There’s a quiet rhythm here. A sacred beat that plays softly beneath the surface of the overnight hours. PRC isn’t just where I work, it’s part of the backdrop of my life. And lately, something’s been blooming in me here, moment by moment, like a flower slowly unfolding under the hush of moonlight.
I show up for overnights, Thursday through Saturday, ten at night till nine in the morning, but Fridays are special. Sometimes I get to come earlier, at five, giving me more time during the early evening hours—to settle in, to connect, to share space and presence, to be part of it all. I’m not just showing up for a job or a shift. There are beings here. No different than me. On the outside we can tell eachother apart, but the on the inside, there's only one of it. The soul, the source, the Atman. And as beings, there are relationships now that softens each time I walk through that door and see faces light up with familiarity, warmth, and joy.
Tonight, Moana played on the screen—the first one. I love that movie. It’s so inspiring. I might never have seen it if not for tonight’s earlier shift. I love it here. The comforting loops of favorite movies, the rituals of snack time around 7:30, the delicate attention to feeding charts, food consistencies, and who can and can’t have what. There’s care in the details—real care. Not just checking boxes, but tuning in to the little knowings, like that Brian loves a little honey poured over fresh apple slices, or that Eric likes his cookies warmed in a small bowl of milk. That kind of tuning in.
Toileting, pajamas, snacks—it’s a flow that could easily become mechanical, but instead, it becomes meditative. A ‘presence’ practice. These small actions lead to small awakenings. Not dramatic or loud, but quiet truths that rise up through service and stillness.
I’m not the same man who first stepped into this house. I’m changing—gently, honestly, in ways that sneak up on me. And I’m starting to see that this place, this rhythm—it’s all part of the unfolding. A night bloom.