A Passion for Sleep

The page is blank.  The page is white.  Undriven snow.  Potential.

There are so many seeds to plant.  So much fruit to harvest.  It is already grown and ripened on the vine and tree branch.  It is not wasted, even the fruit that falls to the ground.  Perhaps a rodent or insect is fed.  Or the tree is fertilized so that it may produce fruit again.  In any case, energy is conserved.  Nature makes no waste.

Creating the conditions conducive to life.  That's the focus.

We've got to return to the land, the soil.  We will return, inevitably.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  We're all recycled material, one hundred percent.

Just add water.

I take a fair amount of pills these days.  Some are just 25 milligrams of "substance" that adjusts my brain chemistry such that I am afforded a more "mundane" existence.  It takes away the hyper-highs and the super-lows so I can have a normalized mood.  But some days, things just don't make sense.

I was riding "high" the last couple weeks, such that my wife and I were on edge about me potentially going manic.  But it was controlled, and still subtle.  Then my sleeping habits started to change, and I had trouble getting to sleep and staying asleep.  This was a red flag.  I ended up taking a sleep aid a couple nights in a row to try and get back on track.  It worked, and my mood was still good.

But now, I'm not only "back to earth," I'm kinda down in the dumps.  The luster is gone.  I'm not optimistic about most everything in life-- I'm cautious, reserved.  It's like night and day.  I want to sleep all the time now.  It's only been a couple days, but the transition is major.  I'm in a down cycle now, and everything takes effort again.  My thinking is slowed and laborious.  Decisions take more time to make.  I feel like I'm swimming against the flow.

I try to tell myself that this too shall pass.  It's of little comfort from my seat here, adrift without direction.  Where does the passion go?  And why does it flee?