There are things you have always loved, there are things you will never enjoy, and then there are things that you slowly warm up to. I have always loved reading, I will probably never enjoy calling a customer service hotline, but I can honestly say, that I am truly beginning to relish mornings.
For as long as I can remember, I have detested getting up in the mornings. The sound of a beeping machine, or annoyingly chipper radio DJ insisting I remove myself from the warmth of my down comforter is not something I can ever say I enjoyed. The room was cold once removed from the heat of blankets, and usually the sky was still dark. And, no matter how much sleep I got, I was never quite able to shake the feeling that I had awoken from a deep coma instead of a night’s sleep when the alarm finally sounded. Groggy, clumsy, with no trace of coffee in my body, I was not pleasant to be around. Lord help the person who attempted conversation with me. College roommates quickly learned to let me be for a good hour before anything of merit could be done (although my mother never quite seemed to learn that one, God bless her).
Over the past year, and the last month in particular, I have come to really enjoy mornings. To be fair, it is still a work in progress, and it started off slow. It began when I was in grad school. Being the incredible procrastinator that I am, there were more than a few times where it became necessary for me to wake up before the sun in order to finish writing (dare I say, even begin writing) a paper due that day. The alarm would sound, I would crawl out of bed and pull on thick slippers and a big sweater, and pad to the kitchen to make coffee and pull the blinds, letting what little light was beginning to shine to filter in through my window. Morning light has always held a certain allure, making everything it touches more fragile and beautiful. The streets are quiet, porch lights are all off, and nothing but birdsong hits my ears. It really is a beautiful time. Once the coffee was ready, I could write, the movement of the shadows as the day progressed pushing me along in my writing project. I was always the most productive in the mornings. However, those were rare occasions. When left to my own choices and weekends, I could easily sleep ten hours a night and not waken until at least 9:30am, but more likely 10:00.
Now that I am graduated, I have something different forcing me from my bed at 5:45 each morning—my job. I have always liked the pace of coffee shops in the morning, and the one I work at now is no different. Walking through the empty streets, seeing the pale beginnings of the day light the sky around me as I set up chairs and pastry cases—it is these small moments, done in near silence as part of my now daily routine that are beginning to make me truly love the mornings. There is a particular crispness to the air, silence to the streets, and gentle feeling of peaceful productivity that can really grow on a person.
These days, I can hardly sleep past 8:00am, a time I once thought to be an ungodly hour to begin a class period. There is too much to experience, and I need that quiet time in the morning, making my coffee and sitting in the gentle breeze of my half open window, to ground and prepare me for the day ahead.
"If in the past people would listen to music out of love for music, nowadays it roars everywhere and all the time, “regardless whether we want to hear it,” it roars from loudspeakers, in cars, in restaurants, in elevators, in the streets, in waiting rooms, in gyms, in the earpieces of Walkmans, music rewritten, reorchestrated, abridged, and stretched out, fragments of rock, of jazz, of opera, a flood of everything jumbled together so that we don’t know who composed it (music become noise is anonymous), so that we can’t tell beginning from end (music become noise has no form): sewage-water music in which music is dying."-Milan Kundera, Ignorance
"I’m going to make everything around me beautiful - that will be my life."-
Elsie de Wolfe