Sleep Is Good.
I finally slept through the night again. I'd been waking throughout the night, startling myself out of sleep, and then waking up real good at 4 AM, muscles tight and breathing constricted, only getting back to sleep an hour or so later. It has something to do with the hurricane energy. Katrina didn't send her full force quite this far north, but she spiraled up one hand to send rain and wind. Even mild drizzle sent by a violent storm is alarming.
I treaded through the last two days like a zombie, eyes red, emotions grouchy, digestion broken. Last night, tired of exhaustion, I meditated before bed, switched sides of the bed, and treated tsubos for insomnia. I'm happy to report that the regimen worked; I woke up refreshed and ate three breakfasts.
Which brings me to the Wednesday Writing Assignment. Has a force of nature affected you? Or are you like the postal service, unaffacted by rain, sleet, snow, and hail? Tell us about a time you felt the force of nature, and how you returned yourself to civilized existence.
posted by kStyle @ 9:30 AM
4 Comments:
Tsubos are shiatsu (acupressure) points. The center of the bottom of your heel is a good one. Try massaging it next time you can't sleep.
I'm the opposite, happier on sunny/warm days.
me too, Emma.
btw, are you familiar with the cookbook Laurel's Kitchen? I think you would like.
Here's a very specific recent instance of being affected by a force of nature...
Charlie and I recently drove from the Ann Arbor area down to Santa Fe, camped at Bandelier, camped at Mesa Verde, swung through Arches Park, and visited/camped at the north and south rim of the Grand Canyon.
Once you get to the mid-south and then the south-west, your visibility while traveling is much bigger that I'm used to. The first thing we noticed was that every driving day of the trip we were always headed into a big storm. We got very good at amateur meteorology through our observation of distant storm clouds that eventual became overhead storm clouds. This was an interesting view of the world and a beginning of the connection to forces of nature.
At the first to national park stops, we were visiting ancestral puebloan dwellings. It was neat to see for all sorts of reasons, but the only part specific to forces of nature was probably a quiet sense of awe at the huge amount of forest fire damaged area. There's somewhat of an impressively quiet violence to this method of earthly renewal.
From there we went on to Arches National Park, which is basically a huge collection of giant rocks doing things rocks have no business doing. Here we had plenty of moments (pardon my speaking for Charlie, he may refute my impression at a later date) of surprise at the twisted things the earth can do to itself. It was beautiful and amazing and on what we thought at the time was such a large scale.
Then we got to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, and we learned what large scale really meant. I had heard many times before that pictures just can't do it justice, and that's really true. Wow. Earth. It's hard not to feel an affection from being up along the rim of the canyon, even if it's not quite so easy to define what it makes you feel. You just sort of look out over, or down into, or to the left, or right, trying to comprehend where people fit in with something like this.
That leads us to the real story.
Our first day at the Grand Canyon was at the north rim. After stopping at the visitor's center and lodge area to get our bearings (and a first dose of awe) we drove around to the furthest point on that side of the park with the goal of having a picnic lunch. We came to the spot and took our food stuffs out to a great rock point and took a seat on the very edge to enjoy our lunch while watching a distant storm. It was a truly serene experience to be hanging out and relaxing at the edge of such a marvelous sight.
After a while of watching the distant storm get a little closer, I felt something odd in my hair which I figured was a bug flying by or something to that effect. A few minutes after that Charlie felt something and turned to me to ask, "What was that?" I felt it too, again, and when I looked over at him I noticed his hair was standing up, charged with static electricity.
So there we were, sitting on the edge of the world, about to participate in one small act of the force of nature. The mood, rather suddenly, became much less relaxing although still equally awe inspiring I would say. We made a mad dash for the car.
The Epilogue to this story is that we ended up OK but, as we learned the next day doing some research at a cafe, came about as close to being struck by lightening as you can without it actually happening. We were seriously shaken up as we drove away from the picnic site, and things got a bit weirder because shortly after that it started to hail until the road and the ground was covered in white slush. This was Arizona in August, we had just had a possibly very near death experience, and then it was like there was snow on the ground.
There are some pictures from our trip here and in particular here's one of the view from where this happened.
Ben, your story is terrifying and awesome in the original sense of the words. Wow.
Bandelier is neat, isn't it? I'd like to go back to the SW sometime when I have time and money to spend. I want to explore more of it.
I know what you mean about the wide-open views. When I returned to New England after a year in NM, I felt claustrophobic, choked by trees.
Gorgeous photos.
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