Jet-lag!

The travel writer, Pico Iyer, has observed that much of the work of travel is done after one returns. He, of course, is talking about the processing and internalizing of the new experiences one has had while abroad. He is certainly spot on about that. While one is living through so many new sensations and impressions, the brain is constantly playing catch up. Amid so much new sensory data, the brain struggles to absorb and order the information that is being gathered. Upon return, however, if one has the good fortune to sit and reflect, the work of making sense of it all becomes possible.

Jet-lag, on the other hand, is a physical response to air travel that leaves our circadian rhythms in chaos. The trip to Australia was particularly demanding in this regard. I'm not even sure how many time zones were crossed coming in going, but I do know that it wrecked me in both directions. For the first few nights after arriving in Australia, I'd get back to my hotel from dinner between 8:30 and 9:00. I'd get into bed, turn on the TV and start watching a show ( I was surprised to see how much they liked Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives in Australia!). I'd be full engrossed in the show and then, boom! I'd be out like a light. I'd rally at some point to turn off the TV and the lights a give myself into the arms of Morpheus. Then, around 2:30 I'd awaken to answer the call of nature, return to bed, and lie there wide awake. I'd toss, I'd turn, I'd recite poetry, I'd practice breathing techniques. Nothing. Then, finally, after about two hours, I would drop off again.

Morristown, circa 4:00 a.m.

The result of this sleep disruption was that generally, by 3:00 in the afternoon, I was ready for a nap. Fortunately, I never had to be there any where, so I could indulge. The interesting thing, though, was that my body had the exact same response both coming and going to Australia. After getting back to the monastery, I'd be up at 3:00/3:30 a.m. and be wide awake. Oh well. At least I found some things to do and saw some beautiful sunrises. Eventually, it passes . . . like so many of life's inconveniences.