I love mornings.
For me, this time is full of promise and magic and possibility. Anything could happen today. Nothing negative has marred the perfection of the peace and quiet. No one has made any demands. The quiet is only broken by the sighs of my cats and the hum of my space heater, because it’s January.
Well, no demands isn’t quite accurate.
First thing every morning when my cat realizes I’m awake, she gets on my bed and we have quiet, thoughtful cuddle time. It’s a mindfulness time for me. I try to stay in a fuzzy warm space where I think of nothing but being in the moment, stroking the soft fur and listening to the rumbling purr. But speaking of rumbling, breakfast for cats comes next, so the white cat lets me know when we’re done.
The cats have learned that other than the smallest polite ‘meep’ of announcement, no one makes a sound in the bedroom. Early morning cuddles are a white cat thing. My Siamese isn’t interested in anything until after breakfast, so she’s not so patiently waiting, location determined by the ongoing territorial dispute that governs cat diplomacy and is far outside my jurisdiction. Close the bedroom door carefully after the last cat because beloved husband is not a morning person and it’s only polite.
My office is just down the hall and now all bets are off as my Siamese loudly requests her breakfast, attempting to trip me the dark as I reach for the overhead light. Separate bowls of Fit and Trim crunchies are issued as I sit at my computer and see what happened in the world after my very early bed time.
Early to bed early to rise is less of a choice and more a physical necessity, but it does give me the gift of the morning and I wouldn’t want to trade that. I’ve already meditated, fed the cats, processed my email, checked up on my social media to review the status of the world, and I’m halfway through writing an article and it isn’t even light out yet. I’m just starting to see the faint shades of grey coalescing out of the darkness. In a few minutes I’ll begin to see colors. If I’m lucky, soon the foxes who live in our neighborhood will be out to play. Our cul-de-sac is the perfect place for them to play tag and enjoy the freshness of a morning.
January got me thinking. We tend to think of the New Year as some fresh clean page that we can use to write something completely new. Anything could happen. Anything is possible.
You know what really happens when you stare at a completely blank page? You get writer’s block. A blank page is intimidating. A blank page is sterile. A blank page doesn’t give you anything to start from. Leaping into the abyss is a very difficult way to write.
I think we put too much pressure on January. New Year, New You. A new diet on the cover of every magazine. Hit the ground running. Resolutions are everywhere. What are you going to do to make this year the Best Ever? It’s exhausting. I have a different suggestion. Slow down. It’s the dawn of the new year. Dawn. A time when most people are still snug in their beds, waiting until the clock drags them from pleasant slumber. And yet somehow just because it’s January you’re supposed to leap forward and rewrite your life. That just doesn’t seem sensible to me.
I do a lot of my best writing in the mornings. My creativity has all the quiet time it needs to unfurl. Ideas have a way of inching forward when the mind is still. Consider taking a cue from a morning person. Take January as a quiet time to do the things that matter. Prioritize taking space and time for yourself. Take stock. Review your current situation. Build a plan. Enjoy the magic of possibility. I promise, you don’t have to leap up before the crack of dawn to do it.
The sun is finally rising. The grey is changing to pink. The foxes are playing tag. My article is finished, and I still have a whole day full of potential ahead.
What are you going to do with your morning?
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