March 21st, 2008

Circadian Reading

Though I don’t know too much about the science of it, I put a lot of faith in personal circadian rhythms, the cycles by which an individual organism reacts to light, dark, and other stimulus to determine when and how much we sleep. Obviously, humans are diurnal, and want mainly to be asleep when it’s dark and awake when it’s light, but most believe that there are fairly wide variations in exactly what hours a given human will not only prefer but biologically be more able to be conscious. I have to believe that, otherwise I’m just a giant loser that prefers to be in bed by 10:30, maybe 10. Call me at 6 am, though; then we can chat. But you won’t, because your circadian clock is different than mine, as it is with most people. Ah, the majesty of human difference.

I have been wondering recently if the body *and* the mind have an innate preference for doing *everything* at certain hours. Obviously, we are flexible, can do things on schedules that accommodate our jobs and loved ones and the hours that busses are running, and also maybe there is no ideal hour to reprogramme the heat levels on the microwave (perhaps the ideal is never.) But really, on a lazy weekend day (ie. today) on which I am not expected anywhere and have no particular tasks to do, I find the day orders itself into it’s ideal form, which involves several hours of reading starting just past dawn.

I prefer to read in the morning–I’m better able to focus, to sit still, to immerse myself in the book for longer periods. I don’t of course, usually get three hours in the morning to read, being employed as I am, but I do get 45 minutes or so to read while doing cardio at the gym at dawn, and I really love that, too. And I read on the bus *to* work with much more concentration than on the bus home.

I wonder if there is something in that, some sort of perceptive nozzle that is switched higher in the earlier part of the day than later… I wonder if there is a good time to do everything–I write best in the evenings, I know, and I’m more charming to talk to before 9pm. Perhaps there is a laundry hour, a speechifying hour, a pancake flipping hour. Perhaps there’s some minute of the day when, for the first time in the seven years of our relationship, it would become intuitable to me how, or even why, one would want to alter the heat levels on the microwave.

This is just yammering, of course, since there’s no way I’m going to look beyond the already slightly esoteric Wikipedia article to find out more about this subject. But it is worth, as always, playing to one’s strengths.

Seven drops of blood fall
RR

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So Much Love by Rebecca Rosenblum

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