Its time to wake up

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about mornings. To me, mornings have always symboled a reset button. The sun will be out again, there will be enough light to fund a new adventure, time to walk alongside the sun. Things you can’t do past dusk, things the evening ran out of. In the morning, I can wake up and chase after them.

But it’s also so tempting to waste a morning. To sink deeper under the covers and chase the last remnants of a dream. To stay wrapped in the arms of the person from the night before. To sit next to the coffee pot, the window, or the dogs on the couch. To meld into the chair on the porch and listen to the birds. It’s luxurious to fold yourself into a morning in these ways, to succumb to the comfort and nostalgia of it.

This is all symbolic of my normal thoughts. My normal internal debate. On one hand, I could be productive, I could wake up at 5am, go on a run, do all the chores I normally push off until the last minute, write extra passages, read extra pages, exedra, exedra. Or, I could choose to lose myself in a moment, to allow the romantic in me to steer the ship towards whichever pleasure captivates her attention for the day.

It’s all a balance. Both options serve you in moderation or whatever bullshit I’m supposed to say. I do love productivity, I do love to push myself, that high you get from success, but at my core, I am a wanderer most of all. Even with the clearest of minds, I’d still choose to float my morning down a birdsong ravine and swim in the sun.

One day I’ll find a way to tie my romanticism to success. Not in a gross or unfortunate way that means the magic has to take a back seat. Just in the way that I want both without having to sacrifice the strength of either.