WHEN I WAS YOUNG, I mastered the art of sleeping anywhere, anytime. I once took a 50-hour bus ride across Canada and slept so much that the other passengers cheered when I finally woke up and got off the bus. In my late 30s, while living and working at a retreat center, something shifted dramatically — sleep became elusive.  My mind often felt bright and brittle as I lay down to rest.  It may have been influenced by the intensity of communal living, being face to face with the many ways people and emotions affected me, or living in an atmosphere of wakefulness from both retreatants and the staff serving them.

Thus began many years of practicing with sleepless nights. Because my life was very busy at the time, I was plagued by the thought, “I have to sleep.” As many of you know, this is one of the most charged thoughts one can have, leading to tossing and turning and anything but rest.

I tried many techniques. Unfortunately, the effort only made my mind brighter. One weekend, while teaching a retreat and knowing I needed to preserve my energy, I practiced by relaxing into a stable mind. There was a sinking quality to it, like floating in a cozy, comfortable bubble where thoughts didn’t ripple very far. I didn’t sleep much that night, yet I woke feeling rested. This showed me something important: sleep itself wasn’t the issue. The real practice was learning to be okay with not sleeping. Years later, Mingyur Rinpoche echoed this understanding when he said to me, “Just spend seven hours in bed. It doesn’t matter whether you sleep or not.”

Over time, my relationship to nights changed. Rather than trying to sleep, I began exploring how to simply be present in bed, being at ease with sleep or no sleep. At times, I use practices that help regulate my system: open awareness and the breath, where there is breathing in naturally, relaxing and letting go with the out-breath, and a moment of letting everything be in the space between breaths.  Sometimes I gently scan downwards through the body. Other times, I rest awareness on the place where my feet touch, or with the pleasant sensations of contact with the bed or pillow. One of the most supportive practices has been imagining myself held in a womb of unconditional love and simply resting there.

I also learned that if my mind became overly caught in thinking, it was often more supportive to sit up and practice. This brought more energy to meet the experience and, at times of emotional turbulence, allowed space for feelings to simply be.  This is something that was harder during the busyness of the day.

The most important shift has been in my intention: practicing in order to be, rather than practicing in order to sleep. That change in relationship has been transformative. These days, I often sleep well, and now when I don’t, it is no longer the worry it once was.

My husband, Edwin, has experience with sleep that offers a beautiful complement to this journey.

He rarely has trouble falling asleep. In fact, he is often snoring before I even get into bed. When he gets into bed, he brings awareness to mind and body and simply rests with whatever is there. As his mind settles and he connects with physical sensations, he often takes a deep breath, sighs, and lets go. Within minutes, sleep naturally follows. As Mingyur Rinpoche says, “Let the mind and body rest together, and don’t care about sleep.” This approach works for him most nights.

On occasion, sleep doesn’t come so easily. Sometimes the body is restless and alive with tingling, agitated energy. When this happens, Edwin brings awareness directly to the sensations, allowing them to unfold like a waterfall of movement. Often, as the energy is met with awareness, it transforms, releases, and sleep follows — though sometimes it takes a while.

There have also been times when life’s concerns have entered the night. During a period when Edwin was serving as executive director of Tergar, financial uncertainty and the long wait for Mingyur Rinpoche’s return from retreat led him to wake in the early hours with a bright, worried mind. In those moments, rather than lying awake and struggling, he learned it was far more helpful to get up and sit. After 30 or 40 minutes of simply watching the mind settle on the cushion, he could return to bed and fall asleep again.

Together, these experiences point to a simple, profound orientation: let go and be. And when the mind or body is too restless, take the experience to the cushion and allow it to become support for awareness.

Whether sleep comes or not, the invitation remains the same: to rest in awareness and to meet the night with kindness and openness. Each night becomes its own journey.

January 2026