When life gets busy, the days seem short and a minor meltdown seems eminent, there are a few things that help me pull myself together. Sometimes it can be sinking into the couch with my favorite film noir and a bowl of peanut butter cups, and other times it can be waking up early to capture a few moments of silence to myself. When I do manage to roll out of bed before sunrise, I always seem to ask myself, “why don’t I do this every day?”
I find the early morning time to be the calmest. The blue hour as I call it: when heavy fog has established itself in the low brush of my family’s field and not even the birds have woken up. There is no sign of the sun, yet the upper atmosphere is illuminated as though the earth’s core has a light source of its own: turning up the exposure of last night’s ambient black sky. Many times during these morning hours I will write. I like to sit outside with a cup of tea and a cozy jacket that surrounds me like the duvet I was serenaded out of. I will have a notebook nearby to act as canvas for any thoughts that might stumble my way in these few moments of utter clarity and reconciliation.
Slowly, as if the birds in the trees have heard my thoughts aloud, other life forms begin to awaken. The slow coo of morning doves echo from Eucalyptus trees, insects begin to chirp and even the grasses begin to exchange with the moving air, which like the creatures, have taken to life again. I find it so peaceful to begin my days alone this way. It is equitable to getting a head start before a race, or stretching before yoga. My body and mind is loosened of existential thought as I myself, find footing in today’s fast paced, ever-changing world.