Is there a more powerful feeling in this life than overwhelming sleepiness when your body aches for sleep, but you fight it, fighting to keep your eyes open and stay awake? We’ve all felt it after a particularly large meal, or during the Sunday morning sermon, or in a boring lecture class (with a boring powerpoint on the screen and the lights turned down low), or at a boring play, concert, or ballet. Your eye lids are heavy and want to swing down and turn off your lights. Sometimes there is no known force of will that can keep your consciousness from slipping off into the dark abyss of sleep. Your body knows you better than you do. There are times when your mind wanders, you start to think of waves lapping on the shore, of a clock’s regular ticking, of sheep jumping over a fence, of a soft wind blowing gently through the trees, of the regular whine of a huge jet engine, and before you know it, you have detached yourself from reality. You can no longer hear the pastor’s voice, you don’t know what song the orchestra is playing, you no longer care what day it is or where you are, you realize you are fishing on some unknown lake and sunlight glints gently off of the waves. You fall asleep, and the transition from awake to asleep has occurred seamlessly, realities intermingle, drift apart, mix, but you are now constructing a different reality, and the body is ignoring what is going on around you. You can try to fight sleepiness by drinking coffee, sitting up straight, focusing on what is being said, but most of that fight is just putting off the inevitable. I don’t think there is a person on earth who hasn’t fallen asleep at the wrong time at some point in their life. I am particularly bad because I like to stay up late, but this has got to change. Falling asleep during the sermon is particularly bad, but I fell asleep at the dentist office the other day while I waited for the dentist to finish some part of the procedure. What can I say, I didn’t get enough sleep the night before and the weather channel was boring that morning. I have fought sleep while listening to conference papers that were a little less than interesting. The thing is that we run from thing to thing like crazy people, but when we stop for two minutes to sit down and listen to some complicated rhetorical argument, the body takes advantage to shut down all systems for a short restorative nap, whether we like it or not. That’s the problem with sleepiness: it isn’t something that one can always control. People are killed, tragically, every day because they have fallen asleep at the wheel of their vehicle. They never intended to do that, kill themselves, but sleepiness is a stealthy adversary, and we are often asleep before we ever realized we were sleepy in the first place. I would like to say that this never happens to me, but it’s happening to me right now, and the only thing that is keeping my eyes open right now is writing this short note on “sleepiness.” If I were to put this down and walk away from the computer, I’m sure I could sleep for a good hour before ever noticing.
Category Archives: floating
On sleepiness
Is there a more powerful feeling in this life than overwhelming sleepiness when your body aches for sleep, but you fight it, fighting to keep your eyes open and stay awake? We’ve all felt it after a particularly large meal, or during the Sunday morning sermon, or in a boring lecture class (with a boring powerpoint on the screen and the lights turned down low), or at a boring play, concert, or ballet. Your eye lids are heavy and want to swing down and turn off your lights. Sometimes there is no known force of will that can keep your consciousness from slipping off into the dark abyss of sleep. Your body knows you better than you do. There are times when your mind wanders, you start to think of waves lapping on the shore, of a clock’s regular ticking, of sheep jumping over a fence, of a soft wind blowing gently through the trees, of the regular whine of a huge jet engine, and before you know it, you have detached yourself from reality. You can no longer hear the pastor’s voice, you don’t know what song the orchestra is playing, you no longer care what day it is or where you are, you realize you are fishing on some unknown lake and sunlight glints gently off of the waves. You fall asleep, and the transition from awake to asleep has occurred seamlessly, realities intermingle, drift apart, mix, but you are now constructing a different reality, and the body is ignoring what is going on around you. You can try to fight sleepiness by drinking coffee, sitting up straight, focusing on what is being said, but most of that fight is just putting off the inevitable. I don’t think there is a person on earth who hasn’t fallen asleep at the wrong time at some point in their life. I am particularly bad because I like to stay up late, but this has got to change. Falling asleep during the sermon is particularly bad, but I fell asleep at the dentist office the other day while I waited for the dentist to finish some part of the procedure. What can I say, I didn’t get enough sleep the night before and the weather channel was boring that morning. I have fought sleep while listening to conference papers that were a little less than interesting. The thing is that we run from thing to thing like crazy people, but when we stop for two minutes to sit down and listen to some complicated rhetorical argument, the body takes advantage to shut down all systems for a short restorative nap, whether we like it or not. That’s the problem with sleepiness: it isn’t something that one can always control. People are killed, tragically, every day because they have fallen asleep at the wheel of their vehicle. They never intended to do that, kill themselves, but sleepiness is a stealthy adversary, and we are often asleep before we ever realized we were sleepy in the first place. I would like to say that this never happens to me, but it’s happening to me right now, and the only thing that is keeping my eyes open right now is writing this short note on “sleepiness.” If I were to put this down and walk away from the computer, I’m sure I could sleep for a good hour before ever noticing.
On napping
There are times in one’s life when the only answer to any given set of problems is to just sleep on it, turn off all the gadgets, stop worrying about email, close the door, put up your feet, and close your eyes–even if it’s the middle of the day. Napping is nature’s way of taking you out of the equation for a little while so you can gain a bit of perspective on whatever is bothering you. In our rat race world, napping while the fires burn is not considered the adult answer to getting things done. I am of the opinion, however, that mental fatigue is one of our greatest enemies to clear thinking and coherent problem solving. When you are tired, nothing makes sense, everything lies in ruins, chaos swirls around you, your head hurts, and you feel like throwing the computer out the window. You couldn’t write a coherent readable sentence if your life depended on it. When you feel sleepy and fatigued, when your eyes are heavy and close on their own, when you cannot hold up your head anymore, give yourself a break. You are no good to either yourself or anyone around you. Anything you do in this condition will probably just be something that you have to redo tomorrow. Perhaps it is time for a nap. I’ve always been able to put my feet up, tilt my head back, close my eyes, and drift off–at a moments notice. Now I also know that many people hate napping because they feel infinitely worse after sleeping twenty minutes, but that strange feeling of lethargy and disorientation doesn’t hang on very long, and in a couple of minutes I’m up ant at ’em again, refreshed and ready to rejoin the fray. A twenty minute nap is balm for the parched soul. There is something about unchaining the mind for a moment, letting go, and descending into the maelstrom of the unconscious mind. The problem with fatigue is that no amount of coffee or other stimulant can re-order a disorderly and tired mind. The mind may be awake when pumped up on coffee, but that doesn’t mean the the higher functions of problem solving or creativity are functioning at all. You might be able to stay awake, but should you really be at the wheel of a huge vehicle hurtling down the road at seventy miles an hour? Taking a nap is like rebooting the computer when nothing will work. The major problem with napping is that it seems sloppy by modern office standards and practices. Any given business does not what their employees napping on the job–bad for productivity, you understand, or is it? The trouble with sleeping on the job is that it smacks of slacking, lolly-gagging, and goofing off unless it is done with a certain aplomb. One must be organized and not snore. Strategic napping is all about not letting anyone see you nap, get your nap in, wake up, and get your feet back under you before anyone notices you’ve been gone for a few minutes. No more than twenty minutes, no drooling, no snoring, no sleeping in public, no sleeping during meetings, lectures, or sermons. Twenty minutes of shut-eye can rejuvenate even the toughest day. A little cat nap can turn work into pleasure, give you that solution which has been eluding you for days, calm some shattered nerves, realign a warped perspective, brighten a dark countenance. In our work-a-day world, we never rest or sleep enough. In fact, one of the worst habits most of us have is to rob ourselves of necessary rest and sleep, and we do this every day. Well, the next time everything is a mess, and nothing seems to work, close your door, set the alarm on your phone, turn down the lights, put up your feet, and nap.
On a day off
Although most working folks work a lot of days, sometimes having a day off is not an entirely bad thing. I’m not talking about “mental health days”, which I do not recommend if you want to keep that job, but days in which the entire work force is taking off due to holiday or some such similar circumstance. Having a day off is a breath of fresh air. You don’t have to get up early and shave. You can get up late and make coffee, have breakfast, read the paper, take your time, and maybe not shave if you don’t feel like it. In fact, a day off is about not having to do anything you don’t feel like doing. You don’t have to climb into the the hustle and bustle of the mass transit system. You get a break from whatever it is that you do, and you must admit that no matter how much you love your job, sometimes it’s good to have a little break from the routine. You don’t have to be in charge, make decisions, get it done because the office (or whatever) is closed for the day. For a day, time stands still and doesn’t punish you into hitting your marks, sticking to a schedule, making sure that production doesn’t falter. Have a day off is like refilling your tanks–water, gas, air–and starting over. And when your day off falls on a Friday or a Monday your heart just dances with joy. You finally get a chance to break the daily routine and do something different: have a cook out, go to the cabin, fish, ski, have a picnic, visit somebody, go shopping for something other than groceries or underwear. A day off means never having to say you are sorry. Maybe you finally get to try out your new recipe for fish soup? Or you go hiking in the local state park, or maybe you sit by the fire and read a good book as it rains outside. A day off is about the freedom we willingly give up so we can pay our bills, mortgage, car. Perhaps what makes a day off so sweet is that you recuperate the independence that you had as a child to do whatever you want. A day off makes that next Monday morning sweeter still because at least for a moment you were free once again.
On a day off
Although most working folks work a lot of days, sometimes having a day off is not an entirely bad thing. I’m not talking about “mental health days”, which I do not recommend if you want to keep that job, but days in which the entire work force is taking off due to holiday or some such similar circumstance. Having a day off is a breath of fresh air. You don’t have to get up early and shave. You can get up late and make coffee, have breakfast, read the paper, take your time, and maybe not shave if you don’t feel like it. In fact, a day off is about not having to do anything you don’t feel like doing. You don’t have to climb into the the hustle and bustle of the mass transit system. You get a break from whatever it is that you do, and you must admit that no matter how much you love your job, sometimes it’s good to have a little break from the routine. You don’t have to be in charge, make decisions, get it done because the office (or whatever) is closed for the day. For a day, time stands still and doesn’t punish you into hitting your marks, sticking to a schedule, making sure that production doesn’t falter. Have a day off is like refilling your tanks–water, gas, air–and starting over. And when your day off falls on a Friday or a Monday your heart just dances with joy. You finally get a chance to break the daily routine and do something different: have a cook out, go to the cabin, fish, ski, have a picnic, visit somebody, go shopping for something other than groceries or underwear. A day off means never having to say you are sorry. Maybe you finally get to try out your new recipe for fish soup? Or you go hiking in the local state park, or maybe you sit by the fire and read a good book as it rains outside. A day off is about the freedom we willingly give up so we can pay our bills, mortgage, car. Perhaps what makes a day off so sweet is that you recuperate the independence that you had as a child to do whatever you want. A day off makes that next Monday morning sweeter still because at least for a moment you were free once again.