I'm starting a new habit: journaling. I've postponed this for years, but my recent reading of the Atomic Habits by James Clear made me get back to the habits that I found interesting. So, here's my first entry after a break.
Today, I want to talk about my pitch dark room at 5:30 am. We have set up a club house/gaming zone in our backyard. A month ago, the sunshine and fresh air from my back door used to fill my room. Now that we have covered that area, I go upstairs or outside to get a taste of freshness which I used to enjoy inside. Every luxury comes at a cost.
Back to my story of no light. It's a strange feeling to be in a pitch-dark room because our eyes cannot see a thing even when its open. I find it strange because I am used to dim lighting in dark rooms. Our pupils adjust to low light and we can estimate the layout; it's never so dark that we cannot see anything. My situation made me think about the absence of vision, the sense organ that consumes 80% of the body's energy. I was devoid of that for the next 30 minutes.
What could I do? I had heard that when we lose a sense, other senses get heightened. Naturally, I tried to check if my hearing had improved. I was observing the ticks of the clock and the silence in the room. They were certainly more prominent. Then, I made my bed with closed eyes, and moved around the room. While doing my morning chores, I started thinking of the games in which players are blindfolded. I thought how good I would be if I were to play, since I'm not afraid of the dark and can orient myself well.
That was until the clock went past 6:30 pm and it started to become partially lit again. My eyes found their use and everything started to turn normal.
So, what was I doing?
I was alone in a pitch-dark room really early on a Sunday morning, thinking about my superpowers. That behavior is pretty common in my life. Wait till I tell you about my personal fly catcher.
PS. This was a pretty chill writing. Don't fact-check or draw conclusions based on this. I'm adapting to the free flow approach to writing.