Cleaning the Dirty Mind

Writer Lynne Spreen has a great blog for Boomers called Here’s a quote from her post today which is relevant to all insomniacs, even you young’uns:

… did you know that your brain cleanses itself during certain sleep cycles? Not having a lymphatic system to carry out the trash, our brains shrink during the night, allowing spinal fluid to wash the area and remove the detritus of the day. When we don’t sleep well, this process, one of many, doesn’t run optimally.

Interesting, huh? Having had some trouble keeping my lymph system up to snuff, I know how much better my body feels when it is working productively. What goes for a clean body should work for a clean mind.

But! I’m a bit worried about this “removal of detritus” stuff. I have trouble keeping track of the days as it is. And would a good cleansing remove some of my juicier favorites?

For instance, the UK has a phrase not heard in the US. “Bloody Norah!” seems to be on the swear scale somewhere between, “I’m be damned” and “What the fuck?” I first heard it when a friend in Wales said it (Dave Jackson, come on down!). He was viewing a photo of me after enough weight loss to no longer mistake me for a humpback whale.

“BLOODY NORAH!” he exclaimed. That is about my favorite compliment ever. Certainly my favorite use of a less-than-polite phrase.

I’d sure hate it if a good night sleep resulted in that memory being cleansed away.

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Another brick in the wall

Since my navel is currently free of lint, and I refuse to worry about anything more threatening than killer bees, I’ve been thinking about the afterlife. Keep in mind I don’t actually believe in one that includes clouds, angels and harps. In fact, too much harp music would drive me batty so that depiction of an afterlife strikes me as more hellacious than heavenly.

My idea of the afterlife has to do with Hobbes-Boson particles and universal oneness past our galaxy into the next and the next. And, no, I don’t understand it but am attracted to it regardless (which sums up an awful lot of peoples’ relationship to their religion). This means that any concept of a God-figure that I could imagine would be enormous. I would be no bigger than an atom in its structure. A building block with no expectations of specialized treatment. Who speaks to a brick?

Since I don’t expect to be singled out after I close my eyes that final time, I have developed my own sort of afterlife. It involves how often you are remembered. This is sort of a rest stop on the road from life to death. When the last relative, friend, coworker, student or enemy utters your name, you are well and truly gone. You move on and take your place with all the other bricks that cannot see their structure but hold together nonetheless.

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PS. Just a reminder that Bear in Mind is now available at Amazon. Nobody in it frets about the afterlife. Promise.

Posted in General Stuff, indy publishing | 3 Comments