How cosy can that bed really be? This is the question my internal monologue poses, as I’m bent over 50 minutes past midnight, changing the ties on a swinging hammock chair to lift the chair a couple inches further off the ground. Why am I straining the muscles of my lower back, neck, and shoulders at this time you may well wonder. It’s so that I can recline in it with my feet that little bit higher off the gound. Even now I’m wondering why I left my warm and cozy bed to stoop over adjusting knots and ties.
When I’m finally seated, the creak of the swing a constant companion, slightly lopsided because the ties have been redone in the haphazardness of just waking, by the light of my phone, the faint light of fairy lights that’s batteries need replacing and not much else, my head occasionally bumping into the bar at the top of the a-frame that supports the hammock chair, it strikes me that this could be a metaphor for life.
Something about how, at some point it’s less about how cosy the bed is and more about how loud the internal dialogue is that’s roused you from slumber. More about the burst of hyperactive energy coursing through your body, time becoming a non-factor, that propells you from your bed, with the persistent feeling that downstairs is where you need to be.
This metaphor as I look at it speaks to the comfort zone, and that initial spark that preludes the process of working free from it, much in the same way you might struggle free from a duvet and weighted blanket. The burst of hyperactive energy that sends oxygen to your limbs could be the paradigm shift that convinces you that you want to stretch your comfort zone. Or even, step into the discomfort of something new, like the nip in the air of the temperature dipping at night.
There’s nowhere else to really take this midnight musing as I’ve now lost my train of thought, glad I started capturing it here whilst it was fresh. I might come back to this in the morning, read it over, and think ‘what on earth?? 🤔’. However the part of me that recognises how much closer I am to intuitive connection making when I’m in particular states between wakefulness and slumber, suspects I’ll likely enjoy this impromptu metaphor.
What do you make of it? Does it read as the ramblings of a sleep talker? Is there something to it? I’m curious about your thoughts, you can share them below.
Signing off now, as I consider whether to make my way back to bed or to spend the next couple hours following the white rabbit of my curiosity down the black hole of the internet.
Fine Words Weave
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