I’ve been doing this thing for a couple years now where I try to stay as conscious and lucid as possible during the times where my brain begins to blur or when I’m in physical pain or any kind of discomfort.
It started as a revelation in my mid-20s about how I wasn’t taught to listen to my body or any other details about the intricacies of the physical experience. How I realized that I was always questioning myself instead of just listening to what my brain and body were telling me. And how I would always rely on others to tell me what I was experiencing based on their visual perception of me in that specific moment.
But now I listen so closely that sometimes I’ll even try to tune out the rest of the world and my immediate surroundings in order to hear myself better. It’s addicting. This meditation on the self, of the self.
As my mind fades into the dreamscape I’m challenged immensely by trying to balance lucidity with the quickly oncoming thick fog of sleep. I want to know the secrets of the soft, heavy push and pull of recharging my temple but each attempt to fight the fog is an act of hubris.
As I fall asleep I hold on to the love I hunt and gather for. My parents and their hearts and hands that have helped shaped my world since the very beginning. My brothers and sister who I trust entirely and without a second thought. My nephews who make every single day that I take a breath more than worth it. My puppies and how they make me so mad but how none of that matters when I’m scrubbing love into their fur because they’re just so dumb and soft and cute.
Last Christmas I fell asleep for a pretty good chunk of time. I fell asleep on a couch in the living room of my aunt’s house, in the exact spot I’ve been falling asleep in after family functions for like 20 years now. It’s almost always very loud in that spot but once I get comfortable, that’s it—I’m Out.
I didn’t know why that happened until I realized it was because almost every single person I love in the whole world were there and they were happy and healthy and laughing. And that’s what makes me the most calm. When I don’t have to wonder if everyone is okay because they are and they’re right there and mostly unscathed. My eyelids are getting heavy even thinking about everyone getting a safe and sound night of sleep. 💛
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