I know I need to sleep

I know I need to sleep because I feel I might be coming down with a cold, but I can't. I tried, and my mind filled with thoughts about upcoming social events, making up stories about the people around me. Not sad or anxious thoughts, but somehow I didn't feel tired any longer. I don't even feel hungry or needing sex or physical comfort, just wide awake. My mind trips to the hum of the traffic on the freeway, wondering what it might be like to be going on a journey right now. Where would I be heading, and what would I be leaving? I hear the Amtrak train blow its horn and think about train hopping. Maybe I should start counting sheep. Perhaps there are sheep on the train, going to slaughter. Not a good thought. The past and the future are both very present on trains, and the ability of one thing to stand for another. Me, sheep, sleep. I think about praying, remembering the prayer for leaving my soul in the hands of god when I sleep. Sleep like a little death that sustains us and keeps us alive a little longer. Night trains bearing unloved little elephants on their way to the circus.

Earlier I played on the stepping stones in the park, and noticed for the first time the inscription: Be the change you want to see in the world. But how would I know what will be the results of my actions? I must take some pictures of the my free yoga class in the park. It seemed on the face of it pretty good today. I feel inspired to try a new movement exercise next time, and have students pair up and take turns mirroring each other. I did that at the dance Friday, as is my habit, and somebody said to me felt good. Nobody had said that before and I hadn't thought about it. As a matter of fact, earlier I had mirrored someone because she looked sad and lonely, as though she wanted a dance partner, and she smiled and got really happy.