the creative benefits of waking up early
i wake up an hour early to build/make something for myself. a cup of chai, a stream of consciousness poem, a string of letters or just a tiny river song. on some days a mammoth-sized chai cup becomes my crutch, on others i help myself through with the company of a beloved writer's words. mostly i wake up early to try to string sentences together, like a patched quilt, to pour it all out. a few poetic sentences strewn together and held close like a salvation mantra. the sentences that don't let me sleep at night, and others that swim in my mind during my waking hours.
i wake myself early to allow the softness of the poha-chai combo to get into my bones and undo me. i wake up to get a headstart over the mundanities of my day job. i wake up to gather some thoughts and feelings and put them on page. i wake up early as a way of leaving the rest of the noise behind. i wake up early to get high on words i write, words i read.
of late, as i drift to sleep these opening lines from the Mary Oliver poem Why I Wake Early have been ringing in my head:
Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips…
some mornings are a dull affair. the greys from the night before haunt me, threatening to take over the whole new day too. on such days too, i try to wake up, at least open my eyes and stay in bed. i do that i shake off the numb atemporality, a trance-like “zone of indistinguishably urgent stimulus, where i want to wake up and write but am not sure if i'll like what i'll write. then these words from Oliver's poem come to me. she bookends the poem with these wild-eyed words, chesty words that inspire courage and make me believe in the magic of morning hours:
Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness.
on eight out of ten nights i'm unable to wake early, but when i am, i savour those extra hours as the most important time of day. those hours feel earned and i am naturally more interested in them as compared to the rest of the day. Lemony Snicket said and i feel these hours are important "because how you spend your morning can often tell you what kind of day you are going to have". these hours help me winnow down on the big dreams of writing, reading and other creative larger than life pursuits of life.
i have memories of days when i woke up at an early hour, sprang straight out of bed, made myself a cup of chai and went on with my writing. on such days/mornings, like today's, i feel everything a bit more, as life has been made prescient by this mere act. the days i wake up early, i find a theme to my time,a shade chart to my plans, i have my options to pick from. this widening of hope and chance, allows for me to feel life a bit more, to feel joy a bit more. on such days i also feel the satisfaction of having written a bit more. to have this otherwise unknowable, velvety satisfaction, like the froth of your best cappuccino, makes me feel special. but then again, there are days when i am just unable to write anything at all.
in my previous life, i would wake up early and go for a walk in the forest in the backyard of my DDA flat. the birds, the leaves, the sun, the sculpted tree trunks, the benches and paths all felt a a bit personalised. i could tell, by the look on the faces of my fellow morning walkers, what kind of a night they had had. it was an unusual, comforting company, found by chance.
on some days i wake up early to be able to extend my dreams and dream them through words in my notebook. i tap out words like this, the culmination of the yin-yang of waking up early and writing, a coming together of these two sweet friends who otherwise don't gel well.