Wintry wonderings

You know, sometimes I think we humans have really forced ourselves into some unnatural behaviors. For example, aren't mammals supposed to sleep at some point in midday? Don't most mammals do this? Yet because we have mechanically-controlled schedules and a complex societal/economic infrastructure that requires the cooperation of more than just a small tribe of hunters, we can't allow ourselves this. "Thanks for the meeting, guys, sounds pretty interesting. Excuse me now while I sleep through the heat of midday." We allow this to children, but not to stressed-out, responsibility-laden adults. Why else do we all seem to experience that mid-afternoon drag? Some of us turn to snacks for energy, because we can't just lay down and sleep. Let's start a campaign for the good of humanity: More naps! Less sugar!

I think this is also a pretty good explanation for why people get grouchy and tired during winter. The sun is low; daylight is short. For centuries, this was when we -- out of necessity! -- stopped working in the frozen fields, and spent our time inside on small projects, passing the long evenings with stories and community. But now that we're no longer so dependent on daylight to carry out our tasks, we try to keep the same hours and activities that we do during the summer. Doesn't this just somehow seem... wrong? Artificial? In contradiction to our biological rhythms? As a result, we're tired; performance lags; we get cranky. Here I don't recommend that companies change their policies to account for "winter behavior", but maybe it would at least help us all individually to recognize that we're just going to feel a little less than 100% between November and March. Or, well, at least it helps me to recognize this! :)

Then, maybe I'm just particularly sensitive to all this "season" business, anyway. After spending so long in the desert, these irregularities in sunlight availability must be seriously impacting my system. I've never enjoyed spring so much as I did last year: "So that's where we get all these cliches about the Earth 'coming back to life'! It really does stir, like an old man slowly waking up." No wonder our ancestors could so easily personify Nature. Following this, the whole summer was just an orgy of energy and happiness and activity.

Come October, though, I started to noticeably slow down and get more pensive; and then by November, I'm downright sluggish. The effort to try to maintain the activity expectations set up by the summer makes me irritable. I've found myself sliding back into some of the melancholy thoughts I remember from last January: "Am I really making the right decisions, here? Where am I going with work? Why am I still broke? Am I actually a good language trainer, or will I get found out as a fraud at any moment? Why aren't I working on my PhD right now? Where's my family? Do I actually have a 'home' anywhere?"

The realization displeases me -- "I thought I was over this!" -- until I consider the possibility that maybe it's just the time of year for brooding. It would make sense: nothing has actually changed enough to justify my sudden, inexpicable shift in attitude, except the season. Maybe if it snowed here, the landscape would take on that soft, magical look that it lends the Erzgebirge, quieting the harsh lines of the bare tree branches and reflecting some of the low light back up into the sky. But in Ludwigshafen, it only rains, making the highrises uglier, wetter, and darker, and more visible through the naked trees. Ugh. At least the realization that it's probably just the time of year helps quiet inner concerns that I'm actually dissatisfied with my newly-made life.

This is certainly true of the daylight factor. Bert was the one who noticed it: he says I'm a bird. As soon as the sun comes up, "cheepcheepcheep!" I'm energetic and talkative and optimistic. But as soon as the towel is dropped back down over my birdcage, I get quiet and slow-moving again. He's right! Now that I thought to notice it, evidence is everywhere. If I have to get up before sunrise, the world, and my outlook, are gloomy and cranky. The moment it's light outside, I have this personality shift, and feel like a productive, successful contributor to society, in control of my day and my world. Weird. A little unsettling. And yet simultaneously comforting, in that any bouts of moodiness will probably shift back again naturally, come ten o'clock, or springtime.

The sheer realization of this appears to be a good coping strategy. The other two are 1) working out and 2) eating. Yesterday, the former was it: I punished that elliptical machine for an hour, pouring cleansing sweat, bathing my brain in oxygen, clearing out my insides with the simultaneously energizing and comforting rhythm of pounding feet and heart. I love that full-body swing that running/elliptical training facilitates. You feel so powerful and light, reveling in the primal joy of a healthy body's freedom of movement. Today, though, I could hardly muster enough energy to catch my Strassenbahn on time (it was also raining, which might contribute to the Sunlight Theory). When I got home, I proceeded to change into my pajamas, flop down on the couch, and eat the better part of a rather sizable bar of 80% dark chocolate, washed down with most of a bottle of red wine, plus a block of Swiss cheese, for good measure.

The only thing left to do is just hunker down and wait for March!