A vexing marker of midlife transition is the sleepless night, when the heat rises, the mind races, and the body feels like a betrayer to the deep rest you crave the most.
Did you know these waking hours have a name and a purpose?
These are called the Ambrosial Hours, as in Ambrosia or the Time of Nectar. They occur between 3:00 and 6:00 a.m., just before the golden light of dawn. Many cultures and traditions revere this pre-dawn liminal space as sacred, and it is thought to be the holiest time in the 24-hour cycle of the day.
This is when you are closest to awareness of your divinity before your brain is fully online with logic and reason that squelches mystery. In this sacred space, do not reach for your phone. Do not throw your sleepless despair into the darkness. Instead, turn into the wisdom that awaits you there.
Close your eyes and look inward. Listen to your heart. Breathe. Ask the wisdom within for guidance and confirmation. Ask the holiest and deepest questions about your life, and then listen. Many times, you may only hear silence echoing back to you, or the nagging voices of fear and doubt. Persist with patient listening, because the questions that arise at this time are incredible guides to where you are and where you long to have permission to go.
What is allowed to stay, today?
What needs to be left behind?
What is my purpose, today?
How can I best serve with my one, unique life?
Ivy | Noir Pixel Studio | New York
There is no one on this earth without a holy and divinely granted purpose. There is a deeper and more meaningful truth that runs a thread through your life, and it is calling to you all of the time. It is in the Ambrosial Hours that you craft and co-create the next version of yourself in the precious days you have left.
Your spirit has met a body, not by chance, but by choice. The Ambrosial Hours is the time to listen for what is calling your name. Sometimes, it comes in the whisper of a falling feather. Other times, as a booming in the darkness as the earth quakes in desire for you to step out boldly.
These hours can feel, at times, like something is dying. Yes, my darling, let that thing die. It is not you, it is what has grown too heavy now to be carried anymore. Let it down. Shake it off. Shutter to your bones until it loosens its grip on you. These hours before the light are made for this sacred death.
Take note of the fallow garden, the falling leaves, the discarded skin of the lizard, and the shriveled chrysalis of the butterfly. Change comes in the seasons. This season of shedding is here for you, too.
The next time they come to visit, relax into the bosom of the Ambrosial Hours. Allow the earth to cradle you into her rhythm. Allow the divine to open the top of your head and pour in the purpose of your existence.
And at the crack of first light, the path will rise to meet you, and the day will dawn anew, just like you.