I haven’t been writing for the past six weeks because I haven’t been sleeping. When you don’t sleep, the days pass in a blur of exhaustion, wishing to sleep, being too tired to do all the good-life things that help you sleep, then finally sleep comes and it is sweet and delicious. But catching up after no sleep takes a few days and then before I know it, I’m back to not sleeping. I have spent years coping with this cycle. The current version is about as bad as it has been in awhile, but I am still trying to learn what I’m supposed to learn, still trying new adaptations that might help. And mostly, trying not to sink into self-critique and trying not to lose the capacity for joy. Meanwhile, I’ve been reflecting on the symbolic significance of the humble offering. The commentary of the Bhagavad Gita I’m reading is rife with stories that juxtapose the erudite, learned, religious person -- whose rituals are impeccable, whose understanding of them is flawless – with the simple,...