Late Night

Being a morning person is a really positive thing. You get up early, you start the day fresh, you tackle the challenges ahead of you, you wake with the sun. There are few delirious “I slept half the day away by accident” moments when you’re a morning person. You fall asleep at a reasonable hour, relish in the silence of getting up before the rest of the world.

I’ve always associated being a morning person with being an adult. That to be successful, I had to have the nine to five lifestyle. That I had to be in bed by ten, up by seven, and I’d have coffee, maybe even read the paper. Perhaps the maturest, most organized version of myself will do these things someday. But I don’t quite want to be there yet.

I work best at night, when the world is asleep, and I can convince myself I am the last soul awake. Everything is quiet, still. The stillness is freeing, it’s the inhale, a swell before slumber. When I can’t sleep, I crack my laptop open, plow through an old piece or form something new. I’m sure it’s not better than something written in the day, but in the silence–when the crickets and locusts are the only ones making noise–I find work just flows easier. There is more drama, more resonance.

So here’s to the night owls. Here’s to sleeping in late, staying up until the sunrise. Here’s to the romance of the silence, of the inhale. Here’s to a glass of red wine, the drama of the moonlight shadows.

We are working in the swell before the storm.

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