I got out of bed not being able to sleep and moved to write to capture some thoughts for myself in the quest for wisdom and yet I find myself debating the value of the effort itself. The human mind is a perverse creature. So, why do I believe that having someone else share my bed at this hour would make it easier for me to sleep this morning? I know that it has something to do with a concept, vaguely grasped at this hour, that I want to term "balance." I don't know why I should feel, on Thursday morning at three AM, out of balance, but I do. Why right now? Do I under-value my sleep in favor of contemplation? It's not a conscious valuation in this case, either for sleep or contemplation. Consciously, I realize that it would be better to be making Z's right about now and thinking deep thoughts about the meaning of life when I had a larger surplus of leisure to devote to the effort. Sleep just isn't happening. Why do the consequences of values I've not obtained or for which I have not searched hard enough choose to assault me at three AM, as opposed to five or six in the evening?
At any rate, balance. Balance is having the stupidity of politics, the fate of the empire, the alarming uncertainty of the economy, and the frightful state of disrepair currently afflicting your automobile needle you at three AM but also realizing that the lovely warm creature sleeping next to you, who has brought you so many sundry pleasures, both trivial and sublime, is quite happy and content merely to have you next to her, no matter what else happens to the world, and helped along by the concrete reality of her physical presence, having reached that realization, being able to drop off to sleep yourself.
I think that exhaustion is now overtaking the lack of serenity. As Daffy Duck would say, "Let's try that again." Back to bed.