This past evening, I awoke in the middle of the night to hit the head. The moonlight, on its way through the prism in the deck, played tricks on my tired mind, making me look older. I was simultaneously thinking about aging and wondering how quickly I would be able to fall asleep again, when I had an insentient philosophical thought: Before I die, a full bladder will summon me from dreams hundreds of times and I will answer the call in bathrooms all over the world. Each bathroom will be further along the continuum of my life and thus, a new point on the graph of my personal growth.
I extorted three points from this series of thoughts.
ONE: The insanity plea is a nice little safety net to keep in my back pocket.
TWO: Really, though. Whether between trees or walls, the bathrooms one uses in the middle of the night are indicative, in some ridiculous way, of the shape of a life. A place one has decided to spend a night represents some kind of planning, or lack thereof, that says something about place of mind and place in life.
THREE: This series of thoughts in the head at 2AM was pre-empted by my unconscious mind attempting to wrap itself around what is currently going on in my life: I am growing and changing. I live on a sailboat.
The moments between full and empty bladders are the moments of true understanding. Life as I know it is changing right out from under the bathrooms in which I deposit my clear and copious evidence of hydration.
