Between Awake and Asleep

I've noticed a lot of us, myself included, have become increasingly uncomfortable with silence. It's something I've recognized in myself and continue working on. Sometimes it's as simple as resisting the urge to check my email or scroll through social media instead of simply sitting with my own thoughts.

There's always another headline to read, another opinion to consider, another notification begging for our attention. We carry the weight of an endless stream of information with us, often without realizing how little space we've left to just reflect.

I've noticed some of my most honest reflections don't happen while I'm working, driving, or scrolling through the day. They happen when everything else finally quiets down. Sometimes that's just before I fall asleep.

Sleep has always fascinated me.

It's peaceful, but vulnerable. Familiar, yet mysterious. Every one of us experiences it, but none of us completely understand it. It's a place where memories, questions, fears, and hopes seem to mingle in ways that don't always make sense.

That's where my song In My Sleep began.

The song wasn't written to comment on politics, even though the state of society helped inspire it. It was written because I found myself wondering what constant division and constant information might be doing to us. Not to our opinions. To all of us. It started with a simple question.

Are we making enough space?

Space to think.

Space to listen.

Space to change our minds.

Space to become better than we were yesterday.

Those questions don't belong to one political party, one generation, or one moment in history. They belong to all of us.

I think hope comes from believing we can learn, we can grow, and we can become something better than we were yesterday.

There are still things worth putting in the effort for. Relationships. Communities. Kindness. Curiosity. Understanding. Even when the climb feels steep, I believe they're still worth climbing toward.