That Sadistic Productivity Mojo

Every so often, I'm able to trick my body into functioning on less than seven or eight hours sleep. During these spells, my productivity intoxicates me. I read more, write more, practice my guitar more, even exercise more. The more I get to, the more I continue to get to. And sometimes I briefly succeed in convincing myself I'm about to become one of those folks who will heretofore need far less sleep than the average person, i.e. I've found a domain where I can step off the bell curve.

Unfortunately, the inevitable crash is usually close by. My body searches for what it needs and soon after a two or three day burst - during which I may have gotten to several long-delayed projects as well as deluded myself that I'm hot on Mozart's trail - the next few days are plagued by naps. If I then masochistically tally my weekly sleep total - for example, as I did when my most recent productivity jag had me in a grip - I'm right back on the bell curve. Shit.

A few years back, with respect to hours of sleep, a wise reader coached me to resist fighting what my body needs. I suspect his suggestion would be easier to implement if my productivity mojo never dangled those hot flashes in front of me.