Only if for a night

 And it's breaking over me,
A thousand miles down to the sea bed,
Found the place to rest my head.
Never let me go, never let me go.
Never let me go, never let me go.

-- Florence + The Machine, "Never Let Me Go"

Self portrait 5-12-13

“Self abandoned, relaxed and effortless,

I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river; 

I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, 

I felt the torrent come; 

to rise I had no will,
to flee I had no strength.”

                                                                                              -- Charlotte Bronte, Jayne Eyre
 
 

I slept.

All night.

Somehow I cracked the code.

Probably it had something to do with the fact that I had slept less than 2 hours in the previous 36. 

But still ...

I am rested and alert -- a strange feeling for sure -- all buzzy and tingly. Scrubbed. 

When I woke, I wanted to marinate -- no, to drown, in the beautiful buzziness. 

I wanted to sink further into it and soak it up and to never get out of bed again lest I break the spell -- that magical convergence of fatigue, hope, hopelessness, the planets, the gods, and pure dumb luck that mercifully pulled me under and held me beneath the surface, only if for a night.

I know the spell won't last.

All magic spells are momentary, breakable, un-doable.

There is always a reversal, an anti-spell. 

But for now I will accept this elusive and magical gift that comes along but once in a very blue moon, before it slips away and is eventually and inevitably, undone.