October 03, 2002

Day is Dying in the West

I'm sorry. The prospect of a blank sheet of digital paper before me this morning is not the usual thrill and promise. You see, I don't seem to be able to focus my eyes on the screen and my fingers feel like anesthetized sausage links falling randomly on the keys. I think the world is trying to tell me something, and I haven't been listening.

The dog got up this morning to greet us, and of course to woof down his food. But he has gone back to bed, curled up in a heat-conserving black ball on his soft cushion over in the darkest corner of the room. He gets it. The world has told him the same thing it is telling me, but he listens, and obeys.

The days are getting shorter. I have the sense of being in Luke Skywalker's trash compacter, with morning and evening moving inexorably closer from the right and from the left, in a benign but disorienting squeeze.

Whether we like it or not, our rhythms deep down are still under the jurisdiction of the dreaded Forces of Nature. We hold them at bay by attenuating an artificial sunlight at both ends of the day as the Earth tilts away from the Light. But yea, Our long day of busy-ness remains unchanged, holding no regard for the creeping darkness that erodes the length of light minute by minute as we near the shortest, darkest day of all in late December.

A pox on your darkness! And your cold. And your rain. (Uh, your drought sort of gets our attention). Makes no difference to us! The seasons are for those failed souls who haven't received the gift of Climate Control. Let them shiver and shrivel and die in the dark!

Our lights come on at 4:00 every morning. And we are trying to remain active and effectively functional until at least 9:00 every evening, as usual. But as the sun goes down earlier each day, my internal clocks make me think that we're not doing a very wise job in cheating Nature's cycles. So, at 8:00 now, our bodies persist in some feeble semblance of motion while our minds are drifting toward our soft cushion, over in the darkest corner of the room where all we want to do is curl up, drift away, and wait until the dog comes to tell us that he is awake, the true day has begun, and he has already plugged in the coffee.



Posted by fred1st at October 3, 2002 06:09 AM
Comments

I have to get up at 4??

Posted by: susanna at October 3, 2002 08:38 AM

No, no. The wimmin have to get up at three and make the scratch biscuits.

Posted by: bigwig at October 3, 2002 10:53 PM

I get up at 4 every day also, and I'm finding it harder and harder to stay up past 10pm; not because I'm any more tired than usual, but because the darkness that comes so early now makes me think I should be tired earlier.

Posted by: michele at October 4, 2002 04:50 AM

Four o'clock in the morning. Why? Why must you get up so early? I think the dog is right. What would your body's natural wake time be if it could get up when it wanted? (I like this web log. I will be coming back. Come join me: http://vonfeldt.blogspot.com/)

Posted by: Rick at October 6, 2002 11:50 PM

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