The Mythology of Bed

Our bloodlines go back much farther than we usually imagine. Most of us are thrilled to trace our lineage back three, four, five generations- days of migration, of doing without, of honest work. What we inherit is tangible: a homeland, a physiognomy, a name.

What has been passed down in my family has landed me in New England- a tall, lean body and hair that is prematurely graying. I have a large, fleshy nose and a taste for pungent foods. My sense of smell is acute, and I am a masterful sleeper.

Long ago, when my ancestors slept in trees, their busy bodies and watchful eyes would relax into sleep as they secured their places in high branches, large hands and feet gripping just enough. We need to sleep. In order to be alert enough to survive, we need to enter into states of complete release, controlled vulnerability. A bed makes us safe.

Our sleep deprivation is ancestral- mutates over time so that we are genetically predisposed toward bed. My ancestors were ever watchful. My ancestors were deeply tired. I sleep their thousand-year-old-sleep. I take a lot of naps.