I've been staying up late. Not for any real purpose, just wandering around the house, doing mindless computer work, doing nothing. I feel guilty about it. There is so little daylight right now it seems a shame to waste it and then burn lights during the night. It isn't insomnia, it’s a quest for quiet.

My mind has been unraveled lately. So much has happened in the last few months and at the same time I feel like I've been running in place. When I am giving readings or teaching I feel at total peace, but the rest of the day I'm (mildly) anxious – like my skin is just a bit too tight. Then I stay up all night and around one or two o'clock I start to calm.

The neighborhood is asleep. At this moment the closest active mind is on the second floor of the house cattycorner to mine, just at the edge of my senses. It feels like the grown son of the widower who owns the house. He's trying to sleep, I think he just got some water and is now back in bed. Everyone else within easy reach is asleep - their thought patterns, deep and slow, don't disturb me the way a waking mind can.

It's 3:30, I'm off to bed. I'll read a bit, meditate a bit, enjoying the quiet, and then I'll drift off too. For a few short hours, maybe just minutes, the street will slumber, hushed by the fallen snow.