Real possession, or bat-shit crazy?
You decide.


Demon-Face-HD-585x306.jpg

The Terrifying Exorcism of Anneliese Michel


Throughout the world and across cultures, humans have long had a belief in the existence of demons, devils, and dark spirits.
These entities may take different forms and abilities depending on the religion or culture, but one thing that remains consistent is their dark malice, and their desire to inflict harm and strife upon the living.

One of the commonly held ways that the evil spirits of the world seek to impact themselves upon our reality is through possession; invading a living person for the purpose of taking control of the body.

The belief in spirit possession is a widespread feature found throughout a range of disparate religions, including major ones such as Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, and Judaism, all the way down to more obscure faiths like Haiitian Voodoo, Wicca, numerous African religions, and many others.

These religions have throughout the centuries taken measures to protect themselves from such insidious violations of the body and to deter or drive the malevolent spirits out through the use of numerous prayers, wards, charms, rites, and rituals.

One of the methods of defense against sinister supernatural entities that is perhaps the most well-known and widely practiced of these is the ancient practice known as exorcism, which is a concerted attempt to forcibly extract the spirit or demon.

Although the common perception of exorcism may be of a purely Catholic construct, it is in fact prominent in many cultures, and is practiced in pretty much every religion that holds the belief of spiritual possession.

The exact methods of exorcisms can vary significantly across different faiths, and may be as simple as commanding a spirit to leave or reciting an incantation, or be more sophisticated, entailing elaborate rites and rituals, yet all seek the same final goal of ejecting the invading spirit from their living host or sometimes even a place.


For anyone who has ever seen the film The Exorcist, it may be apparent that exorcisms do not always go according to plan.
This is actually very true.

In some cases, the process can be a long and arduous one, taking a physical, mental, and spiritual toll on both the victim and the one attempting to evict the offending spirit.
In fact, it is not unheard of for exorcisms to go terribly wrong, resulting in failure and sometimes even lasting physical and mental trauma, or sometimes even death.

One of the most mysterious, chilling, and indeed terrifying of these failed rituals was performed in 1975 on a girl by the name of Anneliese Michel, and it remains to this day one of the most harrowing and unexplainable exorcisms in history.

Anneliese Michel was born on 21 September 1952, in Leiblfing, Bavaria, West Germany, and was raised in a family of extremely devout Catholics, which consisted of three sisters and her parents.

Anneliese had a tough childhood.
One of her sisters had been born an illegitimate child four years before her birth, which was a source of scandal and shame in such a deeply religious family, and beset the mother with heavy feelings of guilt.

When the older sister died at the age of eight, Anneliese spent a large amount of time withdrawn from others in penance, trying to repent for her mother and absolve her of sin.

In 1968, when Anneliese was 16 years old, she experienced a sudden and violent seizure.
Her family took her to a doctor for an examination, and it was determined by a neurologist that she suffered from temporal lobe epilepsy.

She was given medication and sent on her way.
Anneliese tried to keep up a normal life despite her condition, and continued her studies at school but her medication was not working and in time she suffered from more convulsive fits.

She was prescribed increasingly powerful anti-convulsive medications but nothing seemed to have an effect.
Additionally, she became more morose and withdrawn than before, and was taken for a psychiatric evaluation, where she was diagnosed as being depressive.

The depression worsened to the point where she became suicidal, and she spent some time in a psychiatric hospital for treatment.
As with the seizures, treatment for her depression seemed to do little to alleviate her condition.

Anneliese Michel in better days

Things only got worse for Anneliese as time went on. In addition to the seizures and depression she suffered, she began to complain of seeing visions while praying which greatly disturbed her and caused a good deal of mental anguish.

These visions were only the beginning of more problems to come.
Anneliese began to hear disembodied voices at various times of the day, which started out as distant and indistinct but gradually became as clear as somebody standing next to her.

Often these voices commanded her to do things, and at other times they berated or threatened her.
She also started to have vivid hallucinations of seeing what she called “devil faces,” that would suddenly pop into sight right before her eyes without warning.

Psychiatric treatment did nothing to stop the hallucinations, and Anneliese and her family grew wary of seeking medical help.
In time, Anneliese, who had always been deeply religious, started to demonstrate an aversion to religious places and imagery such as the crucifix.

On one pilgrimage to San Damiano, she was unable to walk past a crucifix and refused to drink water from a holy spring.
A family friend on the pilgrimage with her took note of this and also noticed that she a very strange and unpleasant smell about her, upon which she recommended the family consult a priest.

Annelies’s devoutly religious family, already exasperated by the lack of results from the medical community, became convinced that their daughter was being possessed by either a demon or even The Devil himself.

Anneliese’s family took her to several priests for a consultation, but did not get the reception they had been expecting.
The priests told them to take Anneliese back to a hospital for medical treatment, exactly the thing that had had no effect at all up to that point.

When the family objected to this and pleaded for their help, the priests told them that in order to have an exorcism done, they would need to convince the Catholic Church that it was indeed demonic possession and then get permission from the bishop.

Only if they could meet the strict guidelines set by the church for determining possession would they ever be granted an exorcism.
The frustrated family continued to try and find a priest who would listen, but were repeatedly turned away and told the same thing.



Although that was apparently the end of the discussion for most priests, one pastor by the name of Ernst Alt was intrigued by the family’s story and decided to investigate out of curiosity.

He met with Anneliese and over the course of his observations became convinced that she was not epileptic and was indeed under the influence of demonic forces.
Alt began writing impassioned letters to the bishop begging him to consider an exorcism.

After much hesitation, Bishop Josef Stangl eventually agreed to allow an exorcism on the condition of total secrecy, and in 1975 sent a priest by the name of Arnold Renz to aide Alt in this task.

The exorcism officially began on September 24, 1975.
Surely when the two priests arrived on the darkened doorstep of the Michel’s evil infected home they were completely unaware that this day would mark the beginning of a terrifying 10 month ordeal that would ultimately end in Anneliese’s death.

Upon Renz’s arrival, he quickly agreed with Alt and the family that Anneliese was indeed possessed and began the rituals for the exorcism.
It would be the first of many attempts.

Much to the surprise of everyone present, Anneliese claimed that it was not one spirit that possessed her, but many, with Judas, Nero, Hitler, Cain, Lucifer, among others, all mentioned as inhabiting her body.

During the exorcisms, one of the ways Anneliese used to try and gain some amount of control over the evil forces tormenting her was to perform hundreds of genuflections, meaning that she inflicted bodily harm on herself through self-flogging.

She did this to such a grievous extent that on some occasions it was necessary for someone to hold her upright when she became too weak to stand on her own.
Anneliese was not forced to perform this barbaric deed.

She did it willingly in a sincere effort to loosen the grip of the demons roiling within her.




As little effect as her medication had proven to have on Anneliese’s mental deterioration, it very soon became clear that the exorcisms were making it worse to a shocking degree.

She reportedly urinated and defecated on the floor regularly, and was prone to licking up her own urine.
Ranting profanity and maniacal insults hurled at all present were not uncommon.

Additionally, in her less lucid moments, when she was most under the influence of the evil spirits within her, Anneliese would growl and snarl like a wild animal.
Religious imagery and icons would cause her to fly into an animalistic fury, and one time she spent two days under the kitchen table, barking like a dog and refusing to come out.

It got to the point that her own family was too frightened to go anywhere near her, and so it was mostly the priests left alone with her most of the time during their rituals, which would last 4 hours or more and were performed once or twice a week.

Anneliese also allegedly would speak in long dead languages that she could not have possibly known on her own and demonstrate knowledge of information she had no business knowing.

This went on for months, and a total of 67 exorcisms were performed on the girl, each time ending in failure and total exhaustion for the priests.
Towards the end, Anneliese refused to eat, and became an emaciated wraith, a mere husk of the pretty girl she had once been.

She came to resign herself to her inevitable fate, and was said to mumble of “dying to atone for the wayward youth of the day and the apostate priests of the modern church.”

On July 1[SUP]st[/SUP], 1976, after 10 months of failed exorcisms, Anneliese passed away in her home.
At the time of death, she weighed a slight 68 pounds.

An autopsy performed on the body determined that the cause of death had been malnutrition and dehydration, and it was also found that she had been suffering from pneumonia.
An investigation was launched into the circumstances surrounding the girl’s death, and the two priests, Alt and Renz, were questioned about what had happened.

The state determined that Anneliese’s death had been preventable and that the two priests had failed to do anything to stop it, thus Alt and Renz were put on trial on March 30, 1978.






Anneliese Michel towards the end of her exorcism

The trial, with its spooky underpinnings and talk of ancient Catholic exorcism rites, drew intense interest from the public.
The affair was disturbing for most present. 47 of the exorcism sessions had been recorded on audio, and the court was subjected to recordings of the deceased girl snarling, growling, and vomiting forth obscenities.

One of the tapes even included a recording of what was said to be two demons arguing with each other, both of them talking through Anneliese’s mouth, but with distinctly different voices and timbres.

In addition, various pieces of photographic evidence were presented that showed Anneliese looking shockingly ill, her eyes sunk deep within her sockets and with bruises and seeping sores covering her face and body.

Her knees had also been broken as a result of the constant, savage genuflections.
This damaged, ghoulish appearance was in stark contrast to the pretty, vibrant looking girl Anneliese had been before the horror had started.

The priests were defended by lawyers sent by the church, who argued that exorcism was perfectly legal and that the law gave citizens the right to religious freedom.
They additionally sought to show that the girl had displayed obvious signs of actually being possessed.

For their part, Alt and Renz claimed that Anneliese had finally been freed of the evil inhabiting her right before her death.
This whole defense argument clashed wildly with the prosecution’s case, which opted for a more rational and scientific approach.

The prosecution brought in doctors who testified that all of the symptoms shown by Anneliese could easily be explained by a combination of epilepsy, mental illness, and a fanatical level of religious belief.

In the end, it was decided that whatever the actual cause of Anneliese’s condition, the priests had not done enough to help her when her health had deteriorated so badly, and so they were convicted of manslaughter resulting from negligence.

The sentencing was much lighter than anyone had ever thought possible.
Each priest was sentenced to a mere 6 months in jail and 3 months of probation, with the jail terms later being suspended.






Father Renz during the trial

The end of the trial did not mark the end of the strangeness surrounding the case.
In the aftermath of the trial, Anneliese’s body was exhumed at the behest of her parents, as she had been buried in a cheap coffin and had not really had a proper burial.

Those who believe that Anneliese had in fact been possessed claim that her body had not decomposed nearly as much as it should have after so much time had passed in the ground, and one nun even reported that she had had a vision of the girl’s fully intact body, but medical experts who examined the corpse said the rate of decay was normal.

Nevertheless, authorities refused to allow Alt or Renz to view the remains, and some believe this is because they would have seen that the body had in fact not decayed.
The mysterious exhumed remains were placed in a new oak coffin lined with tin and buried again in February 25, 1978.

In another bizarre turn of events, a fire broke out at the Michel house in 2013, and although authorities said it was a simple case of arson, others believe it was the result of some evil still permeating the home.

The creepy case of the exorcism of Anneliese Michel has become an enduring mystery that many hold up as an example of genuine demonic possession to this day.
It has garnered a good amount of fame and has been an influence on several movies, including The Exorcism of Emily Rose.

What happened to Anneliese Michel?
Was this young woman really invaded by evil spirits and demons, or was this merely an example of severe mental illness coupled with devout religiousness?

Whether or not one believes in the existence of literal demons, or their ability to possess the living, it seems clear that there are at least things every bit as ancient, dark, and evil lurking within the human psyche.


[video=youtube;-4xiT67GrbY]https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=-4xiT67GrbY[/video]​
 
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...
The final words go to Tim Swartz, who says in his report:

“We are left to wonder if this is a cycle that we are all trapped within. Like prehistoric insects frozen forever within drops of amber. Doomed to repeat the mistakes of those who came before, arising from the dust and sending ourselves back, again and again for eternity.”


I knew of most of the ideas discussed - but not the one about slagged ancient cities in India.

Tim Swartz's final words are interesting.... When I read them I instantly saw the moving flowing Torus of a galaxy in my mind's eye. In a way - he's right. We do arise from dust and send ourselves back to dust....as a metaphor for the endless flow of Source Energy.
In the last 2.5 years I have read and heard much about Earth's history that would make your eyebrows pop up and off your face. :scared: I've finally come to the conclusion there have been several galactic races who have come here - built civilizations - and then gone through the ascension process. There have indeed been wars....experiments with catastrophic results....and diabolical plots and subterfuge. One ancient civilization from 200K years ago was Lemuria which embodied the Feminine Energy. It was out of balance with the Masculine Energy. Later came the Atlantean age and it was predominately Masculine Energy which we have arrived at the end of that age. It too was out of balance.
Now comes the time for both Feminine and Masculine Energies to be in balance with each other.
Now comes the time for humans to ascend up in frequency while still being in the human body.
Now comes the time for Gaia - mother Earth - to shift up in frequency.
Now comes the time for our Solar System and our Galaxy to shift up in frequency.

We are done with the endless cycles of dust to dust doomed to repeat life after life enduring the misery and pain. We've had enough. Earth has had enough. She is now in the process of releasing the old lower denser energies of pain and fear that have accumulated over the eons....and some relate to the wars and destruction waged upon and within her from past civilizations. That's why we're seeing so much war and mania everywhere now. It's got to be felt and released. It's like a car engine running even though there's not much gas left in the tank. Once it's empty there is still gasoline in the lines and cylinders to give the engine it's momentum until it sputters out.

Look around....do you see a country that's sputtering out? Beating the drum but no one dances? Rings the clarion bell of war and no one comes?

:D :D ....i dooooo.....hahahahahahahaha
 
Why are all dinosaur bones radioactive?
 
I knew of most of the ideas discussed - but not the one about slagged ancient cities in India.

Tim Swartz's final words are interesting.... When I read them I instantly saw the moving flowing Torus of a galaxy in my mind's eye. In a way - he's right. We do arise from dust and send ourselves back to dust....as a metaphor for the endless flow of Source Energy.
In the last 2.5 years I have read and heard much about Earth's history that would make your eyebrows pop up and off your face. :scared: I've finally come to the conclusion there have been several galactic races who have come here - built civilizations - and then gone through the ascension process. There have indeed been wars....experiments with catastrophic results....and diabolical plots and subterfuge. One ancient civilization from 200K years ago was Lemuria which embodied the Feminine Energy. It was out of balance with the Masculine Energy. Later came the Atlantean age and it was predominately Masculine Energy which we have arrived at the end of that age. It too was out of balance.
Now comes the time for both Feminine and Masculine Energies to be in balance with each other.
Now comes the time for humans to ascend up in frequency while still being in the human body.
Now comes the time for Gaia - mother Earth - to shift up in frequency.
Now comes the time for our Solar System and our Galaxy to shift up in frequency.

We are done with the endless cycles of dust to dust doomed to repeat life after life enduring the misery and pain. We've had enough. Earth has had enough. She is now in the process of releasing the old lower denser energies of pain and fear that have accumulated over the eons....and some relate to the wars and destruction waged upon and within her from past civilizations. That's why we're seeing so much war and mania everywhere now. It's got to be felt and released. It's like a car engine running even though there's not much gas left in the tank. Once it's empty there is still gasoline in the lines and cylinders to give the engine it's momentum until it sputters out.

Look around....do you see a country that's sputtering out? Beating the drum but no one dances? Rings the clarion bell of war and no one comes?

:D :D ....i dooooo.....hahahahahahahaha

I don’t see why it isn’t feasible.
I couldn’t agree more in regards to our country sputtering out…just like Rome.
You cannot fight everlasting war around the world without it negatively effecting us…even with our war-based economy that the US has…it is unsustainable.
I still have high hopes for humanity…I think more people are waking up…they are realizing they are slaves to a small minority group who hoard the money and resources.
People don’t necessarily want to be rich, I believe most do not…they just want to be happy…they want to go to college without going into debt…they want a job that pays them a wage and benefits that shows they are appreciated (if they can find one)…they want to afford a place to live…a car…groceries…they want security, as in - if you get sick you don’t have to file bankruptcy…they want time to enjoy the fruits of their labor…have children who don’t have to live impoverished…you know, what we consider normal life stuff.
But all those things are being crushed under the weight of greed…not just in the US…I mean worldwide…why is Hong Kong protesting? People are beginning to stand up for themselves…there is no reason why Bill Gates should be worth $80 BILLION…do you have any idea how many people we could help with that much money? And that is just one of these guys…it’s almost like people wanted to get fucked over. Our gross stupidity and greed lead us down this path…now I fear it is too late without something drastic and violent happening…hopefully I am wrong.

Personally, I’m running out of steam…this arthritis is kicking my ass….I’m considering filing for disability…I can’t keep hurting myself by pushing it.
I hope something changes one way or the other soon.
 
Moreover, carbon dating depends on measuring how much carbon 14 has decayed, and since living animals and plants get carbon 14 naturally as a byproduct of the environment (which is what allows carbon dating to work - it is something constantly present in certain ratios) it could be concluded that not only are dinosaur bones radioactive, but so are all other bones that could be carbon dated, and that younger bones are more radioactive since they have more C14 (carbon dating looks for the decay of C14 therefore older objects will have less of it)
 
Moreover, carbon dating depends on measuring how much carbon 14 has decayed, and since living animals and plants get carbon 14 naturally as a byproduct of the environment (which is what allows carbon dating to work - it is something constantly present in certain ratios) it could be concluded that not only are dinosaur bones radioactive, but so are all other bones that could be carbon dated, and that younger bones are more radioactive since they have more C14 (carbon dating looks for the decay of C14 therefore older objects will have less of it)
Yes…I got that.
He is implying that the dinosaurs died by some means that left them radioactive. ( I think? )
 
Yes…I got that.
He is implying that the dinosaurs died by some means that left them radioactive. ( I think? )

Yes but this answers his question without addressing that implication. The dinosaurs already were radioactive. If he wants to imply that something made them more radioactive than usual then he will have to ask a new question. And it'll need to be a good one.

Edit: also most of the time, the 'bones' aren't bones. They're fossils of bones. The organic tissue becomes mineralized. Some fossils actually are unusually radioactive because during the fossilization process they may become doped with contaminants such as uranium. This is unusual though. Most fossils are not significantly more radioactive than normal objects.
 
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God of the Gaps.

[video=youtube;4IzHxftS8MI]https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=4IzHxftS8MI[/video]​
 

God of the Gaps.

[video=youtube;4IzHxftS8MI]https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=4IzHxftS8MI[/video]​

That was interesting, but I don't have the same interest in Neil deGrass as the internet does. He can a bit too much like Richard Dawkins in regard to non-scientific topics. In that he's opposed to alternative investigation into nature.

Still, he's a charming, intelligent guy so I can understand why he's so beloved.
 
That was interesting, but I don't have the same interest in Neil deGrass as the internet does. He can a bit too much like Richard Dawkins in regard to non-scientific topics. In that he's opposed to alternative investigation into nature.

Still, he's a charming, intelligent guy so I can understand why he's so beloved.
I actually put it up because I’m a Neil Gaiman fan…I agree with your statement about DeGrass and Dawkins…they are so far on the side of science that IMO they overlook a great deal.
 
1385856_937804136240598_1366969993329833238_n.png


A pretty cool info graphic.
 
I posted a story about this way back near the beginning of this thread…this one has some additional info.
Enjoy!


Your Ancestors Didn’t Sleep Like You — Are We Doing It Wrong?
sleep.jpeg




Evidence continues to emerge, both scientific and historical, suggesting that the way in which the majority of us currently sleep may not actually be good for us.

In 2001, historian Roger Ekirch of Virginia Tech published a paper that included over 15 years of research.
It revealed an overwhelming amount of historical evidence that humans used to in fact sleep in two different chunks. (1)

In 2005, he published a book titled “At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past,” that included more than 500 references to a disjointed sleeping pattern.
It included diaries, medical books, literature and more taken from various sources which include Homer’s Odyssey all the way to modern tribes in Nigeria and more.

“It’s not just the number of references — it is the way they refer to it, as if it was common knowledge.” —
Ekrich (source)

What Was Found In The Research

Ekirch’s research found that we didn’t always sleep for an average of 8 hours straight.
Instead we would sleep in two shorter periods throughout the night.

All sleep would occur within a 12 hour time frame that started with 3 or 4 hours of sleep, followed by being awake for 3 hours or so and than sleeping again until the morning.
There was also some research done in the early 1990′s by psychiatrist Thomas Wehr.

He conducted an experiment where 14 people were put into complete darkness for 14 hours a day for an entire month.
By the fourth week the participants were able to settle into a very distinct sleeping pattern.

The pattern was the same as Ekirch suggested of how we were meant to sleep; the subjects slept for approximately 4 hours, woke for another few and then went back to sleep until morning. (2)

“Ekirch found that references to the first and second sleep started to disappear during the late 17th Century.
This started among the urban upper classes in northern Europe and over the course of the next 200 years filtered down to the rest of Western society.
By the 1920′s the idea of a first and second sleep had receded entirely from our social consciousness.”
(source)

Possible Reasons As To Why It Was Like This

One reason could be that this type of segmented sleep is what really comes natural to the human body, at least that’s what Wehr’s experiment suggests, but there are other theories.

Historian Craig Koslofsky suggests:

“Associations with night before the 17th Century were not good.
The night was a place populated by people of disrepute — criminals, prostitutes and drunks.
Even the wealthy, who could afford candlelight, had better things to spend their money on.
There was no prestige or social value associated with staying up all night.”
(source)

Things changed, however, in 1667 when Paris became the first city in the world to light its streets, and eventually throughout Europe staying up at night became the social norm, and then the industrial revolution happened:

“People were becoming increasingly time-conscious and sensitive to efficiency, certainly before the 19th Century, but the industrial revolution intensified that attitude by leaps and bounds.”
(source)

Eventually, we got to the point where parents were forcing their children to sleep at a certain time, and forced them out of the segmented sleeping pattern that was more dominant.

Many Sleeping Problems May Have Roots In The Human Body’s Natural Preference For Segmented Sleep


Ekirch believes that many modern day sleeping problems have roots in the human body’s natural preference for segmented sleep.
He believes that our historical sleeping patterns could be the reason why many people suffer from a condition called “sleep maintenance insomnia,” where individuals wake in the middle of the night and have trouble getting back to sleep.

This type of condition first appeared at the end of the 19th century, approximately the same time segmented sleep began to die off.

For most of evolution we slept a certain way.
Waking up during the night is part of normal human physiology
.
The idea that we must sleep in a consolidated block could be damaging, he says, if it makes people who wake up at night anxious, as this anxiety can itself prohibit sleep and is likely to seep into waking life too.” - Psychologist Greg Jacobs (source)

According to Russell Foster, a professor of circadian [body clock] neuroscience at Oxford:

Many people wake up at night and panic. I tell them that what they are experiencing is a throwback to the bi-modal sleep pattern.
But the majority of doctors still fail to acknowledge that a consolidated eight-hour sleep may be unnatural.
Over 30% of the medical problems that doctors are faced with stem directly or indirectly from sleep.
But sleep has been ignored in medical training and there are very few centers where sleep is studied
.” (source)

As far as what people did during this in between time of wakefulness, Ekirch’s research suggests that they primarily used the time to meditate on their dreams, read, pray or partake in spiritual practices.

Sources
:
(1)http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-16964783
(2)http://www.nytimes.com/1995/03/14/science/modern-life-suppresses-an-ancient-body-rhythm.html?scp=6&sq=dr%20thomas%20wehr&st=cse&pagewanted=all
http://slumberwise.com/science/your-ancestors-didnt-sleep-like-you/


 
I posted a story about this way back near the beginning of this thread…this one has some additional info.
Enjoy!


Your Ancestors Didn’t Sleep Like You – Are We Doing It Wrong?
sleep.jpeg




Evidence continues to emerge, both scientific and historical, suggesting that the way in which the majority of us currently sleep may not actually be good for us.

In 2001, historian Roger Ekirch of Virginia Tech published a paper that included over 15 years of research.
It revealed an overwhelming amount of historical evidence that humans used to in fact sleep in two different chunks. (1)

In 2005, he published a book titled “At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past,” that included more than 500 references to a disjointed sleeping pattern.
It included diaries, medical books, literature and more taken from various sources which include Homer’s Odyssey all the way to modern tribes in Nigeria and more.

“It’s not just the number of references – it is the way they refer to it, as if it was common knowledge.” –
Ekrich (source)

What Was Found In The Research

Ekirch’s research found that we didn’t always sleep for an average of 8 hours straight.
Instead we would sleep in two shorter periods throughout the night.

All sleep would occur within a 12 hour time frame that started with 3 or 4 hours of sleep, followed by being awake for 3 hours or so and than sleeping again until the morning.
There was also some research done in the early 1990′s by psychiatrist Thomas Wehr.

He conducted an experiment where 14 people were put into complete darkness for 14 hours a day for an entire month.
By the fourth week the participants were able to settle into a very distinct sleeping pattern.

The pattern was the same as Ekirch suggested of how we were meant to sleep; the subjects slept for approximately 4 hours, woke for another few and then went back to sleep until morning. (2)

“Ekirch found that references to the first and second sleep started to disappear during the late 17th Century.
This started among the urban upper classes in northern Europe and over the course of the next 200 years filtered down to the rest of Western society.
By the 1920′s the idea of a first and second sleep had receded entirely from our social consciousness.”
(source)

Possible Reasons As To Why It Was Like This

One reason could be that this type of segmented sleep is what really comes natural to the human body, at least that’s what Wehr’s experiment suggests, but there are other theories.

Historian Craig Koslofsky suggests:

“Associations with night before the 17th Century were not good.
The night was a place populated by people of disrepute – criminals, prostitutes and drunks.
Even the wealthy, who could afford candlelight, had better things to spend their money on.
There was no prestige or social value associated with staying up all night.”
(source)

Things changed, however, in 1667 when Paris became the first city in the world to light its streets, and eventually throughout Europe staying up at night became the social norm, and then the industrial revolution happened:

“People were becoming increasingly time-conscious and sensitive to efficiency, certainly before the 19th Century, but the industrial revolution intensified that attitude by leaps and bounds.”
(source)

Eventually, we got to the point where parents were forcing their children to sleep at a certain time, and forced them out of the segmented sleeping pattern that was more dominant.

Many Sleeping Problems May Have Roots In The Human Body’s Natural Preference For Segmented Sleep


Ekirch believes that many modern day sleeping problems have roots in the human body’s natural preference for segmented sleep.
He believes that our historical sleeping patterns could be the reason why many people suffer from a condition called “sleep maintenance insomnia,” where individuals wake in the middle of the night and have trouble getting back to sleep.

This type of condition first appeared at the end of the 19th century, approximately the same time segmented sleep began to die off.

For most of evolution we slept a certain way.
Waking up during the night is part of normal human physiology
.
The idea that we must sleep in a consolidated block could be damaging, he says, if it makes people who wake up at night anxious, as this anxiety can itself prohibit sleep and is likely to seep into waking life too.” - Psychologist Greg Jacobs (source)

According to Russell Foster, a professor of circadian [body clock] neuroscience at Oxford:

Many people wake up at night and panic. I tell them that what they are experiencing is a throwback to the bi-modal sleep pattern.
But the majority of doctors still fail to acknowledge that a consolidated eight-hour sleep may be unnatural.
Over 30% of the medical problems that doctors are faced with stem directly or indirectly from sleep.
But sleep has been ignored in medical training and there are very few centers where sleep is studied
.” (source)

As far as what people did during this in between time of wakefulness, Ekirch’s research suggests that they primarily used the time to meditate on their dreams, read, pray or partake in spiritual practices.

Sources
:
(1)http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-16964783
(2)http://www.nytimes.com/1995/03/14/science/modern-life-suppresses-an-ancient-body-rhythm.html?scp=6&sq=dr%20thomas%20wehr&st=cse&pagewanted=all
http://slumberwise.com/science/your-ancestors-didnt-sleep-like-you/



This is really strange because recently I have found myself doing this. Not all the time. My work schedule isnt set so when I work late the next day I will generally wake very early, do some stuff and then go back to sleep for a few hours.
 
This is really strange because recently I have found myself doing this. Not all the time. My work schedule isnt set so when I work late the next day I will generally wake very early, do some stuff and then go back to sleep for a few hours.
Here is the original article I posted containing a lot more information. This is how we are meant to sleep…but because of electricity, our circadian rhythms are all messed up.
http://www.infjs.com/forums/showthread.php?t=27025&p=714752&viewfull=1#post714752
 
Perdition Days: On Experiencing Psychosis
Esmé Weijun Wang




Let’s note that I write this while experiencing psychosis, and that much of this has been written during a strain of psychosis known as Cotard’s delusion, in which the patient believes that she is dead. What the writer’s confused state means to either of us is not beside the point, because it is the point. The point is that I am in here, somewhere: cogito ergo sum.
*
In October 2013 I attended a speakers’ training at the Mental Health Association of San Francisco. As a new hire at the bureau, I would begin, in 2014, to deliver anti-stigma talks for schools, government agencies, and other organizations around the city. Part of this training included a lesson on appropriate language use – to say, “person with bipolar disorder,” or “person living with bipolar disorder,” or “person with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder,” instead of “bipolar” as predicate adjective. We speakers were told that we are not our disease, our diseases. We are instead individuals with disorders and malfunctions. Our conditions lie over us like smallpox blankets; we are one thing, and the illness is another, just as a person with cancer is not a “cancer” herself, but a person who has had, through misfortune, a condition at the cellular level.
This hypothetical person with cancer is still the same person. This person with cancer will die or go into remission or be cured of the unwanted guest.
Of course, the unwanted guests are her own cells.

I had endured the longest period of psychosis of my life earlier that year, from February through August, and after trying every atypical, i.e. new-generation, antipsychotic on the market, I began taking Haldol, a vintage antipsychotic, which cleared my delusions until November 4th. On that morning, I looked at the antique sewing table in my office, seeing red wood without seeing it, and felt the old anxiety of unreality. The full delusion would not come until a day later, but I knew what this meant; to look at the table and suddenly realize that the past few weeks were not simply feeling “scattered,” as I repeatedly told others, but were pre-psychosis signals and warnings.

Such signals seem ordinary to other people, and were ordinary to myself. I was unhappy with my studio, so I rearranged the desk and wallpapered the far wall with gold peonies. Other signals were more foundational to my concept of Self and addressed existential queries, which may have been a more obvious sign of distress: I was unsure about my foundational values, so I reread Danielle LaPorte’s book, The Desire Map, and “discovered” my Core Desired Feelings; having connected with my Core Desired Feelings, I dutifully wrote them in multiple colors of Le Pen on a gridded sticky note for my Filofax; I initiated work with a friend and “functional Muse,” during which I began soul-searching about my relationship with writing and Art in general, referring repeatedly to the question, What is art, and what is its function?

All of this made sense in hindsight, as much as anything could make sense. In past psychotic episodes, my response has been to desperately assemble rituals or structures that will somehow ward off the anxiety of a psychotic fracture. To assemble the parts of my mind, which has begun to fall apart — to become “scatterbrained” — into cohesion. But analysis didn’t solve matters. Neither did the new dividers for my Filofax, or the five 2014 planners that I ordered, wrote in, and abandoned. Ritual, my therapist told me later, would help, but it was not the solution; there was no solution.
*
A young woman turns out to be the killer in Episode 10, titled “Buffet Froid,” of the television show “Hannibal.” It’s Dr. Hannibal who introduces Cotard’s delusion to Will, the protagonist of the show, and therefore the audience: “Have you considered Cotard’s syndrome? It’s a rare delusional disorder in which a person believes that he or she is dead… Even those closest to them seem like impostors.” The killer, named Georgia, has suffered from Cotard’s syndrome for years, and tore the face off one of her victims to presumably see what was beneath. At some point, when Will encounters her, he shouts, probably unhelpfully, “You’re alive!”

Cotard’s delusion is related to Capgras delusion. Both are rare, and affect the same regions of the brain. The person afflicted with the delusion is unable to process faces in an emotional manner; it is thought that this lack leads to a conclusion – with Capgras, that the person’s loved ones have been replaced by doubles (“invasion of the body-snatchers” and “reverse zombie syndrome” are two pop-journalism, unsubtle references to low-grade horror that have little to do with the actual horror of either of these delusions), and in Cotard’s, that the person is herself dead.

In the beginning of my own experience with Cotard’s delusion, I woke my husband before sunup. Daphne, our dog, stirred, began thumping her papillon-mutt tail against the bedsheets. I’d been in my studio, but now I was shaking my husband, and I was crying with joy.

“I’m dead,” I said, “and you’re dead, and Daphne is dead, but now I get to do it over. Don’t you see? I have a second chance. I can do better now.”
Chris said, gently, “I think you’re alive.”

But this statement, of course, meant nothing. It was his opinion, and I had my solid belief. I can state that the sky is green, but will you see it as such? I felt buoyant at the belief that I was getting a second chance in some kind of afterlife – it caused me to be kinder, to be more generous. I wasn’t irritated by problems with computer downloads. I was sweet to telemarketers. It was true that I was dead, but I believed it made sense to play-act normalcy, or rather, an improved version of normalcy, because of the additional belief that I was in an afterlife. According to the logic of my delusion, this afterlife was given to me because I hadn’t done enough to show compassion in my “real” life; and though I was now dead, my death was also an optimistic opportunity.

I tweeted to my followers, “What would you do if you were actually dead, and the life you were living right now was your second chance?”
It was a good hypothetical question, the kind of thing that a self-development junkie like me was apt to mention. But for me, it was true. I stayed with that perception for a single day before the delusion dimmed.
*


Dr. M, my psychiatrist, told me straightaway that we would not be adjusting medications. Increasing the Haldol, which had ended my prior psychotic episode, created the risk of severe anhedonia, known as the complete inability to experience pleasure, as well as tardive dyskinesia, which causes uncontrollable jerking movements that don’t stop when the medication is ended, and for which there is no cure. There would be no more trial-and-error merry-go-round of antipsychotics. Dr. L, my therapist, pointed out that delusions are harder to medicate away than hallucinations. My form of schizoaffective disorder was, Dr. M said, medication-resistant. Both agreed that the best course of action was for me to learn coping mechanisms and acceptance.

At some point, I stopped talking. I bent away from Dr. M in the maroon velvet chair.
Because Dr. L was present via conference call, Dr. M reported, “She’s frustrated,” while I sobbed over the back of the chair.

Dr. M mentioned a Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy for Psychosis group. As both a long-term consumer of the mental health industry and a former psychology researcher, I am overly familiar with CBT and its promises. Cognitive-behavioral therapy – also known as “therapy with homework” – operates on a systematized process of adjusting false cognitions and maladaptive behaviors. One favorite study, or series of studies, has shown that CBT can be as effective as antidepressants alone. Because of this, insurance companies love CBT; why spend years on the couch yammering about childhood and dreams, or paying for expensive drugs, when a dash of CBT could do the trick? CBT for Psychosis, as far as I gathered while crying, was designed to teach people who live long-term with psychotic symptom how to cope with said symptoms.
CBT for Psychosis may, in fact, be a lifesaving program. But at that appointment, I was convinced that I was dead, and I didn’t see how a technique built upon adjusting beliefs could help me extract myself from that conviction.

Any kind of therapy, in fact, felt to me like suggesting that I sit down and meditate in a burning building.
In previous episodes, Dr. M had suggested both hospitalization and electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). They were not mentioned now, presumably because neither made sense; hospitalization and ECT are offered as options for the journey toward getting better, and I was not going to get better.
*
The questions instead became about percentages:
What percentage of my life was going to be spent in psychosis.

What percentage of functioning could I expect, and what percentage of my life could be spent at 60%, as opposed to 5%. Dr. L told me that it was “unrealistic” to believe that I would ever be at 95%, or 100%, again, which is hard for an overachiever to hear.

What percentage of insight could I expect.
No one could, or can, answer these questions, of course.

Other questions: if I am psychotic 98% of the time, who am I? If I believe that I don’t exist, or that I am dead, does that not impact who I am? Who is this alleged “person” that is a “person living with psychosis,” once the psychosis has set in to the point that there is nothing on the table save acceptance?

When the self has been swallowed by illness, isn’t it cruelty to insist on a self that is not illness? Is this why so many people insist on believing in a soul?

From my journal, a list:

11:13 PM
I am Esmé.
I am a writer.
I have been married since 2009.
I have living parents.
I have a brother, who is married.
I am 5 ft. 4.
I was born in Michigan.
My birthday is June 8.
Flowers I love: ranunculus, peonies, sweet peas, jasmine, anemones.
If we had a girl, Chris wanted to name her Magnolia.
We had magnolias at our wedding.

*


I did ask for an electroconvulsive therapy appointment, otherwise known as the treatment of last resort, because the delusion now showed a sinister face that I found untenable. Whereas I’d once believed that I’d been gifted an optimistic afterlife, this shimmering notion was quickly replaced by the idea that I was in Perdition. In this scenario, I was doomed to wander forever in a world that was not mine, in a body that was not mine; I was doomed to be surrounded by creatures and so-called people that mimicked the lovely world that I’d once known, but were now fictions and could evoke no emotion in me. I spent much of my time in catatonic psychosis, a form of agitation characterized by overactive movement or no movement at all, and I lay in my bed feeling psychic agony more excruciating than any personal experience of physical pain.

My choice of the word “Perdition” is deliberate, because during this period of illness, I’d chosen to listen to the audiobook of Marilynne Robinson’s novel Home.
To purchase and then listen to Home involved some complicated decision-making. I’d been advised by my therapist months earlier to avoid fiction while delusional. This, after listening to the audiobook of The Yonahlassee Riding Camp for Girls by Anton DiSclafari had me disoriented and believing that I rode horses, was at a boarding school. Psychosis causes my reality to become a hodgepodge; the addition of fictional elements is more unnecessary fodder for the mix, and the content, as Chris and I learned during an ill-advised viewing of “Doctor Who,” can scramble and agitate me more than I already am scrambled and agitated.

But I purchased the audiobook of Home anyway. It is one of my favorite books, and one of the saddest books I’ve ever read — yet I didn’t care if I slipped into Gilead. I chose Home knowing that I would likely become merged with the fictional world there, and I did; I would leave my room surprised that I wasn’t stepping onto Ames’s front porch. If I had stepped onto that front porch, it would have been no more or less surprising than walking out the studio door and finding myself watching Glory make breakfast for a brother who didn’t know how to love her back. I figured that if I were going to be lost and wandering, I’d rather be lost in Gilead than anywhere else.
But the reality of Home, which spends a good deal of time wondering about the state of Jack Boughton’s soul, also brought the notion of Perdition to me. I latched onto that word. Having never been Christian, I still saw myself as being a soul in a state of eternal damnation because I couldn’t otherwise explain what had happened to me.

*

During the “Perdition days,” which had no rhythm to them, I could not summon the motivation to do anything. I would not eat. I often would not move. I would not attempt to read or answer an email or have a conversation, because there is no point to doing anything when in Perdition. Instead, there is only horror, and a physical agitation that refuses to manifest physically for lack of motivation.

There was the question of What to Wear to My Electroconvulsive Therapy Consult, which would take place at The University of California San Francisco. If I looked too pulled-together for the consult, I figured, I wouldn’t be able to convey that too much of the time I was suffering from psychic torture. If I looked like a mess, I might end up institutionalized, and I’d had enough experience with psychiatric hospitals to know that I didn’t want or need hospitalization.

Unless catatonic, I do wear red lipstick – I only have one tube of lipstick, called Narcotic Rouge – and Chanel foundation. I do have short platinum hair. I do wear eyelash extensions. I often go for months without showering, but I do not look disheveled. Friends text me for style advice. I have modeled – not professionally, or well, but I have done it. I tend to look superficially good under bad circumstances.

Having lost 30+ pounds in the last year (40, by the end of the following week), I’d adopted the hyperbolically named “French ingenue” uniform. In what was a profoundly lazy, but effective, look, I shimmied into V-neck white t-shirts and black pants, or the same V-neck t-shirts and a black pencil skirt with calf-high socks. I sold or donated everything else, much of it acquired when I was a fashion writer and still holding down a full-time desk job: a flutter-sleeved, button-down Sonia Rykiel dress I’d bought and worn at a writing residency in Toronto; two differently-sized, but otherwise identical, silk Marc Jacobs dresses; black pleather leggings that I wore as pants. To the consult, I chose to wear the pants and shirt. I put on makeup. I say that I put on the pants not because I remember wearing the pants, my memory largely demolished as a result of psychosis, but because it was probably too cold to be wearing a skirt in that part of the city.

One the day of my consult, I helped Chris back the Ford out via hand gesture from the sidewalk. As I leaned against a parked car, hand up, two young men walked by. The attractive, curly-headed one turned his head as he passed. Yes, I thought, our eyes meeting; you may think I’m hot, but I’m also a rotting corpse. Sucks to be you, sir.

*

I’d sold an enormous amount of possessions in what I called a Pay-What-You-Want garage sale a few weeks before. (One week. Two weeks.) Chris had seen my tweet, and its link to my Craigslist ad, the day of, and called me about it. Everyone knows that giving away possessions is a potential red flag for suicide. I was already dead, so suicide never came to mind, but the idea of having meaningless possessions did. This unnerved the people who came to my event, who didn’t understand the concept of someone who wanted to sit there and watch people offer whatever they wanted, including nothing, to take away her things. Everyone asked, sometimes over and over again, what amount I “intended” to sell, say, an elaborately-knit cowl-neck scarf for. And I had no answers for them. One dollar was the same as ten dollars was the same as nothing. Some people seemed so confused by this that they just left. One woman grabbed armfuls of things and threw a five-dollar bill at me.

The only thing left afterward was a red cardigan. I left it in a bag and put it outside, but no one took it. When Chris finally noticed the cardigan, he said, “But you love that cardigan.”
Did I love that cardigan? I couldn’t tell if I loved him or my mother, let alone a cardigan that I’d worn around my studio for a year.I threw the cardigan away.

*

The ECT consult was with a psychiatrist named Dr. Descartes Li.
“Naming their son Descartes,” I said to Chris. “That is so, so Asian.”
His office was much less terrifying than the hospital in which it was located. Later, Chris would tell me that upon entering and realizing that it was a psychiatric hospital, he’d immediately begun creating an escape plan to the car in case we needed to “make a break for it.” I love that my husband thinks this way. I am perversely thrilled that even though he has never actually had to stay in a psychiatric hospital, he has been secondarily traumatized enough that a 1970s decor with odorous carpet (or was it the furniture? both?) and random amounts of incoherent yelling will trigger the instinct to run in the opposite direction.

In the office, Chris told Dr. Li that he liked his armchair. As he said this, I noticed the obvious stains on its surface, and wondered why Chris had chosen that particularly disturbing thing to compliment (were those sweat stains from frightened patients or distraught relatives over the years?). Dr. Li had a copy of Marbles, a recently released bipolar-memoir graphic novel, in a basket on top of his bookshelf, which I pointed out. No, I said, I didn’t like it, but it might have been because I wasn’t a fan of the art.
I had sixty minutes. How much of it was small talk? He asked for my psychiatric history, though he had much of it already due to thorough notes from Dr. M. There was no clock in the room. I didn’t know how much to tell or what to leave out.

Pacing, they told me at graduate school, is one of the beginning writers’ biggest challenges, because a beginning writer wants to tell all the wrong things, or everything.
A nurse told us at the hospital in Covington, Louisiana, where I’d been committed during a Christmas vacation at my in-laws’, that we were there because we did not believe in Jesus, a conviction that he had extrapolated from one young woman’s confession of unbelief during group therapy.

At the same hospital, another nurse told me that I ought not to be upset at my roommate, who was pilfering things such as my shoes, and my favorite tweed coat, because she might not know what she was doing, or that what she was doing was wrong. One morning, I woke up and discovered that she had taken my pillow during the night.
In October 2013 I was told that I did faint on a plane and went in and out of consciousness for four hours, that I may have had a seizure, that I did not have a seizure, that there was nothing to be done. I was told to go home and return to the emergency room if I fainted again, which I did not. I was given a neurotransmitter test and told to mail it in, which I ultimately did not do, in part because of the remarkable number of misspellings and grammatical errors in the instructions, and in part because Dr. M told me that such things were hogwash. I was told that I had lost twenty pounds in two weeks, but that the only physical problem with me was peripheral neuropathy, or a numbness and prickling in my hands and feet, which was determined in October to be the result of a vitamin B6 toxicity, a determination to be rejected later. I was told that my first novel was “still under consideration” at every house it had been sent to, which meant essentially nothing. In October I began to fracture, but I did not recognize it as fracturing, and I was told so many things that month, but I was not told that I was losing my mind again.

*

A side effect of my condition is a lack of interest in food or forgetting to eat it, leading to weight loss. In late November I was fitting into XS tops and size zero dresses again. I surprised myself by the swiftness of it. This is what diet pill advertisements mean when they exhort that the pounds will just melt away. For me, another day was another pound lost.
When I did look in the mirror, a practice that I generally avoided – the neurological disruption that creates a disconnect between emotional recognition and faces extends to my own as well – my body had changed dramatically. During one bathroom visit I lifted my bra, which had become baggy and sad. Bones. Someday: ash. I ordered a new bra, which was black and edged in peach lace.

It arrived. I slipped it on. It was, somehow, ridiculous in its sexiness. The cups barely covered. The straps were designed to look like a harness. It was me, but it also wasn’t me. I took a self-portrait with my 1970s Polaroid camera. The resulting picture, in which I am doing my best to make a charming, alluring face, I gave to Chris.
Somatic details figure heavily in these recollections: what I wore, what I looked like. I told myself, through mirrors and dressing-up and Polaroids and weighing myself, You have a body. The body is alive.

But the more that I tried to remind myself of the various ways in which I did, in fact, seem to have a body that was moving, with a heart that pumped blood, the more agitated I became. Being dead butted up against the so-called evidence of being alive, and so I grew to avoid that evidence because proof was not a comfort; instead, it pointed to my insanity.
Why do any of these things? Why did I behave in the manner of someone who was alive, when I believed, to differing levels of absolutism, that I was dead? The notion of Perdition never left me when I was suffering from Cotard’s delusion, but the degree to which I despaired about it did. Most of the time, I was able to stuff down the despair enough such that I continued to – pointlessly, in my mind – brush my teeth, sometimes wash my hair in the sink, and report my symptoms to the phantom who claimed to be my doctor.

Suicide was not on my mind, though it had been before during my depressions. Perhaps if I’d considered suicide as an option, I wouldn’t have continued to do what I saw as meaningless tasks, and tried to kill myself instead. But as a dead woman, my condition meant that a successful suicide would simply doom me to the same thing, or to a deeper, unfathomably worse circle of Hell.
Instead of killing myself, I watched the Adam Sandler film “Funny People.” I was unaware of the fact that singer-songwriter James Taylor has a cameo in Funny People. When he came onscreen, I thought, without self-consciousness: “Oh, God. I can’t believe that James Taylor is still alive, and I’m dead.”

*

November 24th.

Like a child asking for a bedtime story, I crawled into bed with Chris at six in the morning. I said, “Tell me about what is real.”
I asked him about everything. I asked him to tell me who I am, what I like, where I am from, what I do. I asked him about my parents. I asked him if they are real, even though I don’t see them. I asked him about the President, and about the Vice President. He told me about our house. He told me about our neighborhood and the city in which we live. He explained where the furniture is from. That I picked all of it myself. He told me about the farm table in the dining room.
I listened as he employed logic to tell me that I am alive.

“When people die,” he said, “they are buried, and then you don’t see them again. That’s what happened to Grandpa this year. I don’t see him anymore, but I see you.”
None of this solved the problem, but it did help. It was as comforting as a bedtime story would be. I thanked him. He went back to sleep, and I went back to my studio.

*

According to myth, Demeter calls forth Persephone from the Land of the Dead once a year. I imagine myself as that pale daughter, who, in my imagination, has become so accustomed to being among the dead that she doesn’t comprehend her transition into the living. For me, the Cotard’s delusion lifted without fanfare. There was no moment when I looked around myself and realized that I’d be resurrected, no shock of joy for having emerged from Perdition. I had become sick with other, more definably physical, ailments. I was undergoing neurological exams and MRIs and CT scans fr cancer, and I was afraid, but I was conscious enough to know that there is no hope of even death in Perdition; only more of the same awful suffering. It stands apart from loss, injury, or perhaps even grief, all of which are terrible, and yet are still beautiful to the dead woman, who sees them as remarkably human, and alive.
*
Photographs courtesy of the author, who was happy to be asked, having “once had a piece about mental health diagnoses run with a really awful stock photo of a Young Pretty White Girl Looking Vaguely Glum.”

 
I posted a story about this way back near the beginning of this thread…this one has some additional info.
Enjoy!


Your Ancestors Didn’t Sleep Like You — Are We Doing It Wrong?
sleep.jpeg




Evidence continues to emerge, both scientific and historical, suggesting that the way in which the majority of us currently sleep may not actually be good for us.

In 2001, historian Roger Ekirch of Virginia Tech published a paper that included over 15 years of research.
It revealed an overwhelming amount of historical evidence that humans used to in fact sleep in two different chunks. (1)

In 2005, he published a book titled “At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past,” that included more than 500 references to a disjointed sleeping pattern.
It included diaries, medical books, literature and more taken from various sources which include Homer’s Odyssey all the way to modern tribes in Nigeria and more.

“It’s not just the number of references — it is the way they refer to it, as if it was common knowledge.” —
Ekrich (source)

What Was Found In The Research

Ekirch’s research found that we didn’t always sleep for an average of 8 hours straight.
Instead we would sleep in two shorter periods throughout the night.

All sleep would occur within a 12 hour time frame that started with 3 or 4 hours of sleep, followed by being awake for 3 hours or so and than sleeping again until the morning.
There was also some research done in the early 1990′s by psychiatrist Thomas Wehr.

He conducted an experiment where 14 people were put into complete darkness for 14 hours a day for an entire month.
By the fourth week the participants were able to settle into a very distinct sleeping pattern.

The pattern was the same as Ekirch suggested of how we were meant to sleep; the subjects slept for approximately 4 hours, woke for another few and then went back to sleep until morning. (2)

“Ekirch found that references to the first and second sleep started to disappear during the late 17th Century.
This started among the urban upper classes in northern Europe and over the course of the next 200 years filtered down to the rest of Western society.
By the 1920′s the idea of a first and second sleep had receded entirely from our social consciousness.”
(source)

Possible Reasons As To Why It Was Like This

One reason could be that this type of segmented sleep is what really comes natural to the human body, at least that’s what Wehr’s experiment suggests, but there are other theories.

Historian Craig Koslofsky suggests:

“Associations with night before the 17th Century were not good.
The night was a place populated by people of disrepute — criminals, prostitutes and drunks.
Even the wealthy, who could afford candlelight, had better things to spend their money on.
There was no prestige or social value associated with staying up all night.”
(source)

Things changed, however, in 1667 when Paris became the first city in the world to light its streets, and eventually throughout Europe staying up at night became the social norm, and then the industrial revolution happened:

“People were becoming increasingly time-conscious and sensitive to efficiency, certainly before the 19th Century, but the industrial revolution intensified that attitude by leaps and bounds.”
(source)

Eventually, we got to the point where parents were forcing their children to sleep at a certain time, and forced them out of the segmented sleeping pattern that was more dominant.

Many Sleeping Problems May Have Roots In The Human Body’s Natural Preference For Segmented Sleep


Ekirch believes that many modern day sleeping problems have roots in the human body’s natural preference for segmented sleep.
He believes that our historical sleeping patterns could be the reason why many people suffer from a condition called “sleep maintenance insomnia,” where individuals wake in the middle of the night and have trouble getting back to sleep.

This type of condition first appeared at the end of the 19th century, approximately the same time segmented sleep began to die off.

For most of evolution we slept a certain way.
Waking up during the night is part of normal human physiology
.
The idea that we must sleep in a consolidated block could be damaging, he says, if it makes people who wake up at night anxious, as this anxiety can itself prohibit sleep and is likely to seep into waking life too.” - Psychologist Greg Jacobs (source)

According to Russell Foster, a professor of circadian [body clock] neuroscience at Oxford:

Many people wake up at night and panic. I tell them that what they are experiencing is a throwback to the bi-modal sleep pattern.
But the majority of doctors still fail to acknowledge that a consolidated eight-hour sleep may be unnatural.
Over 30% of the medical problems that doctors are faced with stem directly or indirectly from sleep.
But sleep has been ignored in medical training and there are very few centers where sleep is studied
.” (source)

As far as what people did during this in between time of wakefulness, Ekirch’s research suggests that they primarily used the time to meditate on their dreams, read, pray or partake in spiritual practices.

Sources
:
(1)http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-16964783
(2)http://www.nytimes.com/1995/03/14/science/modern-life-suppresses-an-ancient-body-rhythm.html?scp=6&sq=dr%20thomas%20wehr&st=cse&pagewanted=all
http://slumberwise.com/science/your-ancestors-didnt-sleep-like-you/



This is why I think the siesta is one of the greatest inventions ever, plus the dreams are cooler.
 
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