While the rest of us sleep

So it's 3.20am, and I'm still awake.  Probably due to that late night double-tall cappuccino I had, fearing that I wouldn't get through all of my work tonight.  This week has been a tough one for many students.  Mid-terms are here, meaning many of my peers are still at the library, studying for their tests; although, most of the Canterbury House is asleep - at least, I think they are.  The lights are all out.

As I was at the library earlier this evening/morning, I got to thinking about that passage from Matthew that Greg preached on this past Sunday, the one about not worrying about tomorrow.  Frantically making photocopies of essays from out-of-print Prosody books, I wondered, why do we as students, subject ourselves to such, frankly, insane schedules: just to get our work finished on time.  Naturally, there's the argument that "If there were only just more hours in the day, I'd be able to complete all of my work."  Well, yes and no.  We'd probably find something else to occupy our time, instead of spending it in quiet.

Yes, I am a periodic insomniac who goes through spells of sleeping 4-5 hours a night (or less).  In fact, a good night would be when I made it to 6.  Then I spend the rest of my waking hours doing other things; thinking up ideas for poems; brainstorming what to write on this blog; and reading, yes, reading.  But what if we just said, at whatever point, that enough was enough, that the day's work was finished (even though there's still something left to do)?  I'd like to think we'd feel better.  The other day, sitting outside my advisor's office, I was drawn to a print-out she had tacked up to her door.  It's by Roz Chast called "Insomnia Jeopardy."  Thought you all might like to check it out if you're like me and still awake.  In the last column, I'd substitute "Screenplays" for "Poems, Essays, & Stories," but everyone's different.

Each "category" really fascinates me, especially since these are all things I think about when I'm awake; and though I think we sometimes wish that we didn't have so much to do, there's a certain magic that happens when you're awake, doing something, when others sleep.  This though occurred to me earlier this evening as I read some of Rilke's poetry (which I'll save for another posting ^-~ ).  But, if you find yourself still up at this hour and in need of something to do, I'd recommend reading this essay "Seeing in the Dark" by U.Va. Professor of Creative Writing and fellow Episcopalian, Lisa Russ Spaar, published in The New York Times, March 2010.

Stay well all!