I slept badly last night because the switch for the reading light in my hotel room was broken and I could not turn off the light. What had made it possible to read - now made it impossible to sleep.
I tossed and turned through the night, finally calling time on the effort to sleep in the early morning and sat up to read. Now I wanted the light again . . . how ironic.
As I turned to re-arrange my pillows I noticed a wire behind the bed-board and traced it to a plug. I unplugged it and magically the reading light finally went out. What a combination of joy (at discovering how to solve my problem) and frustration (that I had not discovered this simple process some 8 hours earlier).
I left the light unplugged and tried to nap, but to no avail and ended up sitting up again, plugging in the light and reading the morning paper. Plugged and unplugged. In the right sequence and at the right time, it was perfect, and in the wrong sequence a catastrophe.
But my learning of the morning was not so much about sequencing and choices, but the difference I felt when I no longer felt forced to have the light, but could chose to have it on or not. That freedom took me from resenting the light to loving it – knowing it was there for me when I needed it, but not having to have it flashing in my face when I needed to sleep.
Tonight I will look forward to my light to read by before sleep, and to “unplugging” it before I sleep, and then to reconnecting in the morning to read once more.
Feeling relaxed about the freedom I now have, I realize that sometimes when there isn’t a switch, instead we have to plug in and unplug to find the balance of what we want and need.
And that takes time to learn sometimes. . .
