I was dozing deliriously. Am still barely post dozing, post PM nap drool. Disoriented. Warm head. Cool A/C. Blackout curtains. I turn over. The baby is cocooned. Kate is gone. The dog is gone. I press indigo on my watch. 6:01 PM. I’ve been asleep asunder atrip to planet sleepy sleep for a solid hour. Maybe more.
Houston, prepare for reentry.
Then I realize something and it feels like being struck by lightning while swimming, blasting me up and off my own horse of habit and patterned thinking. The g force of earth.
For the last 12 months, when Kate and the baby have been in bed napping, or in bed in the morning sleeping, I’ve been up and at em, busy writing, lifting, swimming, cycling, running, teaching yoga, sipping coffee. I’ve been going going going.
Plagued by busy.
And the penalty, the wages of these sins, has been when it’s 7pm and the baby is crawling crawling crawling like she invented hand knee hand knee hand knee, I’m horizontal on the couch, counting down the minutes until final lights out and I can close my eyes and rocket blast off to zzzzzz.
The realization is that I’ve traded sleep for stuff. Lately, I’ve been IV-attached to caffeine. Dependent in order to jet pack through the mid-afternoon slump.
While pancaked on the bed a few minutes ago, this perspective felt like a world class epiphany. Now I’m not sure what it is. You know the way the details of dreams fade upon waking up. In the haze of sleep, I thought I struck my ax of awareness on a psychedelic revelation. Something like the law of karma. I’ve been so tired because I’ve been so violently 100MPH. So simple. So collosal. Said from a different angle: the baby is always happy and smiling and baba clap clap, because she’s always rested.
Karma kicks. Take more naps.