker stood at the far end of the stall quacking at the mirror. I guess it was the courtship stage. Perhaps she liked what she saw, or maybe she was happy that the ‘other duck’ let her have her say—all the time. I will never know the intricacies of her mind, but at the end of that week, she nestled up against the mirror night and day.

Is Quacker less alone now? She seems to think so. Yet isn’t she still in solitude? Whose reality contains more truth? Isn’t being alone the grand illusion that we all wrestle with, on one level or another, for most of our lives? We feel alone, and so enter into relationships, which in part serve as mirrors for who we are. It is all about perception in the end. Sometimes it takes just a little shift in how we see things to be content with the realization that we are alone, in this together. We are with others, yet ultimately solitary, both droplet and wave in an ocean of humanity.

60-40:

Day or night, we are always essentially connected with all of humanity, as well as with this whole, messy, throbbing world. As we begin to enter into the darkest time of the year, may we be especially kind to the earth and to each other, and ever grateful for our blessings.