I’ve never been a morning person.
I much prefer to pass it by in blissful sleep, waking closer to lunch than breakfast time. Then I had kids, and I had to adapt. Early mornings became a necessity, whether I wanted them or not. I learned that there are things I enjoy about mornings.
I love, particularly, the quiet. The soft light, the gentle voices, the lazy morning stretch, a hot cup of coffee made light and sweet, and a whole day stretching quietly ahead of me. I like the ease of slow movement on days where we have nowhere to be, left to gently awaken to the day.
It’s a good time to focus on our intentions. What we want, what we don’t. It’s a good time of day for clarity if we can be quiet enough to listen to our intuition. Answers seem to come easier when there’s not the noise of a day in full swing.
I’ve always been oh-so-sweet with a dash of hellfire thrown in. Peace and rage have always coexisted within me. Maybe that’s my balance, but I’d like to tip the scale toward peace. To do that, I may have to forgive, even when I don’t feel like it, in order to make space for more peace. I may have to let go of old ideas that no longer resonate with my soul to make room for new blessings. Morning seems like a good time to meditate on these things, to turn our focus inward to the kind of people we want to be.
I was recently asked to state an intention for my life, to specify what I need now. The answer was right there: I wrote a book. It’s a literary novel, the first I’ve completed. When asked what I want for my life, my focus was clear: I want my book published, this one the first of many.
Once my intentions were clarified, I was able to put my energy and focus into that intention. The truth is that I’ve already sent out queries to agents. I’ve even started on the next story. It’s not that I’m doing nothing. It’s that in this space of waiting, I’ve felt powerless. I’ve felt the tide of fear come to carry me away when what I need is to allow the tide of hope and positive intention to lift me up, to take me to everything I ever wanted.
Perhaps in order to make the changes we need to make, we spend a few minutes each morning quietly meditating on what we need. We can use the softness of each morning to be soft ourselves, to gently focus our intentions on the life we want to be living. We use the early morning clarity to see our path to getting what it is we need. We softly let go of the things that no longer serve us, and instead, gently embrace the ideas and people who make us lighter, better, and filled with love.
Morning is also a time of truth. Have you ever noticed this? We’ve rested and our thoughts are fresh. We have clean faces, free of artifice. Messy hair, free of being shaped and bent by our will. Soft clothes or none at all from our night of rest and sleep and dreams. We wake refreshed to a new day.
I never was a morning person, but I adapted. This resiliency has stayed with me. I’ve adapted to a variety of situations, changing as circumstances required. Now I take this a step further, and I mark the changes. I decide what will stay and what will go, if I choose to forgive or not, how I will live, and what dreams I will believe in. We all decide these things, whether by our action and intention or by our inaction.
Let us take the time each morning to turn our focus inward and to choose to softly make the changes that will improve our lives.
We can start our meditation with a morning routine. A hot shower or invigorating French bath. Our faces washed in hot water and our teeth brushed with mindful focus. Our coffee poured and breakfast prepared, each bite taken with intention.
We can spend time with our children and figure out our day, softly, cherishing the early morning togetherness before we leave the house for the days we’ll live.
We can make time to focus our intention on our dreams, on what we want, to keep our minds clear and our hearts soft so that we can better mind our intuition
We can allow in a little forgiveness or compassion toward ourselves or others.
We can embrace body positivity and acceptance for the whole of ourselves.
We can sit quietly with our thoughts and gently allow ourselves to let go and to let in new beauty, new thoughts and ideas, new blessings, and new peace.
We can wake refreshed and use this newness of the morning to let in love, to let in peace, to let in light—and to let go of everything else.
Author: Crystal Jackson
Editor: Danielle Beutell
Copy Editor: Lieselle Davidson
Social Editor: Callie Rushton