The sounds of high winds and heavy rains confirmed that we were experiencing the effects of a powerful squall. Darkness, though, prevented us from seeing tree trunks bend and limbs twist in response. Lacking the ability to see what was happening in the forest around us, we retreated into what I have decided to call the Entertainment Sector, AKA the TV room. There, we continued our tradition of watching the Shetland series on BritBox. Later, throughout the night, thunder and lightning and the sound of howling winds reminded me of the storm assailing the forest. I pictured frightened animals cowering beneath any shelter they could find. I felt undeservedly safe and dry, with just a sheet over me to provide just enough warmth to balance the coolness of the air conditioning. When I got up this morning around 5, evidence of last night’s storm—distant thunder and flashes of blue light—suggested the event was not yet finished. And when I began typing a while ago, the electricity flickered just long enough to plunge the house into darkness and to shut down my computer. Despite the on-again, off-again flicker of the lamp in my study, my computer has remained operational ever since I rebooted it. Now, around 6:30, I can see pieces of the dimly-lit sky through the trees outside my window. The tree branches are almost still. The wind is no longer howling. A notice from the property owners’ association a short while ago advised caution in venturing out, saying tree limbs and electric power lines may be blocking roadways. A message posted by an acquaintance several hours ago on Facebook called attention to power outages and hazardous road conditions throughout the area. When the light of day is sufficient, I will try to determine whether there is any significant damage to the forest surrounding the house. What I will do if I find evidence of damage is questionable. What will the animals—those that cowered in fear overnight—do if they encounter damage to their forest homes? They do not have the option of calling Animal Services for assistance. No matter. The forest will heal.
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Sleep may not cure anxiety or depression but it can mask or muffle those maladies for awhile. Consciousness, which amplifies the effects of emotional trauma, provides collection points for stress. And it offers pathways for stress to maneuver its way throughout the body, spilling out of its home in the brain to the extremities and the body’s core. To that extent, consciousness should be considered a facilitator for stress and its brethren. Sleep, on the other hand, should be considered either a passive weapon against stress or an addictive, narcotic-like, analgesic. Addiction to sleep, then, may be a symptom of emotional trauma. If that is true, then what is insomnia—a sign of emotional resilience? There may be something wrong with the logic employed in the classification of sleep as symptomatic of trauma. I ache for more sleep; I may nap before long, if for no other reason than to clear my mind of shattered light bulbs and smoldering evidence that arson is akin to fascination with solar flares.
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There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the passion of life.
~ Federico Fellini ~
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Muscles are strengthened through use. I wonder—seriously—whether electrical stimulation of the nerves, which in turn can cause muscles to contract and relax, might accomplish the same thing. I do not think for a moment that this thought is unique to me; I suspect it has been proposed, tested, and debunked thousands of times. But what if…? To test the idea, I would be more than willing to allow myself to be attached to a TENS (transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation) device configured to cause muscles in my arms, legs, abdomen, back, chest, etc. to contract and relax repeatedly in my sleep. I can only imagine waking up one day, after a 60-day experiment with a TENS device, to see bulging arm muscles, six-pack abs, and legs as sturdy as the trunk of a massive mesquite tree. Dreams. Fantasies. Visions. No; delusions.
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Does passion ebb with age, or does it simply collect itself into an ever-more-compact sphere, whose gravitational pull is exponentially greater than the sun?
