To sleep — perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub!
Shakespeare

After a week of soul-sucking insomnia, I’m not feeling much like myself.

Some might ask if that’s really such a bad thing. (Sure, pick on the sleep-deprived guy.)

I’ve tried melatonin, Tylenol PM, magnesium, Sleepytime tea… even considered a pint of whiskey. Okay, no whiskey yet. But I’m getting close.

So far, nothing has worked. I’m drowsy all day and wide awake all night. If it weren’t for my love of garlic, I might worry that I’ve crossed over into vampire territory.

Of course, I have no one to blame but myself. (Well, me… and Donald Trump.) My real enemy lies within: the monkey mind. In Buddhist thought, it’s the restless mental state of racing thoughts, anxiety, fatigue, and lack of focus.

And it makes sense. Pile together the uncertainties of my personal life (yes, still job-hunting) with the unrelenting attacks on education, democratic institutions, civil rights, and the rule of law in the U.S.—no wonder I can’t sleep.

The solution? Easy: move to Italy.

Until then, I’ll try to quiet this monkey mind. Maybe this statue I photographed outside the Chuang Yen Buddhist Monastery in Carmel, N.Y., can be my guide. He looks so utterly at peace, doesn’t he?

Maybe tonight, I’ll sleep that well.