The city is silent. Everyone is watching the AFL Finals – but not me, I’m heading off to an Evening with George Smiley.
I love sleep.
I especially love the sleep engendered after a good long walk in a blizzard.
Or the sleep that follows a day of Qi Gong.
And not forgetting the sleep brought on by a long, deep Epsom Salt bath.
The best sleeps are the ones you awaken from in your own good time. You have a sense that your dreams have been deep and fulfilling, your molebody is embraced by and melded into the mattress and duvet, and a soft, cool breeze brushes your exposed snout.
After the best sleeps you want to stay in bed and leap out and live the day in equal measure.
It is just past the equinox and it is time to stop hibernating. I know the spring has come because the sun has reached an angle that casts its rays onto my closed eyelids. I can see it from the inside, so to speak, the orange, and feel the warmth.
I would like to slowly move into the rhythm of spring, feel its contours and the gentle widening of the days. But I am barely hatched from my hibernation and now our clocks leap forward and tomorrow we are to be catapulted into bright evenings. Our bodies, still attuned to the darker months, will be dazzled by these longer days, forget to eat early, wind down and go to bed in time to sleep long and well enough to raise ourselves again an hour earlier than we have become accustomed to.
As the days grow longer I sleep less and less.
I love the darker months we are leaving now. They enclose me, guide me deeper, make a burrow of the world, or at least my world here in the deep south of the southern hemisphere.
I barely know another soul who does not delight in daylight saving. I can hear the jubilation around me as my fellow creatures anticipate evenings basking on terraces, pottering in their gardens, carousing in the streets.
For now my inner moleclock trembles, wonders how best to find its equilibrium.