5 A.M Isn't Enough
I wake this morning at 5:05, without an alarm. I've been doing this frequently lately, sometimes quite a bit earlier.
I'm alert. No grogginess. Not feeling rested and raring to go, but not feeling the urge to roll over and go back to sleep either.
I get up to meditate, which I've been doing daily for about 5 years now. My practice has changed me in ways that are not always obvious. Often subtle, yet I suspect powerfully. Today, I don't go into a deep state at all. I've learned not to care.
Thirty minutes later I'm out the door for an hour's walk, then back home. I read for a bit -- about writing, about creativity, about meditation. I have a habit of meandering through several books at once. A friend recently told me that "books talk to each other." It makes sense to me.
The house comes to life. My wife's alarm goes off. The dogs circle the bed for attention. The kids in the next room stay quiet. We wake them. Gently.
Then they're off to school and the house is quiet again. And so I write.
It all sounds so romantic.
But there is so much to accomplish in the day. And time is ticking away. And with all the self-help and productivity onslaught around miracle mornings and waking up early and all that, I still feel behind. 5 a.m. doesn't seem early enough.
I'm alert. No grogginess. Not feeling rested and raring to go, but not feeling the urge to roll over and go back to sleep either.
I get up to meditate, which I've been doing daily for about 5 years now. My practice has changed me in ways that are not always obvious. Often subtle, yet I suspect powerfully. Today, I don't go into a deep state at all. I've learned not to care.
Thirty minutes later I'm out the door for an hour's walk, then back home. I read for a bit -- about writing, about creativity, about meditation. I have a habit of meandering through several books at once. A friend recently told me that "books talk to each other." It makes sense to me.
The house comes to life. My wife's alarm goes off. The dogs circle the bed for attention. The kids in the next room stay quiet. We wake them. Gently.
Then they're off to school and the house is quiet again. And so I write.
It all sounds so romantic.
But there is so much to accomplish in the day. And time is ticking away. And with all the self-help and productivity onslaught around miracle mornings and waking up early and all that, I still feel behind. 5 a.m. doesn't seem early enough.
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