Vigor

I went back to sleep this morning until quarter to six after waking at four. Dumb idea, trying to get more sleep in the morning. I’ve learned I’m better off getting up and trying to take a nap later, but it was so late by the time I got to sleep last night and my physical pain was still so prevalent when I awoke that I just didn’t want to slide my feet from under my warm comforter to sit in my office or out on the porch.

Eventually, slowly, after much ibuprofen and coffee, I did make my way out onto the porch, bringing the copy of Doctorow’s Homer and Langley that I ordered online. I’m supposed to be reading light fiction, and until now it hasn’t been all that taxing or even provocative (which isn’t to say that I wouldn’t recommend it). But this morning I reached the point in the novel when the narrator realizes for the first time the full consequences of his blindness, understands fully that he is at a disadvantage. This blow to his self-image is nearly as damaging as his further conclusion that love will forever elude him.

In describing this moment, the narrator explains that he’d lost “the mental vigor that comes of a natural happiness in finding oneself alive.” I wonder, do people really feel that? Mental vigor? Natural happiness? And from finding oneself alive, no less.