Point of View: Inemuri

Mary was reading the other day about “inemuri,” the Japanese tradition of napping on the job.

“You’d be highly respected there,” she said.

“Well, I’ve never entirely gone to sleep on the job,” I said. “I’ve always jerked myself awake.”

“So you think.”

It is true. I tend toward narcolepsy, the more so as I age, while she is plagued at times by insomnia, brought on by feelings of being alone in the universe, or, contrariwise, by the knowledge that things are going very well.

Hers is by far the worse ailment, to my mind, and I would love it if a cure were found. None has yet. She is simply too smart, too keenly aware of how fleeting everything is, though the eternal round, while it may offer solace in the Orient, offers cold comfort to her. 

Neither of us believes in reincarnation, though she has professed the wish at times that I come back as a woman. Then I would see, then I would have my eyes opened! I’ve always shuddered at the thought . . . before dozing off. 

On that subject, she has learned over the years to check closely when my head’s bowed intently over a book before putting a bowl of hot soup in my lap.

“Just practicing, you know, so that I’ll finally get some respect at the office,” I say on coming to.

Meanwhile, I can say truly that she has suffered more than I have, if for no other reason than she is so much more aware than I of the suffering of others. She should, then, be the more joyous of us two, if I read the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu aright. 

But her loving heart can keep her awake at night.