The One That Carries the Quiet of Night

After pitching the tent, the last thing I take out of my pack is the cot. To me, it feels like a small ritual—a way to decide where this day will finally come to rest.

When I lie down on the cot, that slight distance from the ground creates a quiet pause in my conversation with nature.

A BOC cot isn’t merely a place to sleep. It’s a place to receive the depth of the night and to listen to your own breathing. That subtle height between you and the earth becomes a kind of space in consciousness—a shape the quiet can take.

In comfort, we overlook things. In discomfort, we remember them. I learn that kind of remembering in the nights of camping. The flicker of the fire, the sound of the wind, the silence—all of it connects here, on this small bed suspended above the ground.

When morning comes and light begins to seep through the fabric of the tent, the world has not yet fully awakened. As I sit up in the stillness, I realize that the same calm exists within me.

That’s why I bring the cot on every journey. Not for comfort, but to rediscover the outline of who I am.