I’m an Action Figure!
Circumdiem; or, "About One Day"
The Online Etymology Dictionary explains how the term "circadian" was "coined 1959 by German-born biologist Franz Halberg, from Latin circa "about" (alternative form of circum "round about;" see circum-) + diem, accusative singular of dies "day" (from PIE root *dyeu-"to shine"). The original use is in circadian rhythm." (source)
Think of the circadian rhythm as a pre-installed, ready-made clock for every living creature, found in that part of the brain that controls pretty much everything we can't control: body temperature, fluids, hormone production, organ function. Interestingly, that part of the brain is connected to the eye, the sensor that detects light. Our chemistry changes when it gets dark or light, which means artificial light at night does not help the clock. Our circadian rhythm also changes with the seasons, which may explain why we "slow down" and are inclined to stay under the covers just a little bit longer. Studies show that strength and pain tolerance is highest in the afternoon, which is ideal for mid-day PT.
Marcus Aurelius did not have the science but in a note to himself about staying in bed he wrote, "we have to sleep sometime . . . but nature set a limit on that--as it did on eating and drinking. And you're over the limit. You've had more than enough of that. But not of working. There you're still below your quota." (Meditations, 5.1)
We are made to work. Rest cannot be fully understood apart from work so when one no longers gives attention to the circadian rhythm, to "the beat of our own drum", we do more harm than good: resting when we should be working or working when we should be resting. Awake when we should be sleeping, missing a meal when we should be eating, etc. Our bodies are designed to tell what to do and when to do it--we are too distracted to listen and so make life harder for ourselves and wear out.
Popular posts from this blog
I’ll Be Gnome For Christmas
The Island-Fish
“O ye passengers, whom may God preserve! come up quickly in to the ship, hasten to embark, and leave your merchandise, and flee with your lives, and save yourselves from destruction; for this apparent island, upon which ye are, is not really an island, but it is a great fish that hath become stationary in the midst of the sea, and the sand hath accumulated upon it, so that it hath become like an island, and trees have grown upon it since times of old; and when ye lighted the fire upon it, the fish felt the heat, and put itself in motion, and now it will descend with you into the sea, and ye will all be drowned: then seek for yourselves escape before destruction, and leave the merchandise.—The passengers, therefore, hearing the words of the master of the ship, hastened to go up into the vessel, leaving the merchandise, and their other goods, and their copper cooking-pots, and their fire-pots; and some reached the ship, and others reached it not. The island had moved, and descended...
“And so, about this tomb of mine . . . “
“VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well— She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What’s done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask “Do I live, am I dead?” Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South He graced his carrion with, God curse the same! Yet still my niche is not so cramped...