Sleep is trending right now. I've seen articles all over town about it, especially in magazines we have subscriptions to that I don't read.. The Atlantic, Harpers and the New Yorker. But don't worry when people come up to visit, I fan them out all over the house.
I desperately wish I was an overachiever in the sleep department, by which I mean an underachiever in the department of needing a lot of it. Un-achieving a lot of hours sleeping while achieving a lot during day time hours working. You know what I mean. The high end of the spectrum is reserved for people like Martha Stewart (clocking 4 hours, a fact which everyone in our world is well aware of, but, was also recently mentioned in this months Vanity Fair - one of my prescriptions which I now can read portions of, especially if I'm not sleeping on plane). The low end of the spectrum is for children and dogs. Rock bottom is for species that make cocoons. (Which are also trending right now. Along with tarot, fermentation and the return of scrunchies. And there you have the Saipua trend report; you're welcome.)
I was in California last week, working on some projects. I was traveling alone and had become strung out on the time change and the 4:00 wake up calls for the flower market (New York florists never hit 28th street before 6:00 - and the best, most fashionable of the set never are seen before 8am! If I want to run into my friend Emily I plan to have lunch in the area.) After a week of 5 hours of sleep a night, I started speaking in tongues during important meetings. I was leaving dinner parties before dinner was served. That low grade sleep deprivation headache hit me by Friday; the kind that makes me wish I could unscrew my eyeballs and take a pressure washer to the inside of my skull.
Now I'm back at home on the farm, trying to regain my 8-hour routine. I plan to take naps but then always end up working through the afternoon...too focused on accomplishments. Counting them, stacking them up in my brain. Did I do enough today to feel good, to feel right. If I take a hot bath, a long walk with the dog, or even an hour just to lay down...these things also become categorized as things to get done. Self care? Check!
How do I get to the other side of that? To the place where rest just is. Shaking off my own expectations and judgements, walking away from my tickertape inner monologue, leaving my work persona for a moment. I glance out the window at all the trees blowing in a sudden breeze...who am I?
Oh well, 4o'clock. Time to go tear some shit up on the tractor.