Clementine just put her sweet white–orange face right onto the heater vent, proving she is Lala’s dog. When Lala was in high school, she’d get up to go to school and then lie down on the bathroom heater vent and go back to sleep.
My whole relationship with sleep has changed since leaving the day job. I still struggle with it, but exponentially less than I did. I’m getting back to the place I think my body likes to be – full of sleep. When I was a kid, I took three-hour naps and slept twelve hours a night. I kept sleeping at night like that right up until I took the 911 job at age 27. Before that, I’d occasionally stayed up late to have sex, to party, to read (only once have I read all night – Housekeeping, Robinson) or to travel, but never for anything else. Not once did I pull an all–nighter studying. My first overnight shift was one of the handful of times I’d ever stayed up all night. I remember looking at 4 am like it had never happened before. I was actually late to an early-morning training shift because I overslept. I’ve never overslept for anything but that, not once. And I was in training with someone who terrified me. The way my heart fell and then thudded back into adrenalized action as I raced to pull on my uniform was actually painful. She never told on me.
I read a post last night by The Pale Rook, a Scottish artist, and she expressed the same feeling I have about loving being something very small in the world. Every time I meditate, I like to think for a second about my relative size in the universe. I live for a flicker of time, not even that. I’m one soul on a planet of three billion that is one planet in one of a hundred billion solar systems in our galaxy that is one galaxy in a hundred billion galaxies. There’s no way to overemphasize how insignificant I am, and I love the feeling.
Today, I have spark. Today, I flare.
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