This is my letter to morning, which is one of the daily prompts from Susannah Conway’s April Love project. I’m a lifelong night owl, and I’ve tried to break up with morning many times. But recently we’ve decided to accept each other the way we are, on our own terms…
During much of my life, I never really enjoyed or appreciated you, especially when you first begin. I very much dislike being woken up before I’m done sleeping, and as it happens, my natural biorhythms just don’t line up with what society considers an acceptable rising time.
But now I’m in the groove of working for myself and setting my own schedule. Most days, I wake up naturally between 8:30 and 9am. When I awaken, I now feel a sense of joy and anticipation. I’m ready to rock my day. I know I can begin at my own pace.
My dreams flow through my mind’s eye, mingling with the intention I set the night before as I drifted off to sleep. I stretch luxuriously and look out the window, getting a sense of the day’s light. I sit up, fumbling for my phone. I set my meditation alarm for 30 minutes. I begin with a chakra-clearing exercise, then, connected and rooted, I enjoy my silent meditation.
Well, not silent, exactly – thoughts still flood my consciousness. I sit calmly, unattached, on the banks of my stream of consciousness. Occasionally I dip my net into the water, snagging out an idea that flashes brightly in the sun. Mostly, though, I just let the stream flow by.
When the alarm chimes, it’s time to get up.
After tending to my body, I flow into writing practice. I dive into the pages of my journal, asking and answering the questions of the moment, copying affirmations, following the trail of my gratitude. Or perhaps I bypass pen & paper and proceed straight to the laptop, excited to get started on my current writing project.
Dear morning, my point is, now that I greet you on my own terms, I look forward to the time we spend together.
After some writing, it’s time for brunch and some kitchen chores. No more rushing around. No more eating first thing upon rising, which never worked for me. No upset tummy from getting up too early – yes, that’s a real thing, for me at least. No oh-dark-thirty.
Your sunrises, while gorgeous, are just not for me. I am a deep dreamer, and while some folk are awakened by the sun’s first rays, that’s when I’m busy traveling far away in other worlds. When my dreamscape is interrupted, I feel headachy, disoriented, and nauseous. There’s no reason to fight my body’s need for a later start.
I love you, dear morning, and I’m so thankful that we have created this agreement, that I can meet you on my own terms. I’m thankful that you sneak in each and every day while I rest peacefully. I love that my attendance at your dawning is not mandatory.
I respect your beauty, your birdsong, your fresh breezes, and the way they drift past me through the open window, gently tickling my face while I dream up new adventures to reveal later in the day.