"And all you have to do to transform your hell into a paradise is to turn your fall into a voluntary act." Joseph Campbell

And then will come the morning. It always does. Not a pretend morning, those come plenty as well. Those mere wanna-be's, shameless con-artists half-filling your consciousness with fake light, those heart-of-darkness-mornings when you wake with eyes full of tears, when you wake to a wish to just sleep, sleep and keep on sleeping. No. A real morning. How shocking is a real morning after a real bout of the real night.

It was a long night. Yet not nearly as drawn-out as it might have been. I know that the reason for that is the pact I made with the night-time and with suffering long ago. When the nights do come, as they do, as they will, I offer them no war, I greet them with an understanding of non-resistance. And they in turn burn in me and as me with a fast powerful transforming flame. Everything in life has its place and reason. When it's time to grieve then who are you to argue. Resistance is not only futile, it is ignorant. So when the demons come, why not face them head on with no fear. No. I'll go further than that- why not dance with them! Their bared-up teeth to you can either be a terrifying growl or a grin.

A well-groomed girl wearing a red silk dress trying out all the porches in the slums for size and deciding to take a nap on the rat-filled street in the end. Sad? No- she enjoyed the experience. Her suitor for the night, finally frustrated by her friendly, sardonic, easy-going, happy, sad, approachable, unapproachable, funny, obstinate behavior, tearing up the roses that he bought her and sprinkling the torn-up petals and thorns on her smiling tear-filled face on the pavement. Ridiculously beautiful- at least thats how she saw it.

The truth is never ugly. Feeling buried under the earth of sadness will unavoidably lead one back up to the stars and the sun and the beauty and the joy. And from my experience- it is perfectly alright when offered no resistance. There is the right time and a reason for everything. For grieving, for coming out of grievance, for the night and for the morning.

Sunlight creeping in through the dusty old granny-curtains of my rented room in down-town Phnom Penh, with roses and the words "Love forever" printed on them. I stretch my whole body like a cat, and for a moment have the strange feeling that I actually am a cat, purring to the pleasure of the wonderful warm rays of sun on my naked body and to the thought of a whole new exciting day in front of me with nothing to do but run around looking for adventure. Lying there under the sun and feeling it shaking up my heart slowly, surely, savoring each waking shiver of a newly strung chord. It is the stretch of a good rest. No- it wasn't a bad dream. It was merely the night.