Morning dawns long and slow these days of deep fall. Overcast skies have kept us quiet in the early morning hours longer than usual. The bustling energy of the season is shifting to one of drawing in, drawing close, layers of quiet blanketing our old farmhouse enveloping us all in a gentle embrace.
Mornings are my time for quiet, welcoming stillness both within my own heart, and in the space that surrounds. My predawn rhythms include time for me to do my own inner work, self-care, for my mama’s heart. Devoting to ritual for prayer, meditation, yoga, and journaling, I begin my day aligned, connected, peaceful, and inspired. I am a better mama for it. I am a better human being for it.
Journaling has become a sacred part of my morning routine. Writing it out helps me gain perspective, and being a writer, it’s always been about the words and how they flow through me. My creative process becomes cyclical when I pray, meditate, and write down inspiration, as I open my heart and mind to what really needs to come through, rather than the rattle-trap noise that overtakes my brain when daily stress takes her toll. It keeps me grounded, when fears, or the day, spiral out of control, I can return to that place of peace that I have cultivated, the written word that brings me back to center, the connection to divine love that I experience as a result of opening to receive.
It is an added bonus when another mop-top bed head joins me on the mat in the early waking hours, connecting our heart, mind, body, and soul together through gentle touch, deep rhythmic breath, and a collective mindset of peace and love, opening the way to share a few beautiful moments that belong only to us, mama and child.
Surrendering all in the early morning light.