Tuesday 1 December 2015

Morning magic

Something weird, yet extraordinary is happening right now. It has reinforced my belief in a benign and wise universe.

I used to be a morning person for most of my life. Going to bed at 10 pm, waking up at 7 or 8 am was my jam. Then I got an evening job a few years ago that had me working the majority of my time until midnight. The adjustment wasn't easy. I struggled to keep my eyes open after 10pm for the longest time, unable to sleep in properly the next day and always being up early despite the short night's sleep.
Then my body adjusted. After some more time, so did my mind (the mind is usually much more stubborn than the body). And I grew to love what was considered a job with bad work times. My life grew around it: I would have leisurely late mornings where I took my time writing blog posts, drinking coffee and catching up with my husband. Later I would do my yoga practice or walk the dogs - or do both on the rare occasion I felt extra inspired.

Going to work when everybody else was done for the day didn't bother me any more. I felt smug, like I had discovered this little secret nobody else knew about: That you can live the life you want before work, and still be able to make a living financing it after hours.
(Of course, millions of artists and creatives have done this for hundreds of years, pursuing their art during the day and making a living at night. I just never thought I would be one of them.)

But then, life intervened. Because she has a wicked sense of humour, and apparently feels that I have become too smug and complacent for my own good.

2016 is shaping up to be a year of change. My job is no longer secure, and there may be a change of workplace on the horizon. I also started to take some extra courses last August, which I will finish next year. With that, everything I have grown accustomed to is probably about to change.

I have known about these impending, not-quite-sure-but-probably-happening changes for some months now. And I had a hard time accepting it in the beginning. Our comfort zones are named that for a reason: They are comfortable. Familiar. Like an old favourite sweater, they have adjusted to our needs. Giving that up isn't easy. I went through all the emotions: Ranting about how unfair it is, feeling sorry for myself, denying that it would happen.

But then, something happened. I swear I have nothing to do with it.

Suddenly, I would wake up early in the morning, wide awake, no matter how late I went to bed the night before.
The house was comforting and welcoming in its darkness, not cold and disagreeable like it used to be. I couldn't help but get up.

Couldn't help but thoroughly enjoy this special, quiet time in the morning. With the smell of the freshly brewed coffee in the air, I would wander through the rooms of our home, soaking up the peace and quiet. Watching the world slowly waking up outside felt like a special treat. I hadn't done that in so long!
I forgot how much I missed it.

Because here is the truth I chose to forget:
Mornings are my favourite time of the day. Always have been, always will be. I love getting up before anyone else, when the house is quiet and all my loved ones are still asleep.

Watching the sun rise, the world looks fresh, full of magic and bright with possibilities. In the mornings, I'm superwoman. I'm full of ideas, energy, and inspiration. As the day progresses, I lose more and more of my super powers, until there is nothing left by the end of the day.

I thought that would fit in perfectly with an evening job. And it does.
But it's not limited to that.

Early mornings are not as scary as I made them out to be. I can get up early to indulge my creative side, and still go to work during the day if I have to.

The universe is showing me right now the beauty of every hour of the day. It's reminding me gently that I can adjust to changes. I have done it before, many times. I can do it again.

So can you. 
Our comfort zones may be comfortable, but they are also prisons. Maybe it's time to break out?



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