And Yet Another Sleepless Night

Since the events of early November, 1984, I have had a terribly difficult time sleeping. To paraphrase, I suppose, 'Sleep no more! Rajiv doth murder sleep.'*

So many nights I lie awake thinking. For me to get up and do anything would wake up my husband and one of us should sleep so I just think and very quietly jap naam.

Last night I thought about those 20 years of my (self-imposed) exile. Until autumn of 1986, I was simply too disoriented to - anything. I played with little Hope and regained my physical strength after a fashion, but spiritually I was empty. Even Amrit turned sour. Eventually I chopped off my kesh and walked out of my family and my life.

I spent the next years of my life trying to regain my head. 'Guru Ji, give it back! I need it!'

'No. You gave it to me. It's not yours any more.'

Time after time a hundred times, I begged for it back and always the answer was, 'No.'

How wise and merciful is our Guru Ji! Only that refusal made possible my homecoming.

I have learned that Amrit is, after all, sweet, and my head is better off in hands other than my own.

Just some thoughts on another sleepless night.

*From Macbeth by William Shakespeare:
Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murder sleep! - the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day 's life, sore labor 's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature 's second course, Chief nourisher in life 's feast."
Macbeth 2:2. {Macbeth').

Painting: The Blessed Encounter by Simmal Tree

Used with permission

--
Some see things as they are and ask, Why?
I dream things that never were and ask, Why not?
Bobby Kennedy