The Restless Realm Revisited

Last night, I found myself awake in the middle of the night. I often wake for short periods, but usually drift back to sleep without much trouble. But then there are the times, like last night, when I’m caught in a realm of restlessness and unease. I find this state of sleeplessness very unpleasant. I don’t have physical pain, but I’m unquiet in body and mind. I switch from side to back, then back to side, then side to side. Nothing feels quite right. Awake against my will in the middle of the night.

I can’t help looking at the clock. It’s a little before one a.m. and my mind is full of this unpleasant energy. Like an impatient animal in a cage, I pace back and forth in my mind. No place to rest. I just want to fall back into sleep, but I’m deeply unsettled. Someone has done something to me, I just can’t figure out who it is or what they have done. I feel very righteous and set upon by others.

I have been here often enough that I recognize this place. I am in the restless realm. One of the ‘tells’ is that I find myself repeatedly imagining conversations with others. In these conversations, I look to find the exact right words that will lead to my complete vindication. My imaginary opponents will realize the error their ways and finally see the truth of my position. Within this land of blame, the only way out is to locate the problem and then find the solution. My mind flits from problem to problem with no resolution.

I know this is often a difficult state to emerge from. It is very compelling and feeds on itself. Each thought leads to the next in a perfectly solipsistic world—a world that has impeccable internal logic that sustains its existence. I know the thoughts of escape themselves are part of the very problem they appear to be trying to solve.

I turn my attention to my body and breath. I know I am caught and if I can just turn my attention to something else, I can escape. I manage a few conscious breaths, then find myself back in the maze of thought and emotion. I try repeating the name of the Bodhisattva of compassion with little success. Sometimes these tools work. But now, though I do my best, after only a short time, I’m back to the worrying.

Nearly an hour has already gone by. I feel no closer to getting back to sleep than when I woke. The night is passing and I’m not sleeping. I’ll be tired tomorrow. I know I am in this realm, but I can’t find a way out.

Having run out of options, I finally turn toward the possibility of just being where I am. This always sounds logical and easy when I read it in a book, but given the strength of my dislike for this state, practicing it is quite a challenge. The question my Zen teacher gave me so many years ago floats into my awareness: “What is there here you have never noticed before?” So, in the middle of my dislike and discomfort, I try to notice the shape and texture of this place. What are the edges? What’s the worst part of being here?

I also remember another Zen teacher’s training phrase: “This is how people sometimes feel.” I’m slightly comforted to remember that this difficult place of sleeplessness is one of the places human beings go. It’s not just me. There are countless others who, at this very moment, may be in this same realm.

Nearly two thirty now. It’s still not pleasant, but since all attempts at escape have been thwarted, I use my great Zen powers to stay where I am. I have a slight memory of something easing and feeling a glimmer of hope.

I look at the clock again. It’s still dark, but it’s five o’clock. Where did the time go? I must have found my way out without knowing it. I say a quick prayer of thanks and head for the bathroom.