Today is the mid-point.
Stayed up late last night, working and reading and reviewing—mostly my life over the past year, reflecting. The dark seems the only natural time to do this. Why is that? In the dark we lose ourselves. It is a way of being found again. In some ways, the pressure in looking back comes from connecting a chain of unrelated events, giving them causes and effects, and saying, “This equals me.” Rarely do the events and my self-perception match up evenly.
When I slept last night, my dreams accomplished all sorts of work. Imaginary work, but the result was the same. A sense of completion.