On mornings I don’t want to get out of bed, be it a combination of physical or mental unease, I do not lay there and force myself to think of 5 things I am grateful for.
I do not begin to count my blessings. I do not (always) play a dance-y, upbeat song.
On mornings I don’t want to get out of bed, I am learning to move slowly. I listen to the subtle floor board creaks as my bare feet guide me to the kitchen. The way the faucet spout dribbles over the neck of my water bottle.
I wash my face with extra care. Brush my teeth a minute longer. Linger over a cup of tea. It is the first of many.
On mornings I don’t want to get out of bed, I stay as close to it as possible. A sweater that is appropriate for a Zoom call and also feels like a hug. Can I work from the sofa? Can I work from the window seat? Can I work from the floor? Is that a new perspective?
I think about a meal I am looking forward to eating today.
I imagine my typical morning routines sidesteppingly placing themselves on pause. Maybe today should begin with a book. A poem. Another cup of tea? I use my phone only to open the music app. I put on a classical album and sway.
I light a candle, place it on the kitchen counter, and wait.
On mornings I don’t want to get out of bed, sometimes I default to a “power through” mindset. And sometimes I intentionally choose to remember what it feels like to lay in the grass on a warm summer day and watch the breeze carry the clouds.
There’s no right or wrong. And I’m certainly no authority on this. Learn to recognize yourself. It’s not easy work. But in that exploration, feel the radical responsibility you can take over your mornings… both the gentle and the powerful. Knowing that they are one in the same.
Love always,
Liz
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