Can’t sleep. This is becoming a regular occurence, but not an annoying one. I have come to the conclusion that as much as I like – and need – sleep, there is something I like about being downstairs, in the silence, sipping a cup of herbal tea (with honey) and either just being still in a dimly lit room drinking in the noislessness or adding another post to my blog. I suppose it’s the nearest thing I have to a desert, here in bustling Swansea. Encountering the starkness of the night is the city’s equivalent to those barren wastes where Jesus and the saints retreated in order to advance in their walk with God. I need that too. It’s my escape from the insanity of restless busyness which every day threatens to drown me with its endless demands. So I like the night – it’s somewhere to run to and hide. Somewhere to re-charge my batteries and re-connect with God, myself and that silent centre within.