“Surrounded By Time,” an essay about insomnia by Brian Segal

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Surrounded By Time

By Brian Segal

I have had problems with insomnia. Perhaps that is not exactly the truth. I used the past tense in the first sentence. My difficulties concerning sleep deprivation were only artificially overcome with a “cocktail” of sleep aids (medications). My sleep may not be “naturally” induced but it sure beats what had become a fear of the night and the lack of sleep it would bring. When I initially began to deal with insomnia, one thing I was told by a doctor was to remove the clock that I kept on the night table beside my bed. The theory behind that suggestion was that I had begun to obsess on my time lying awake in bed. Staring blankly at a clock for literally hours on end only served to make my lack of sleep the pre-eminent focus of my being. I would listen for the sound signals of the night and then look over at the clock in despair at times, knowing that it would soon be time to get out of bed. The “signals” I am talking about were things like the sound of the car of the man delivering the paper at about 3:00 in the morning. I have long since removed the clock. It sits in a room in the basement of my house. It still keeps time of course but it no longer holds me in its hands.

As I stated at the start of this story I am now sleeping and no longer fear the night. One thing I did recently notice is that I am surrounded by time. I suppose in a sense everyone is. An unavoidable circumstance of having a finite lifespan in an infinitely expanding universe can make us all at times very aware of how our lives are like milliseconds ticking away on some vast cosmic timepiece. Even as I sit writing, I am surrounded by visual reminders of seconds ticking away. My computer monitor shows the time, the answering machine beside me goes one step further, and at the press of a button a disembodied voice tells you the time. I have a digital indoor/outdoor thermometer that sits on a table beside me. It also shows the time. I phoned my brother yesterday to tell him that my little part of the world had achieved a sort of synchronicity. At about 11:00 AM it was -19 Celsius outdoors and +19 Celsius in the room.

I was trying to count the number of clocks/timepieces that there are in the kitchen and living room of our home. After awhile I ran out of time and gave up.

Even as I sit surrounded by reminders of my own finality I find it awe inspiring to look up at the nightime sky. You can look up at stars, some of which are millions of light years away, and may have long ago ceased to exist. You can look up at a point of light that began its travels towards the earth long before our planet was even formed.

There are a great number of expressions that use the concept of time as their main focus. You can have “too much time on your hands.” I don’t suppose that that means you wear more than one watch.

Something can “take forever to occur.” I am not sure how that expression came about. It would seem that at some point someone experienced the infinite nature of time. Where he or she is right now is hard to say.

“Wasting time” is an expression I can understand. You only have a limited amount from the moment of your birth until the moment you lose your mortal coil. What you do with that time is your business, but like my mother used to tell me, “Don’t spend all your allowance on candy and gum.”

“Passing time” is, I believe, not technically possible. (At least not according to Einstein.)

I am not sure what got me started writing this short essay. I do believe it is just part of the process of getting older. There is a time when you can see the arc of your life. Yes, I said arc not ark. There is a horizon that everyone at some time or another becomes aware of.

I was watching a program on a PBS channel. It was about Stephen Hawking, and he was talking about how stars can fold space around them. I feel as if time eventually wraps itself around you and then who knows what happens?

Maybe then you can get a good night’s sleep.

Brian Segal is living in the country north of Montréal. He was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis about 18 years ago and, when asked, tells people he is retired (It sounds a lot better than telling people you are on disability insurance). He is happily married, no children, but one very friendly husky cross. He also has the good fortune of living in his own home, not a home.

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