Category Archives: The Liminal Times

The Royal Nap

http://childpsychiatryassociates.com/treatment-team How to Take the Perfect Nap - Elemental I’ve seen people doing some crazy shit while in lockdown during the pandemic: salsa lessons in the mirror; workouts with pumpkins; reading.

Ironically, the one thing we aren’t doing seems to be getting rest.

It’s understandable. COVID-19 is a wicked bender. Sundays blend to Mondays, work to weekends, weeks to months, Julys to Novembers (just watch).

In response, I propose we treat a forgotten luxury more luxuriously: the common nap.

We take them for granted. Grab them on the fly. Squeeze one in when we can find the time (which somehow still seems limited).

Instead, how about making a ritual of the routine? After all, there will come a time, COVID or not, when we will not be able to indulge the indulgence. So while we’re at it, how about recognizing the baffling beauty of a sun-dappled nod-off?

Consider the difficulty Americans have with the nation of slumber. We can’t fall asleep. We can’t wake up. Our mattresses suck (if you believe those Sealy pawns). Our sleep numbers are off. How to Fall Asleep: 8 Sleep Hacks for Falling Asleep Faster - Purple

Why, then, are naps so easy? Is it the guilty pleasure, the feeling we’re getting away with something? Is our circadian rhythm naturally set to siestas? Whatever the reason, the time has come to make naps as celebrated a ritual as a formal dinner. So here’s a how-to guide to a fully-experienced drift: (Note, this can only be done with a cooperating child, mate or pet that will allow you 1.5-2 hours of unadulterated dozing):

Set the thermostat to 5 degrees below normal.
With the lights out, take a warm shower.
Don’t soap or shampoo. You can do that another time. Instead, close your eyes and imagine yourself as the granite beneath a cascading waterfall. Hear the rush. Feel the rush.
Stay as long as you wish. Indulge the water. This is The Royal Nap.
When you’ve felt the tensions largely leave your body, get out, dry and put on your favorite undergarments.
Go to the coolest, darkest room in your home. Close the door. Seal out all light.
Turn on a fan; generate white noise and a breeze.
Lay face down in the bed, even if don’t sleep face down.
Close your eyes.
Begin the checklist: from your eyelids to your toes, think of every body part as you mentally scan down. Release the tension in every muscle. Relax every joint.
Begin to feel the weight of your limp body. Feel every limb become leaden, loose and heavy as you sink deeper and deeper into the mattress.
Think about breathing through your nose, about how you seem to sink a little lower, weigh a little more, with each full breath out.
Finally, shift to the side you sleep on. It should be a little effort to even roll over now.
Settle into the covers, into the bed, into the bliss of unconsciousness.
Feel the weight of your steady exhalations. Feel the sinking…
…and have a good nap…

What We Tell Ourselves

The HB Liminal Times editor recently came across this kinda profound psychological test.

The results are a bit stilted, and aimed at a pretty specific demographic.

But the exercise is illuminating nonetheless, and serves as a kind of omni-directional introspection. A Rorshach 2.0, or a Meyers-Briggs personality test — video edition, if you will. However you word it, it underscores the narrative we tell ourselves.

It begins with a simple question: What do you say to yourself? How would you characterize your shortcomings? What emotions do you lament? What habits do you have that you consider loathsome?

Now look at a photo of your 8-year-old self. What would you say to yourself then? Would those criticisms still apply? Would the assessment change?

The video includes only female respondents — and seems aimed at prospective customers of self-help books, therapy, programs, etc. I’d love to see if men respond differently than women, and, if so, how so.

Regardless, it’s a terrific exercise in how we view ourselves, as it seems inevitable that the cost analysis of how we value our own stock will be modulated by it. I was surprised by the severity of the self-reviews in the video. The editor who found it was not.

But here’s what I’d say to my 8-year-old self:

You will face things that, on paper, are pretty scary. Sometimes they will seem unmanageable. They are only scary on paper, and there’s nothing that cannot be managed.
You will be loved in ways you cannot imagine.
You will still have fun, even as a grown-up, with toys. They’ll just cost more. But never stop playing with them.
And don’t be so embarrassed by your first name. One day, you’ll wish you used “Guy” more often, even though kids will tease you for the way teachers pronounce your name: “Gee, Scott Bowles.”