As I write this I’m in a semi-insomniatic* state. I’ve been averaging about 2-3 hours of sleep a night for several days now. I’m zapped of creativity, productivity, positivity…..you name it, I’ve depleted it. It’s a major accomplishment to get out of my PJ’s by noon, my eyeballs have a distinct hard-boiled feeling, my muscles ache. I think I could be brainwashed into believing in an impending alien abduction, and take up residence in an underground bunker. I need an intervention.

Everything I’ve heard about insomnia tells me I’m likely stressed about something, or drinking too much caffeine or alcohol, staying up too late, or in some other way “bringing it on,” but the truth is I’m not conscious of anything that should cause this current season of sleeplessness. I’m feeling content, happy, at peace, for the most part, with my life. I don’t get it.

Let me tell you what I’ve tried, lest you think I’m a novice at this whole sleeplessness thing.

-No caffeine after about noon? Check.
-Quiet, dark bedroom? Check
-Warm bath before bed? Check
-Reading? Check
-Watching a movie? Check
-Writing a list of things to do the next day so they don’t keep me up? Check
-Soft music w/ headphones? Check
-Mentally reciting long memorized bible passages? Check
-Earplugs? Check
-Tylenol PM? Check
-Ambien? Check
-A shot of (insert hard liquor of choice here)? Check
-Begging to be clubbed like a baby seal for the love of a good night’s sleep? Check (but no one in my family will oblige)

The truth is, I’ve struggled with it all my life, and I’m curious as to how widespread insomnia really is. I used to think I had it just because I traveled a lot; now I think it’s just my lot in life. But, get this—almost every friend or family member I have talked to in the last year or so has had bouts with it. People spanning from twenty-something to sixty-something. Which for me, begs the question, Has it always been this bad, or is there some sort of modern epidemic happening? And if so, why?

I have a few theories….but I’m too tired to write about them at the moment. Something about living in an age of immediate and excessive information, overstimulation…..that kind of thing. Maybe you can articulate it better than me. I can’t seem to string together a coherent sentence in this fuzzy mental state.

So….I’m asking.

Come out of the woodwork, fellow vampires (minus the blood and fangs), tell me your woes, your theories and please, please, share your remedies if you have any.

• Word software tells me I’m making this word up. The nerve.

I’ve been reading like a maniac lately. Reading for pleasure, for information, for escape for inspiration. Here’s a peek…

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

This novel set in Mississippi in the early ’60’s is about three women—two African-American house maids (“the help”) and one young (white) budding journalist—whose lives are touched by the slow, painful crawl toward integration in the deep south. So far, loving it.

The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp

Just finished this a couple of days ago; practical and philosophical, this book reveals the creative life habits of the author, a highly successful award-winning choreographer. She’s brilliant, disciplined and extremely well-read. Her ideas are challenging me, personally, in a big way right now. (example: this woman still goes to the gym 2 hrs a day and is in her 70’s!!!!)

Breath for the Bones by Lucy Shaw

Just getting started on this one; a book that examines “how art informs faith and how faith animates art”. This came recommended by my author friend, Terry Esau (Surprise Me, God) and I’m really liking her perspective. Kind of reminds me of Walking on Water by Madeline L’Engle. Reading this in small doses; it’s dense.

The Alphabet of Grace by Frederich Buechner

Buechner writes observations about grace set to the clock of an average day in his New England pastoral life. His insightful poetic prose always slays me. I read him like I eat a favorite meal; savoring every morsel. (up next from him: Godric, his novel. I’ve only read his non fiction. I adore him.)

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller

This was our last month’s book club pick and one that LOTS of people are talking about. His description of kayaking across a wide inlet in the middle of the night, losing sight of both shores and inevitably rowing on “toward a better story” left an indelible impression on me. He’s accessible and profound and funny and I love his exhortation to create a more memorable life.

Yesterday I walked past a book called: How to Look Like a Dancer (Without Being One) at Barnes and Noble and I started to giggle at a strange memory it triggered. It’s one I’ve filed under Weird Comments, Looks or Questions I Get When Traveling With a Guitar. And it reminded me again that people really really do say the strangest things.

I was running toward my gate in the Denver airport, late for a connecting flight home. Running is always a feat when I’ve got a guitar on my back and a laptop bag slung over my shoulder. I was in pain, I was sweating, and I was close to an all out panic attack, but I made it to my gate and onto my flight.

I squeezed my way down the aisle looking for overhead space big enough to fit my guitar and got the typical curious stares (is she someone famous?) and skeptical looks (where’s she gonna put THAT thing?) that I’m used to. I’m also used to, Hey, you gonna play us a song on that thing, or what? Hahaha. I get that one a lot. I sometimes wonder if people think they are the first ones who’ve ever thought to ask it. (Oh, the things I want to retort when I’m tired and cranky!) Anyway, I found a small spot, nestled the guitar into it and began the search for a seat.

The one remaining middle seat was next to an older, distinguished-looking Japanese businessman in a pin-striped suit, glasses and neatly combed silver hair. He got up to let me in, I collapsed into my seat and the rest of the flight was uneventful. I didn’t speak to the woman reading on my left, nor to the Japanese gentleman on my right, whose primary activity during the entire flight was working numbers on some spreadsheet labyrinth on his laptop. It made my head hurt to look at it.

We landed. When it was our turn, my polite, reserved neighbor stood to let me out and was right behind me in the slow crawl down the aisle toward the exit. I reached up and extricated my guitar from the overhead bin and as I did I heard him say quietly, Oh, you play guitah? (he had a heavy Japanese accent) Yes, I answered. To which he made the comment, Oh, I thought you were dancah. A DANCER?! I thought to myself, and wanted to turn right around and say, Whatever gave you THAT idea?? But I kept walking, eyes forward, feeling a little creeped out.

I thought about that bizarre comment in my head for several days, and for the life of me could not arrive at a conclusion that made any sense. So I stopped thinking about it. Until I saw this book!!

Moral of the story? Maybe try not to stare too hard or make strange, random observations out loud when you encounter traveling musicians. We get a lot of that.

A friend recently issued a blog challenge to me to write about 10 things I can’t live without. I thought it might be fun, so here are mine, not necessarily in order of importance…

1. MY MACBOOK
I’ve had my laptop for 3 years now, or maybe it’s had me?! Photos, song ideas, schedule, databases, friends’ contact info, letters, artwork, movies, poems that inspire me…..oh, I could go on. It got sick a couple of months ago and had to go away for a week. I was lost, I tell you, LOST!

2. MY GUITAR
I have friends who own finely crafted guitars worth tens of thousands of dollars, and honestly, I love my Taylor but it’s not the brand I can’t live without. I love that it gives me the ability to create music for the melodies and lyrics that show up in my head.

3. AVEDA
I have used these organic, botanicals-based products for about 15 years, and any time I use another brand, no matter how highly recommended or expensive, I break out in dry spots and red blotches. I use their facial cleanser, hydrating lotion, exfoliating mask and eye cream. Everything they make smells gorgeous.

4. PEET’S COFFEEe
I come from Strong Coffee People. I simply cannot do weak, watery coffee. If I’m traveling, I will keep driving until I find something robust and fresh and preferably dark roast. If it doesn’t put hair on your chest, why bother? Peet’s is the best I’ve found.

5. PINOT NOIR
I’m a late convert to the world of red wine, but once I entered the fold, there was no turning back. Watch the scene in Sideways where Paul Giamatti explains the process of the pinot grape to Virginia Madsen. If you have no desire to taste a good Pinot Noir after that scene, I’m not sure we can be friends. ☺

6. BOOKS
I was an English major in college, and I’m a lifelong bookworm. I can’t help it; words are my love language. I’m usually reading about four books at once. I host a book club once a month and they tease me because I usually end up unilaterally choosing the books. I find it painful leaving bookstores.

7. THE OCEAN
I’ve lived in California since I was 12. The ocean is therapeutic for me; its vastness reminds me of my place in the world. It’s as close as I get to understanding the boundless love of God.

8. CHOCOLATE
I’ve noticed that some people go for the fruity desserts or ice cream when they order dessert. I don’t understand this at all. Chocolate is the only thing worth blowing all those ridiculous calories on…..right?

9. EXERCISE
I’m not a workout fanatic; I’m not in great shape. I could never train for a race because I don’t have a competitive bone in my body. But I’ve never gone more than a few weeks without engaging in some sort of regular exercise. I run, I walk, do yoga, pilates, I bike, whatever. I get restless and irritable when I don’t do something physical.

10. BUBBLE BATHS
In the winter, on those bone-chilling days when I can’t seem to put on enough layers to stay warm, there’s nothing like a bath to make me feel toasty from head to toe. I sometimes think of the old days when they had to heat several kettles of water on the stove to fill a tub for the “family bath,” and I thank God dearly for modern conveniences.

…so, in the spirit of the challenge I was given, if you’re a blogger, why not post YOUR Ten? Leave your blog link here in a comment so we can read it!

If the Ghost of Christmas Past had visited me a few days ago he would have given me a lashing for sure. I didn’t have the festive spirit of days gone by. Gone was my excitement for decorating the tree, baking those star-shaped sugar cookies my family loves, putting out the holly hand towels in the downstairs bathroom (even if they do have “Bah Humbug” embroidered in green silky thread). Just couldn’t imagine conjuring all that good cheer out of thin air, and it was nowhere to be found in my heart.

But rituals die hard, so the other night the fam headed out to find the perfect Christmas tree, and lo and behold, we actually found a beauty. We brought it home, hauled the ornament boxes from the garage, opened them up and the kids dug right in, started decorating. I was reaching for the shiny new disco-ball ornanaments I had bought in coordinating colors last year for 50% off, when my son announced, “I say we only put ornaments on that are special, that mean something to us.”

“Yeah?” I answered, and put down the disco balls reluctantly. I was hoping a little bling would help bolster my Christmas spirit.

“I agree,” my daughter chimed in. I was outnumbered and they had a certain unarguable point.

And so for the next hour or so we went through several boxes of ornaments and picked out ones which fit the critera for meaningful or special: handmade, given to us as gifts, obtained somewhere memorable, that kind of thing. The gold spray-painted macaroni star picture frame Abby made in 2nd grade. (“Awww….Remember that haircut?” we laughed)

The popsicle stick picture frame covered in green spray-painted macaroni Zach made in preschool. (“You picked out that outfit yourself that day!!”)

The hand folded origami a teenager made for me at a church in Boise where I sang last Christmas. (see above)

The clown with moving arms and legs made by Nicaraguan children we visited with World Vision a couple of years ago. (“They had so little…and the dances they performed for us!” we told our kids again, who weren’t able to make the trip with us) The hand painted glass ball given to me by a student I loved dearly.

Each one we hung had a story, and we told those stories as we decorated the tree. Not in a Lifetime Movie Channel “gather ‘round kids” kind of forced way. Just sort of naturally….joking as we went, getting choked up from time to time (ok, maybe just I did, but i think my kids were a little nostalgic, too)

And I will say this: there is something to remembering. The Ghost of Christmas Past did well to drag Scrooge around to watch scenes from happy years gone by. I felt my frozen heart melting like candle wax while we decorated that tree. And you know what I did the next day? I found those Bah-Humbug hand towels, washed and put them out. I baked a pumpkin spice cake, I decorated my fireplace mantle with sparkly things and fir tree boughs. Not out of a sense of duty….but because I just felt like it. I’m ready to make a few more memories.