Doggedly determined ...

This New Year's Eve I set my intention to be more 'dog', because 'dog' is the path to a good night's sleep.

When I ask my dog, 'what's with you?', she gives me a look that says 'nada', which is impressive as I'm pretty sure she doesn't speak Spanish. Then she yawns, shuffles a little on the hearth rug and returns to doggie dreamland. At times, envious of her ability to just snooze at will, I toss a distractor:

'Walkies!' I call.

Nothing.

'Squirrel!!'

She twitches.

'Treat!!!'

This works, and she is up on all fours like a runner at the blocks, but after three laps of the lounge and a look of withering contempt thrown in my direction, she is back on the rug. Within seconds, a gentle snore is all that can be heard against the background of the crackling fire.

How does she do that?

Sophia doesn't meditate or do yoga. She doesn't write a journal (can't hold a pencil for a toffee!). She just exists in a state of being. And despite being a rescue pup with a traumatic past, this seems never to interrupt her slumbers now she has settled into her new home.

True, she doesn't need to earn a living. That's down to me. Deadlines. Targets. Promotions. Pay days. This is the stuff that dominates so many New Year resolutions. It's also the stuff that can keep me awake at night.

And my sleep pattern is the litmus paper of my mental wellbeing.

If I go to bed and my mind is buzzing with the day's activities and tomorrow's plans, I am stressed. If I toss and turn until the wee small hours, I am anxious. If I wake at four in the morning and lay staring into the dark until the alarm goes off, my mood is low.

So how can I be more 'dog'?

I start by watching Sophia closely. And I mean closely, employing the observation skills I might use in my role as a researcher: taking in each tiny detail of her physical movement and expression, assessing these using my emotional intelligence, not judging, or taking it for granted that all she does is just lie down and drop off. I'm no canine psychologist, but I can learn by watching.

First, she carefully chooses where she likes to sleep. This is never the plush, pricey dog basket I bought her. It is the rug in front of the fire. Or the cushion tops on the sofa back. And she doesn't just plonk herself thoughtlessly down. As I watch closely I see she has a little ritual. She pads around before deciding. This may take a moment or two. She will paw the ground, sniff, then stretch, lowering the front of her body out on the ground with her hind up in the air, Down Dog style, before lying in one of her favourite positions:

- The Lion Pose, with paws stretched forward and head resting on her paws like a statue. In this position dogs tend to be dozing, rather than fast asleep

- The Side Sleep, at full stretch in a curve

- The Donut, curled in a ring

- The Superman, all four legs outstretched

- The Cuddle Bug, snuggled up to a human or another dog

Most dogs will sleep in more than one of these positions but, like Sophia, will have their favourites.

So, what does this teach me about my own sleep position?

I tend to be a Side Sleeper, rather than a Back Sleeper, but often get pins and needles in the hand and foot of the side I am laying. Might this habitual sleep position be causing a problem? Is it possible to change our sleep positions? It's worth exploring. And what part does mattress and pillow choice contribute to sleep position?

Babies will sometimes sleep in Lion Pose, or as it's known in yoga, Child's Pose (Balasana), but it's not for me, or probably many adults. Likewise, The Superman. I would fear suffocation laying spreadeagled face down. But considering the other positions does give food for thought.

The Cuddle Bug is very much down to individual preference. I have friends who have three dogs, and they all sleep on the same king size bed, despite its expensive Egyptian high thread count cotton sheets! Five in a bed! And my partner likes closeness, but I like space. So how might this be affecting my sleep pattern? Do I need more space? I have often thought I would sleep more soundly in my own bed. But, culturally, couples are 'expected' to sleep in the same bed. That level of intimacy is seen as a 'good' thing. Would a request for my own bed space be regarded as a sign of relationship difficulties?

The Donut position dogs favour is seen as stemming from a desire to feel warm and safe and might be seen as being like the Foetal Position for humans. Back when we lived in caves we were at our most vulnerable when we were asleep. In the modern age, in a good neighbourhood, with locks and alarms, we are usually safer. But even so, how often are we woken by a strange noise, our heart thumping wildly as we hold our breath to try and make out the cause. Also, the day's events, life concerns and bad dreams can all contribute to feeling less than safe, even if momentarily. So, might I be trying to sleep with unresolved feelings of vulnerability?

And what about that sniffing? Humans don't go around sniffing their sleeping space, do they?

Errrr, yes we do! Maybe not as obviously as a dog, but we are sentient beings, and our senses take in information all the time. Think about the scent of freshly laundered bed linen. Doesn't that make us feel good? And what about the diffuser? Is that a relaxing lavender or bergamot blend of essential oil, or an air freshener that would be better off in the bathroom? And the floor-drobe, where the day's clothes are discarded and even left for a day or two (or more)? The carpet and curtains? Dogs are renowned for being quite partial to less than pleasant smells. but humans are usually not. All these things are giving off scents, which may or may not be contributing to a good sleep environment.

And what about that environment? It's the bedroom, right? That's where we sleep. But at my worst moments, on nights when I really can't doze off, I find myself walking around the house like Goldilocks, trying the bed in the spare room, the sofa, even a sleeping bag on the floor in an attempt to get to sleep. But at no point have I ever considered Feng Shui, a philosophy that holds the bedroom as the most important room of the home. Some suggestions may not be practical but are still worth considering. Feng Shui advises against having your bed directly in line with the doors, especially avoiding the “coffin position,” where the feet point out the door! You should see the oak veneer doors on my clothes closet. Straight out of Phillip Larkin's poem Aubade, where death stands 'plain as a wardrobe'! On a less morbid note, Feng Shui advises decluttering the sleeping space, particularly removing items that are associated with leaving or moving, such as shoes or suitcases, or letters from past lovers!

But back to being more 'dog', and the observation of ritual.

For Sophia, ritual, as far as I can tell, is all about getting comfortable to sleep. For me, bedtime ritual is mainly about going to the loo, cleaning my teeth, and setting an alarm. But I am a Reiki practitioner! I well know the benefits of cleansing energies, deep breathing, meditation--all the things I use at times to help others. And Reiki was originally developed by Mikao Usui, a Tendai Buddhist, as a method of self-healing for the Japanese Imperial Guard--warriors who could not always get help on the battlefield. So why do I not include this practice as part of my bedtime ritual?

New Year's Eve is a time when we are conditioned to look to the future, to see the old year end and new year beginning as an opportunity for a new start. In many ways, this new start is symbolic. In reality, we could all make a resolution to look after ourselves better from tomorrow, or right now, which would be even better. Epiphanies come in all shapes and sizes and via many channels. Watching my dog just being herself provided the clarity I needed at a time when resolutions about better living were on the agenda.

We are now two weeks into 2022 and, for once, my New Year resolution is holding strong. I spoke to my partner about my need for more sleeping space and far from it being an issue, we used the January sales to buy two single beds with mattresses that suited us as individuals. The beds are pushed together--which keeps a closeness--but with our own bed covers, and the feeling of space is amazing.

I've given the room an early spring clean and thrown out the old diffuser that had been gathering dust on the chest of drawers. We changed the coffin-like oak veneer wardrobe doors which our bed faced and replaced these with fabric to match the light coloured curtains. I threw out the old lime, basil and mandarin diffuser and made up a lavender, bergamot, and sweet basil essential oil blend.

I'm still working on my pre-sleep ritual, experimenting with different combinations. As part of this process, I've started a sleep journal. In the past I've noticed that I am particularly restless around a full moon, and sleep can be nigh on impossible. The journal will help record any patterns.

I made all these changes just over a week ago, and I am feeling far more refreshed when I wake in the morning. Getting to sleep has been easier and I am waking less during the night. Even better, I have found that I am paying more attention to my day-to-day environment and the ways that I live in it.

Like any resolution, my sleep maintenance needs to be attended to regularly. The tidying and clearing have become habitual already, and I enjoy experimenting with different essential oil blends for relaxation. But perhaps the most rewarding part of this new way of being is my bedtime ritual. I carry out the essential tasks as usual, but then, instead of going straight to bed, I take ten minutes out. Not to meditate. That I do during the day. Instead, I go back into the lounge and sit quietly.

Just watching Sophia.