Morning Has Broken (a day late)

This is the blog entry I was supposed to post yesterday… I had it 3/4 of the way done at 8:30 AM because I knew the day was going to be a bit nutty.  If only I had known that holiday travel would have me arriving in Cincinnati at 12:30 AM instead of 10 PM -I think I would have gotten up a half hour earlier!  AH WELL… best intentions and all… with a sigh from my perfectionist self…

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“I love the sweet smell of dawn – our unique daily opportunity to smell time, to smell opportunity – each morning being, a new beginning.” ~Emme Woodhull-Bäche

 I love mornings.

A few years ago, I had a boss who remarked, somewhat negatively about my morning persona.  “We all know what kind of morning person you are,” she said.

“But I love morning.” I answered, shocked, “it’s my favorite part of the day.” 

 “Yes,” she replied, “but you don’t like anyone in your mornings.”

It took about 5 seconds for me to go from being offended to quizzical to thoughtful, to AH-HA… she was right, I don’t like just anyone in my mornings.  My AMs are invited guests only.

There’s something about that soft, fuzzy, in-between space, when we rise with one foot in this world while the other still walks our dreams.  We are at our most naked; the mask we wear not yet in place, our inner light, unhidden, shines out.

Even as a small person, I loved the softness of my family’s morning selves.  I loved to spend the night at my grandmother’s house, just so that I could be with her when she was in her morning space.  I can remember sitting at the kitchen table, watching her make breakfast.  Her hair, just brushed, was a golden halo around her head, backlit by the sun shining in the windows.  There was a gentleness about her, and a willingness to be silly, and I was most clear in these moments that she loved me.

I remember waking up on vacation and wandering down to the lake to find my mother swimming in her nightgown.  She was like a mermaid or a silke from Celtic mythology; cool and slick and free.

The openness and willingness to be vulnerable, the casual way in which we reveal our inner self makes morning precious to me. I like to savor it, drawing the time in between spaces out as long as possible.  Even when I’m alone, I putz my way along, waiting until the last minute to slide into my “game face” and join the larger world.

 But every day, I work to hang on to the sense of flow, the feeling of connectedness, the off handed way I expose my own soft under belly… every day, I work to integrate a little more of my morning self into the everyday and to share that brave, gentle, goofy self with the world… and I think I am better for it.

 “Morning has broken, like the first morning

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird

Praise for the singing, praise for the morning

Praise for the springing fresh from the word”

                                                                     ~ Cat Stevens, Morning has Broken