I've been clinically diagnosed with a chronic illness from which there is no cure. It's called Restless Brain Syndrome. Each night when I lay down to go to sleep, my mind leaps to attention, racing around the room for hours. I've tried counting sheep. Believe me, it doesn't work.

I can't really blame the mind, though. After a full day of doing, and behaving, and coming, and going...this is the only time the mind has for itself alone. And if you let it go on for a while, it starts to ease. Instead of a frenzied seizure about the head, it eventually settles into a gentle hum. They say the universe can be heard this way. Underneath the expanse of life, there's a low level murmur, a steady vibration. The sound of being.

The good nights are when I don't fight my mind. The gentle hum fades into the background. Silence takes no effort.

The bad nights happen when this little person insists on being an adult. Remember when you were young and your parents would laugh at your childhood problems. “Just wait until you get to be our age, then you'll know what real problems are.” Yeah, well, my parents were never beat up by Todd Napoli every time they rode their bike past his house.

When I was 5 or 6 years old, I spent most of my time alone. We weren't a large family, and rarely saw our aunts, uncles, and cousins. My brother was 4 years older, usually hiding in his room reading books about astronomy and physics (he ended up in finance, if you believe it). My mother and father didn't socialize much. Only the neighbors across the street were friends. They were socially inept, and so was I.

My best friend was a creek that traveled through the back yard, separating our house from the families behind us, and led to a small group of trees nearby. Back then I thought it was a giant forest. In truth, it was only a few acres wide. I spent all day at the creek. I'd ride my bike into the woods, play in the water, push rocks around, drag branches through the mud, and get filthy. Time after time, my mom would ground me. “Don't go down to the creek” she’d yell, probably freaked that I'd get abducted back there. But I had no fear. To me, the creek side was the safest place in the world.

These few acres of land are now a small park. I drive past it every day on my way home from work. One day I'll stop. I'm not sure what I'd do. As a child I could play there all day long. But now?

Sometimes it’s good to revisit the past. Not to relive moments that could never be brought back, or to dwell on hurtful memories best left alone. I like to reconnect myself with the foundation of who I am. “Remember me,” asks the light inside? “I’ve been here all along.” My time alone taught me self-reliance. I cultivated an inner strength; a knowledge that deep down I was always OK.

At night, I rest my head upon my pillow. Ah, finally a chance to be alone with my thoughts. And when my thoughts get tired, the silence embraces me.

Before I fall asleep, I fall awake.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dl6Heb_7_B8