Confession time: I’m a night owl.

Those who know me are probably well aware of this fact, of course. I often stay up late, typically because I’m caught up in something pointless. However, once I finally shut off my computer and put all distractions away, I often can’t get to sleep immediately after. There’s something truly lovely to me about the quiet stillness of night. There’s a pleasant sanctity to it, and once all distractions, noises, and glaring, garish lights are set aside, I find myself wanting to savor the stillness a while.

In the night, my mind comes alive. It’s as if the veil between me and the unseen world is suddenly thin, and I’m able to hear unheard whispers that I’d been deaf to during daylight hours. I’m able to feel the feather touch of supernal ideas upon my mind as I put away the hustle and clamor of the day.

There’s some symbol of this in the nature of the night, I think. As the sun sets and its brilliant light wanes, our eyes are opened up to the heavens. You can see into the great expanse of creation beyond this world’s puny sphere, and you can sense some significance beyond whatever society foists upon you.

I feel deep down that excesses of light or noise during these hours are an affront to the sanctity of the night. They are sacrilege of the highest order, a heretical attempt by mankind to blind himself to the grand audience of heaven above and deafen himself to its whispers, preferring instead the endless, pointless race against some made-up standard of self-worth.

Last year, the apartment where I live changed ownership, and they installed these excessively bright LED lights outside. The new exterior lighting is offensive to me on a nearly religious level, as if my very soul reviles against it. I can hardly see the stars or the moon beyond their obnoxious glare, and I feel blind to the loveliness of the world whenever I stand outside after dark.

The night is a time of dreams. As we close our eyes in sleep, visions come, and those visions have no regard for whatever semblance of reason we use to order our lives during the day. It’s a time for the depths of our souls (and occasionally the heavens themselves) to speak to us in terms far removed from whatever fallacies we use to frame our daily walk.

In these hours, truth itself speaks to our minds, heedless of the lies we tell ourselves.

Of course, there is loveliness in the early mornings as the sun rises and the birds sing their welcoming songs. There’s even beauty in the midday when the sun sheds his light upon the world. We need these things, but we also need the night. We need its simple, quiet, starlit purity.

During the night, the noise and worries of the world are put to rest.

During the night, the veil grows thin. Dreams come, and you can literally see the heavens.

During the night, all things feel more real and present. With all distractions put to rest, your heart engages with the universe itself, sharing in a song that has endured since before the foundations of this world were laid.

So I will continue to let my soul sing with the stars.

I so very love the night.

I love to watch the stars up above, winking as if they know some great secret.

I love the moon. Sometimes I tell her how pretty she is.

Most of all, I love the quiet sanctity that presses upon my ears and turns my mind to the great communion of the heavens.

When the sun sets, the world may sleep, but the night itself is very much alive.

And it is glorious!

Do you love the night? Or do you think I’m just crazy? You’d probably be right either way, so let me know in the comments! Also, share this around with all your night owl friends. All proceeds go toward funding a holy crusade against the sacrilege that is garish exterior lighting. Really.