You chase sleep long enough, soon everything takes on the quality of dreams. It becomes hard to differentiate between thought and act, conversations blur and blend. The restless state of a busy mind that will not slow down, that blunt dull feel of waking death that soon tinges everything around. The fear of that unyielding insomnia arises when sleep becomes hard to capture, anxiety spinning its own web in my worried mind. Waking, the worry begins again. Such a lot of hubbub in pursuit of a simple dream.
A combination of too much caffeine and the change in the weather kept me up a few extra hours this morning. After a handful of hours asleep, I am up again. Finished one project, working up the spine to start the next one, that sense of purposelessness vivid and obtuse. I know I will sleep well upon my next pass. I know my moods and rictus, the wrenches I toss in the cogs and gears just to make sure I am paying attention. I adjust my rituals, add a couple new habits, and everything will seem to work fine again. When creating meaning, one has to rely on the strength of the weakness of the mind.
It is how belief begins. Someone shows you the holy sign, they show you the secret handshake, and the game is afoot. The kata you practice aren't combat-- they are the motions that will become combat when your body forgets that you once did not know them. The candles you light are not the magic or the prayer-- they are the spells you cast by understanding the meaning of these tiny fires. Do something long enough, you will wear a hole through the experience itself. That moment opens, and all things are with-in your grasp. Your dreams are only in the calling.
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