The Early Hours

“Thank god for TikTok and its endless stream of content. Without it, I would have nothing but time.”

-Tano Rubio

It’s 4 am. It’s that time of day (night/morning) when one can almost sink into the quiet like deep folds in a blanket – a time when one can almost feel the slow stretch of time. I was up at 2:30 (shoulder pain) and again at 3:30 (restlessness and the dog in the room with his barely audible whine). I got out of bed at 3:30 thinking the dog needed to pee. We had cut his evening walk short because another dog was coming our way and I didn’t want to deal with it. The dog didn’t need, or want, to go to the bathroom. He almost cowered because he could sense I wasn’t happy with being up. I sat on the floor. He came over and sat in my lap resting his head on my chest. Maybe he was having a tough time sleeping too.

It’s 4 am and I’m not sure what to do with myself. I’ve already eaten breakfast. I’m putting these thoughts down here. I’m thinking about this notion of time – how little of it we have, how we look to fill it and the only places to turn, for many of us, are towards those isolating technologies that feed our brains little hits of dopamine. The poem I read this morning begins with an epigraph that reads:

The isolation of this existence has led many to take
refuge in such forms of interaction as the Internet
—from The Karma of Brown Folk

-From “Feed Auténtica” by Tano Rubio in Rattle 179, Spring 2023

At 4 am I’m thinking about the nature of work. There’s a book out that I’d like to read. It’s called The Good Enough Job. It stresses the importance of life outside of work and pushes back on the popular notion that our work should be our calling. At 4 am I’m wondering where best to put my talents. I’m wondering what those talents might be. Who or what gets my first, best self? I want to work on things I care about (inequality, justice, the environment). If I work on things I care about, I’m worried I won’t have time for the other things I care or hope to care about.

One of my first thoughts as I tossed and turned between 2:30 and 3:30 was my ex would have been frustrated with me for tossing and turning (or maybe she would have been concerned and caring). At 4 am I’m thinking about the nature of giving care to others – what it takes to show compassion instead of frustration. The dog woke me up and I was frustrated. I can do better, but maybe not this early in the morning. At 4 am, or sometime before, I’m thinking about care givers and psychological sinks. I’m thinking that a lot of people are not doing ok. I’m thinking about how several times a week, every week, I absorb some of the emotional burdens that my team shares with me – marital struggles, household struggles, financial struggles. I listen, I advise, I try to sympathize. I have many of the same challenges in my own life. I usually keep them to myself. Sometimes, I write about them here on this blog. People have cried when they’ve talked to me. Crying is fine, is natural. I can see in their eyes the stress that has built up. People are not ok. “The isolation of this existence has led many…”

I tossed and turned between 2:30 and 3:30. I thought about my friend at the bar, the one who is content in his relationship, but maybe not happy, the friend who sometimes regrets the one who got away. I don’t want to end up like him. I have one or two that got away and I want whatever I settle into to next to eclipse anything that’s come before. Otherwise, why bother? At 4 am I’m thinking I have a lot to offer someone: attention, time, affection, curiosity, adventure. “The isolation of this existence….” At 4 am I’m thinking about a tweet a psychologist I follow had shared. At 4 am I go looking for the tweet: “A soothing voice. A relaxing touch. Laying with someone in your comfort zone. Feeling fingers in your hair. These all regulate the nervous system. Schedule time to just be with your safe person. Your nervous system will thank you.” At 4 am I listen to the song “Coming Home” by Wild Child

Run fingers through your hair, skin and skin
Lovin’ this bed that we’re lying in
Study our limbs so dark, like thick and thin
I know, I know now all I need

Smile so sweetly with your hands in mine
Feels so good to be you and me
And I remember thinking
That this was our last time
But it feels so good to let my thoughts alone

And I remember saying
That you were the last one
But now I find I want you for my own
Yes now, right now, I feel, I feel like
I feel like coming home

I tossed and turned between 2:30 and 3:30. I thought about the nature of chronic pain. My shoulder / neck area has been in pain for weeks – a pinched nerve type of pain, a dull persistent pain. I probably slouch too much. I probably sleep all wonky. Maybe my neck is craned too much looking at my phone. “Refuge in such forms of interaction as the internet.” Maybe my laptop is too high in relation to how I sit. Maybe it was the push-up routine I was trying to get back into. Maybe it’s because it’s the shoulder that holds the leash. I know the pain. I study the pain. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep.

Just before 4 am as the waffles toast, I clear the dishes from the sink. I’m going to be hungry earlier than usual today. I’ll probably be tired too. I grab the collards out of the fridge to throw away down the garbage disposal.

I’m not sure what else to do with this expanse of time. Could this have been a poem? A tweet? I keep telling myself I want to try meditation again. I keep forgetting to try meditation again. It’s almost 6 am and I think I probably should have worked on or submitted some poems. Daylight is here. The dog stretches. I think you might be a psychopath is you see an animal stretch and aren’t tempted to say “biiiiggg stretch” I think you might be a psychopath if you feed your pet wet food and leave it in the bowl shaped like the can – who doesn’t fluff up the food for their pet? Psychopaths don’t. That’s who.

It’s almost 6 am and I refuse “to take / refuge in such forms of interaction as the internet.” I once bought a book of poems based solely on the title, What is Home if not a Person. And there are so many people to choose from but also not really. Is that where I want to put my first, best self?

It’s a little past 6 am. I’m revising everything. I’m editing my life and the page and the way I think. It’s a little past 6 am – I should get moving and for no reason at all other than the sun is shining, I’m singing my way into the morning…

“Yes now, right now, I feel, I feel like / I feel like coming home.”