Only by the night

In recent times I haven't been much of a night person. I've grown fond of early mornings and early nights. My favorite time of the day is as the sun is coming up. I was lucky to have a lot of those this past summer. I used to like the night. I think that's because I drank at night and stayed up late being drunk and writing crazy ramblings. It seems that I don't need the alcohol to do that anymore. I've find that even though I don't stay up as late as I used to I still look back on events in my life and remember in what phase the lunar cycle was. Also, I have made some of the most important decisions and come up with the most profound ideas at night. I am always moving when outside at night. It's hard for me to sit still no matter which celestial beings are present in the sky. But there is nothing like being outside on a clear night. If it's breezy it's even better. Tonight was a great example of my night thinking. I rode my bike all over town, like I used to in my poorer college days (a very romantic time, I'll tell you about it sometime). I just rode. This town is not a great place to just ride around. Everything is somewhat of a hill and there are cars everywhere, but I make it work. I rode so that I forced myself to ride up the biggest hill in town and stayed in the highest gear I could. I made it hurt a lot and was sucking wind, a little. Amazing. Full moon, tons of stars, cold and breezy. I started out with two long sleeve shirts, a vest and gloves. By the time I got back I had on only my tshirt and rolled down my socks. I wanted to feel the night and lets the thoughts get out of me. I spoke to the air while catching my breath. I was reminded of all the time throughout my life where I have done this. Spoken to the night. By vocalizing to the dark I have found out a lot of things about myself. Confirmed beliefs, made more questions than answers, arguments, affirmations, laughs. I did this as a young kid in the summer chasing fireflies. I've done it drunk in the middle of winter as a highschooler in the blinding snow. I've done it as a lonesome college student with too much homework taking a break to hit every dumpster in town. I can only do it alone. Seeing people's lights on at midnight, 2am, wondering what is going on. Hearing crashes in alleys or hearing elk bugle close by, watching cats run under street lamps. There's nothing like it. Being out on a weekend in town, or any night in the woods. It's some of the most fun I've ever had. Melancholy fun. An odd concept. I suppose it's me letting things go, in, clarifying, understanding, coming to terms with. And when I get back to where it is I sleep, it all is the same, but I feel a little newer, a little more enlightened. Ready to sleep as the sweat dries and makes me shiver (never have enough money to keep the heat on too high). I'm pretty sure I haven't explained a thing. I don't think I can. Only I understand what happens on these nights, and even then I'm not sure. I'm just glad they happen.