The Passing Hours

"The distance between reality and illusion begins to ripple just a bit, making lies easier to tell, while paradoxically allowing deeper truths to rise to the surface. "

Photo by Dainius N. on Unsplash

In my humble opinion, the best hours of the day are between midnight and 4:30 am. I call them the “Passing hours.” I also concede that I’m probably the only person that calls them that. It sounds romantic, and even a bit mysterious. But it fits.

Sitting on the porch, wearing a thick bathrobe over a t shirt and sweats. A me sized cup of tea in one hand (24oz minimum), cigarette or vape in the other, with nothing but the hushed ambiance of the night as company. I’ve spent many nights like this. Chasing down thought tangents, briefly interrupted by the odd passing car, or a door closing as a 2nd or 3rd shifter returns home or heads out to work for the night. The air just smells cleaner, feels quieter, as if somehow purified by the gentle halos of street lights and traffic lights that continue to signal to no one in particular. All of this gets better if you have rain, snow, or if you’re in a more rural spot where fireflies can keep you company.

Sometimes I wonder what they talk about as they go on about their nightly socializing. I tend to do my best work at night. Less distractions, and more importantly less opportunity for distractions, since most of the world is asleep, or entering a place where any company begins to become more intimate in nature. Whether romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between right?

Even in the times I lived squarely within the hustle of the city, this window of time was more accurate. People left the bars and went home, their mind states in transition just as their clothes would soon be. Snazzy threads and expensive shoes swapped out for fuzzy slippers and sweatpants. You could walk through Boston’s financial district at 3am and find no one but the odd delivery truck dropping off the following mornings newspapers or pallets of office supplies. A strange thing when you’re surrounded by the great and windowed monoliths of polished concrete that pack that part of the city.

The nature of conversation changes, as if beneath the moon things become more real. The distance between reality and illusion begins to ripple just a bit, making lies easier to tell, while paradoxically allowing deeper truths to rise to the surface. In my life, these were the hours when I had the conversations that revealed who my ride or die friends were. The ones who would stand next to you when the time came to rebuild after the castle had finally finished burning to the ground. How many times we would see someone’s truest nature and intention, gathered in someone’s living room, bedroom, or backyard campfire.

I am my most focused at night. Always have been. My ritual has only gotten more refined as I’ve grown older. Writing this piece at 1:20 AM, I sit with a tobacco and oud lit, a cup of water, thermos of chai, a protein shake, peppermint tea, green tea, and a Chillstep or Melodic dubstep mix streaming as I go. Just enough distractions to help me focus, a contradiction that the ADHDers among us would appreciate I’m sure. Sometimes I’ll get up and go for a walk. 15-20 minutes, nothing crazy to just enjoy the stillness outside.

The sun and I don’t get along, we respect each other enough to tolerate the necessary trespassing that occurs for daily life. But we try to be respectful. As a child we had a better relationship, It used to love seeing me play with my friends at school, or running around futilely trying to vent the abundance of energy that raged nearly uncontrolled from a younger body.

It was during the teenage years things changed though. Night was when our DnD campaigns went full bore, when we’d play the backyard games in one of our friends backyard. Engage in harmless hi-jinx and just be free for a time away from the normal daytime constraints that becoming an adult necessitated. The moon became a much more accommodating friend then, never passing judgment, always keeping a watchful eye over us. Just enough light to guide us. Just enough presence to remind us we weren’t alone.

How about you? Are you one of those sun loving types? Perhaps an “Edgewalker” most active at dawn and dusk?

Or are you like me, sitting out on your porch, watching the world go by beneath the stars. Wondering where the fireflies go when it rains.

-KC