I’m not a morning person. Unless I’m the first one up when I’m in the great outdoors, marvelling at a sunrise, watching mist rise from a placid lake, and listening to the first call of the loons.
But that rarely happens.
So, I’m basically just not a morning person.
I am a night owl. The still darkness is rich ground to cultivate ideas and search out creative genius.
We all have a delicate balance of extroverted and introverted needs, and as a fence rider on almost every element of the Myers-Briggs assessment, I need as much time alone as I do surrounded by other fascinating human beings.
Morning people often insinuate that I’m wasting the day. They gently suggest that perhaps I’m a tad depressed, lazy, unmotivated, or accomplishing less than my potential. Morning people are wrong.
My very naïve beginnings at meditation have developed throughout the years, and my practice is now something I am aware of every day.
Waking slowly, at my own pace allows me to be quiet with the thoughts that come and go from my mind.
It’s easy to be aware of all of the thoughts that come to mind as your head is on the pillow waiting for sleep to wrap her arms around you. Unless you’re dog-tired, thoughts come fast. You can’t help but be aware of their presence in the quiet darkness of night-time.
Morning thoughts are different. These are the thoughts that come out quietly, like a hungry stray hoping for a leftover morsel. They slink quietly into consciousness and scatter as soon as you turn to thoughts of preparing for the day.
This morning as I woke,I listened to the heart-breaking howl of the neighbours oft neglected dog. The irony is that if some of my thoughts were sounds, they would have sounded like that baleful howling.
In the silence of my fluffy duvets, snuggled warm and safe, I had time to reach out and hold each of those thoughts gently, examine them, and then let them go. At peace with my own self, I felt prepared to face the day, and share it with whatever the world had prepared for me.
My not-a-morning-person mornings are a simple pleasure, and a quality of life indulgence. I have the peace to let my emotions and thoughts speak their truth, and the time to gently make peace with everything, both good and not so good. This is the value of meditation, practice, and the awareness of personal presence.