Once again, my love affair with the solitude of early morning darkness promises to be all too brief. Though I awoke at a reasonable hour, showering and shaving interfered with the commencement of the day. The time is now 6:30; what remains of darkness soon will be overtaken by daybreak. I need another hour or two of night, but I will get only an hour until the sun rises. Light will overtake darkness long before “official” sunrise at 7:20 or thereabouts. The little time during which the sun remains hidden is insufficient to allow me to ease into the day the way I would like. Setting my alarm every evening would enable me to capture the morning’s darkness, but the noise would rouse mi novia, possibly interrupting the time she most needs to sleep. Besides, the idea of setting an alarm to return me to my natural rhythm disturbs me. Cursing and complaining will accomplish nothing. I must simply adjust and adapt to whatever is happening to my circadian rhythm. Life does not always cooperate with one’s wishes.


No matter how much I wish to write this morning, it simply is not in me. I want to record my thoughts, but they would require too much explanation; without amplifying them in great depth, people reading them would misinterpret them. My thoughts would be mistaken for madness, whereas in fact they are simply expressions of curiosity. They would be interpreted as expressions of curiosity too easily be read as warnings that I am edging toward a dangerous precipice; which is not the case. Just philosophical inquiries about emptiness. Queries about whether a vacuum really can exist. And, if it can, whether space is “something” or “nothing.” We think we know more than we know. Everything in us and around us is steeped in mystery so deep we cannot hope ever to reach the bottom. Or the top.  There’s a reason I cannot write this morning. Language is inadequate to express emotions and perceptions. And so I will surrender, for now.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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