A Dog's Eye: Space Invaders

It's funny you know. I didn't plan to write at all about the only thing people want to talk about. (Even if the main topic is not COVID-19, the subtext often is.) I guess the rebel in me, the one that might be condemning me to obscurity as a writer, just wanted to swim upstream.

I must be getting old and soft as I've just given in and jumped on the bandwagon. Partly, it's common sense. If I want to be in the world, why pretend that what the world cares about is a figment of overactive imagination? It's not. It would be stupid to think so. It's real and although I don't feel anxious, I acknowledge that many do. I wouldn't be a very good human if I didn't care about that. 

The other reason I'm writing about it is because it is having an impact on me. How could it not? Who hasn't been touched by what's happening? On Friday afternoon, we closed to students and will be switching to online delivery even though we, neither teachers nor students, are ready for that. As a result of the scramble to get ready, I've been employing a lot of mental energy to think of, process and implement various solutions to the myriad of problems which keep popping up. I'm not on my Pat Malone. Many people are facing exactly the same issues, or a host of different complications. Personally and professionally, COVID19's footprint is significant.

I don't recall ever spending so much time thinking about work as I have this week. I'm very good at switching off. I don't bring work home because I don't have to. I don't feel any obligation to complete work outside of the hours I'm paid for, nor to invest time and energy in solving work problems when I'm not at work. Of course, it happens sometimes, but as a rule, when I leave my office I leave my office behind.

This week has been different. I'm acutely aware I'm operating at a much higher level than normal. Those spaces reserved for non work related thinking are being invaded. Last night, I went to bed early and slept soundly. I told my wife, my brain was exhausted, but I was exaggerating...a little. If I was operating under my own strength, I wouldn't be able to maintain this intensity. However, my God is my strength and my song, and he gives me a fresh start each day. This morning I woke up good to go. Thankfully, I have two days at home before resuming the battle.

My prayer for everyone is that we become stronger through this trial. That we care more, love more and give more. That we value things we have taken for granted, and that we figure out what really matters and live out that belief instead of just paying lip service to it.

Lie down in peace #CTST

Over the years, at different stages, during the various seasons of life, I have had many sleepless nights. However, the 'many' pales in comparison with the majority in which I have slept soundly. Even in the midst of some emotional trauma (separation and divorce being one of, if not the worst), I have been blessed with sleep.

Sleep is a gift.

Every one knows the importance of sleep and rest, but for many people thorns of anxiety prevent sleep. I know it. I've felt it. When I lie down to sleep, but my mind will not shut down despite the weariness of my body. How do you turn off the mind? How do you shut out the worry? The fear? How do you close the door on anxiety when it feels like an incurable infection?

Three words have been running around in my head for days now. Since I had the noisy church dream through which God gave me a word of encouragement, I have begin to filter out all the voices in my mind. Especially those which cause me to doubt and to worry unnecessarily. There is only one voice I need to listen to...the voice of Truth.

What are these three words? Let it go.

I'm reminded of a line in a Creed song. "The sun shines and I can't avoid the light. I think I'm holding on to life too tight."* Sonny Sandoval from POD sings, "I think the hardest part of holding on, is letting it go."* This is a great paradox.

I sleep in peace. If I can let go of anxiety or at least not hold on too tightly to what I have, I believe I can walk in peace as well. I thank God for the gift of sleep.

*Goodbye for now - POD
*Weathered - Creed

Celebrate the small things: waking up

Every night when most people go to sleep, they expect to wake up the next morning. This pattern, and the use of X number of hours to rest and recharge our bodies, is something that most of us take for granted. The average person, getting an average amount of sleep, will spend roughly 25 years of their life, tucked in bed, basically unconscious.

Last night, I did not sleep well. I eventually crashed around 1am while watching an episode of Supernatural, but woke up several times through the course of the dark hours. Each time I fell asleep, I dreamed. I had three dreams, and all of them were bad. Nightmares. Allow me to briefly recount my disturbing nocturnal imaginings.

1. I was at a family function to celebrate the first birthday of the most recent addition. The child was hideous, but everyone cooed over it. I saw another child, a toddler, and recognized him as my son, who is now 20 years old. The child, my son, and I began to play funny face games with each other, but I knew he did not recognize me, so I had to run away as my tears began to fall.

2. I was in a field which had recently been harvested of its crops. I had purchased a roasted corn cob, and was eating it when I began to feel unwell. As I stumbled down the field toward the fence at the roadside, I noticed the adjacent field was scorched. I fell to the ground, and saw a number of half eaten corn cobs, and some other rotten vegetables. Picking up one of the half eaten cobs made me vomit continually.

3. I was taking my dad to a doctor's appointment at the hospital. On the way, I met a Thai lady whose name I could not remember although her face was familiar. She was beautiful and spoke sweetly to me. She disappeared, and my father and I got lost trying to find the doctor's room. We ended up outside, and as we continued to walk, he became breathless and weak. I helped him along the street, hoping to find the doctor, but he said he could not go on and he collapsed on the grass beside the road.

I believe these dreams are all significant. They speak to things going on in my life, and reflect my subconscious mind fretting and despairing even as I try to put on a brave face and soldier on in my waking hours. I know exactly what these dreams mean. I'm very glad I woke up.

The reality of my life is not as extreme as these dreams and for that I am thankful, but if my sleep life is to frequently feature such bad dreams, I would rather stay awake as long as I can.

When have you had a bad dream, and been really happy to wake up?

Photo sources

photobucket.com

drippic.com

normalbreathing.com

The Art of Rest

Must have been the sun, or perhaps the emotional intensity of the occasion. Or it could have been the large striker who elbowed me in the chest and left me wondering whether I had suffered my third occurrence of rib breakage. More than likely it was a combination of all three that left me feeling very washed out. Considering the lack of sleep I subsequently got on Saturday following an early morning return from the footy, it was unsurprising that I needed a 'chill out and do nothing' Sunday afternoon.

Clearly my self discipline is failing - in a number of areas - but I could not deny myself an afternoon on the couch watching Star Trek, and later listening to heavy metal band, The Ghost Inside. I did nothing but rest. Good on me.