Insurmountable

It was 4AM. Something had woken me. Further sleep eluded me.

Outside, Australian Magpies sang their angular night song. Those black and white birds; those day and night birds: they’ll be tired in the morning, I thought.

My mind was restless. My mind moved across the surface of the earth looking for trouble. My mind swooped down on innocent victims: how easy other people’s lives are, I thought; how simple their problems.

Outside, the wind sighed in agreement. Eee-sss-eee, it said.

My problems are real problems, I thought; my problems are not trivial; my problems are insurmountable.

For some time, an hour perhaps, I tossed and turned and thought about my insurmountable problems. The more I thought about my problems the more restless I became.

Outside, night was turning to day. A kookaburra - that early riser - interrupted my cycle of thoughts with his unsympathetic laugh.

A new thought entered my mind: insurmountable problems start wars.

I am at war, I realised; I am at war with the problems I can’t make peace with.

Outside, wind moved through trees making music learned from sea and sand. And, as I listened, my problems dissolved into the music and floated away.

I slept.