I have been feeling increasingly lethargic in the last few
months. I don’t sleep well, and in the
morning when it is time to get up I feel more tired than I did when I went to
bed. I had been assuming this was due to
a lack of sleep – I have only been getting a few hours a night for many days,
and often crash completely on the weekend, waking up after 10am, still tired.
But today, W. had a different theory. She suggested that I am actually sleeping too
much, not too little, and that I could correct it by getting less sleep instead
of more. As far as the tiredness, she
suggested that it is just because I am over 40 and people over 40 left to their
own devices will be tired all the time, and if I wanted more energy I should
get some exercise.
It sounded sensible, so I decided to combine these two
things. The next day when I woke up at
4:30 or so, instead of struggling to get more desperately needed sleep, I
forced myself to get out of bed, get dressed, and do some power walking.
Perhaps not surprising, this was extremely difficult to
actually do. Bed was warm. Outside was cold. It was pitch black and about 24 degrees
outside. I had to dig my snow clothes
out just to stop myself from freezing.
But once I stepped into the darkness, it was clear that the idea was not
merely sound, but almost transformative.
The night was crystal clear, in the way that only really
cold nights can be. Countless stars
shone down. The night was utterly still
and silent. There are no streetlights
where we live, so the darkness was inky, and starlight the only illumination on
the landscape, which was coated with a thing layer of crystal-like frost.
As I walked down the deserted road, I noticed a deep red
presence in the corner of my vision. It
turned out to be the moon in almost total lunar eclipse, low over the
surrounding hills. It was the color of a
smoldering ember. I hadn’t heard that
there was supposed to be an eclipse this evening – one of the disadvantages of
not engaging in any broadcast news I suppose – and so the eclipse felt
particularly personal, as if it were some kind of portent specially arranged
for morning walk.
I picked up the pace – more to prevent myself from freezing
than for any concerned for more effective cardio – and soon fell into a
rhythm. More than just a rhythm – an
understanding – me, alone with the universe – and the utterly uniqueness of
individual existence. I was reminded of
a line from a poem I wrote long ago:
The universe around me
And yet – you found me
Thinking of that, with the body distracted with its
locomotive task, I was able to finally break into a bubble of emptiness that I
had been seeking. The place of peace.
Sometime later, I found myself walking back into my
driveway. I had been outside for 45
minutes, and even with my gloves, my fingers were completely numb. The traffic was starting to come out, and my
solitude was over. For today at least.
But there are more mornings waiting.
No comments:
Post a Comment