I love nothing more than to ease into my day—to lay awake and wrapped in a warm comforter snuggled into my lover’s pillow before the world knows I have even opened my eyes.
There is a stillness and sacredness about those first few moments I need before I can adequately take my place in the world and show up fully.
This is my time. And although I may not sit my tush on my red circular cushion every morning or focus my breath with eyes closed, this is my meditation. This is where I awaken my body, mind, and spirit—slowly and deliberately.
I first notice how my body feels, starting there allows me to more easily come back into my body from my dream state; it grounds me first and foremost. Then I breathe and bring my attention to my senses; this integrates the intangible and spiritual into my body and my awareness. I notice what my eyes see, my ears hear, and what I feel on an intuitive level about the day. This is about perception, my intention is for it to be clear as I walk through the world. On any given day, I will do this for anywhere between a half hour to an hour.
Yes, I have a job. And no, I do not live alone. I have, however, come to embrace and honor this part of myself that wants nothing to do with waking up to an alarm clock everyday before the sun breaks or working five days a week. I am not a morning person. I could count on two hands the number of times I’ve used an alarm this year. I have chosen a job which allows me to work during the night and the universe to plan my schedule.
My morning ritual is about knowing what I need and giving myself that.
I am not a lazy person, nor am I unmotivated. My days are filled with yoga, writing, cross-fit, maintaining and building relationships, keeping a home, meal-prepping and randomness—all things that nurture and help me be the best hospice nurse, partner, activist, and person I can be.
Let’s not forget all the things I don’t write in my planner.
But it all starts with easing into my day, and well, coffee. A big, strong cup of coffee with a touch of french vanilla creamer so that when my feet do hit the ground, they hit it running.
Author: Dottie Hollingsworth
Images: Darla Hueske/Flickr