Wakefield

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  “In some old magazine or newspaper I recollect a story, told as truth, of a man—let us call him Wakefield—who absented himself for a long time from his wife. The fact, thus abstractedly stated, is not very uncommon, nor, without a proper distinction of circumstances, to be condemned either as naughty or nonsensical. Howbeit, this, though far from the most aggravated, is perhaps the strangest instance on record of marital delinquency, and, moreover, as remarkable a freak as may be found in the whole list of human oddities. The wedded couple lived in London. The man, under pretense of going a journey, took lodgings in the next street to his own house, and there, unheard of by his wife or friends and without the shadow of a reason for such self-banishment, dwelt upward of twenty years. During that period he beheld his home every day, and frequently the forlorn Mrs. Wakefield. And after so great a gap in his matrimonial felicity—when his death was reckoned certain, his estate settled...

Behind Those Golden Slumbers

"Come sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace." (Sir Philip Sydney, 1580s)

Eight hours is eight hours, yet why does eight hours of sleep pass at a much different rate than eight hours of work or eight hours of play? How does the time seem to pass at such a different rate?

We don't want to close our eyes, lest we miss a thing; yet, we would die without sleep. Our survival depends on it. At risk of sounding like a "stoner thought" (perhaps "shower thought" would be better said), isn't it interesting that over the course of our lives, such a significant portion is passed while we are unconscious? We close our eyes and wake up having traveled with the orbit of the planet through space.

Today I learned that the Beatle's famous song, "Golden Slumbers" was an adaptation of a song found in a play by Thomas Dekker popular in the early 1600's:

Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles awake you when you rise;
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby,
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

Care is heavy, therefore sleep you,
You are care, and care must keep you;
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby,
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

Thomas Dekker may have borrowed his song or a version of the song from another that was borrowed from other "cradle songs" that go back into the 1500s as far as we are able to tell. 

We need sleep, for in it we are restored, rejuvenated, rested. And many times, it is from sleep our best ideas come. So as much as we don't want to miss a thing, it's always better after a little rest. Just remember to get back up again.

It's from an old movie (a family fav), but I bet you can't watch this clip without yawning: 

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