Whatever may come

Well, another sleepless night.  Another evening alone with nothing but myself and my thoughts.  Strange to say, but I think I enjoy the quiet outside.  There's nothing, not even the sound of cars this early into the morning.  The sky is awash with stars and there's just a faint whisp over Cierro San Luis mountain which looms like a massive black obelisk behind the house.  Its the sort of night one should expect out of October, the night one half-expects to see ghosts out and about, walking the streets. 

I'm a fairly superstitious person.  I can't walk under a ladder or cross paths with a black cat.  For the longest time I couldn't get out on one side of my bed (because of the saying getting up on the wrong side of the bed.)  Apparently I thought the left side of the bed was the bad side.  Now the way my bed is, I get out on the left side and seem to avoid the right.  Strange.  But maybe its just force of habit now.

That said, I do believe in spirits, ghosts whatever you may call them.  There's times I'll get strange feelings, chills etc in a place that's old, or going by a cemetery.  It's not easy to explain, its just a very uneasy feeling.  Only once have I ever felt something malevolent, and that was a trip unto itself.  Something I NEVER wish to experience again. 

I know a lot of people discount ghosts and that sort of thing, but yet these same people don't discount religion.  I never understood people who didn't believe in anything though.  To think that we are born only just to live, die and then rot is a very fatalistic viewpoint.  It sort of begs the question, what is the point of any existence if that's all there is?   Whether you believe in god, goddess, buddha, or whatever, I beleive that there's a certain divine spark in all of us.  It is not simply neurons in the brain that makes us conscious beings, it is a sense of being, a sense of purpose. 

We're only on this planet for a short amount of time, and yes we are all born to ultimately die, but that does not change the fact that we must live.  I struggle all the time with the ultimate conclusion, I am sure all of us do.  I suppose the point of all this is that we all touch the divine in different ways, and I think we should celebrate that fact with each moment we live and breath.

Rain at 3 A.M.

Awoke this morning, the gentle sound of rain pitter patters out my window.
It swishes and sloshes across my roof, down my gutters,
Through the creaking branches and down the leaves.
Little wonder I do have trouble sleeping,
My dreams turbulent roll over me like a drifting sea,
awaking often and half-remembered
unable to return.

I stare blankly at the time,
red digital letters against the black
of this early morning.
I consider where I might go, what I might do
roll over and sigh. 
Why can I not find slumber this night
or any other?

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I suppose this is what happens when waking this  early on.  My posts here have been less frequent, probably because I feel like I am shouting into the darkness and hearing my own echo.  I went to a writers conference recently that said not to do that.

I found some very wonderful insights into my first book.  I realize now that I need professional opinion of an editor who has seen hundreds of books go past their desk.  Its so easy as a writer to say "well this is good and this is good" but a professional editor is really needed. That said, I think I have found myself fed up with writer's conferences. 

It seems so easy to stand in front of a crowd who paid to hear how to become successful.  I couldn't help but wonder if some of the speakers could be published today.  I don't begrudge them their success, but they'd be where I was sitting without the established ties they made 20 years ago when things were a little easier. I wanted to stand and dare them to try.  To use a different name, a different picture and see how far they got. They would have probably glared at me.   Frankly I probably wouldn't mind because then I know I was right.