Why early mornings are my sanctum sanctorum

Why early mornings are my sanctum sanctorum…

Lie- ins? That’s surely a huge lie in my book: come rain or shine, cold or warm, weekday or weekend, I am up and alert by the crack of dawn, mostly by 5.00 am or sometimes earlier. My husband of 15 years has noticed what a mental energizer bunny I am in the morning. As a night owl who normally goes to bed after 11, he has plenty of admiration for people like me who can ping, wake up in the morning mostly without an alarm, and be chirpy and annoying as heck and full of beans.

Sometimes the full of beans bit gets him irritated when he gets all bleary -eyed and struggling to even open his eyes. He looks at me incredulously, and asks, me if I am for real? This is when I wake him up for a bit of loving. Or chatting. Sometimes in the early mornings, I feel most sexy, not that the morning dew or chirping birds act as au naturel aphrodisiacs but by 8.30pm most nights, I am exhausted and weary and I’m already dressed in my clown striped or polka pajamas and would fall asleep reading to my younger children. Not to mention that I pretty much would have packed a full-on 14 hour day before navigating through a quagmire of adult expectations, and I would be completely bushed.

Sometimes, I sing “Morning Has Broken” or “It’s a beautiful day” at the top of my voice in his ear, for a laugh and for him to know his wife is for real. It keeps our marriage intact. Yes, my best energy is often expended fully in the morning.

But it has only been in recent years that we noticed this morning zest which seems to possess me from the hours of 5-9am. My first lessons are always packed potently with high energy activities; my poor poor students raging with teen hormones and very late nights and often inadequate sleep; I feel for them.

I falter a little bit by late morning and if I do carbs for lunch, the witching hour of 2pm sees me on the verge of falling asleep in the middle of my own sentence but there’s always a stash of little mints in my drawer to get that zing back. A power nap of about 5 minutes serves me well at about 4pm if I am home by then. By 7pm I turn into a grumpy witch.

Now, back to my 5.00am love for this part of the day. After my spleen, colon and liver and all that have been recharged, my first activity is a full-on detox session on my private throne where I’m usually on my iPhone catching up on the latest new feeds on Facebook which I would have, horror- stricken, missed from 9-5am- usually reading news links from the NYT, the Atlantic, Salon, France 24, the Guardian and the Elephant Journal. I am neither a yogi or a vegan but I do like my articles on news, life, arts and such. After that it’s at least 30 to 45 minutes of marking and some form of prep for school-without trying to get on my phone or ipad to check on the latest notifications and what not.

Before the advent of such rapid pinging technology, my mornings would best be spent doing some simple yoga twists and meditating and making notes on my writing.

Not checking up on the latest news feeds like every ten minutes. So sometimes, I turn my devices off to not get distracted.

Early mornings is my sanctum sanctorum. Holy of holiest. When I can truly be me.

When you have 3 children and about 100-odd students and a tiny business, all clamouring for your attention of a daily basis, peace and quiet in the morning when you think and perform best is highly valued. No one else is awake before me. The birds gently chirp outside. Your partner’s low humming snore is mildly comforting as you slip out of the fuzzy, soft bed covers and into the master bathroom and claim it all to yourself.

No 6 year old is going to come to declare that Mummy, your poo is smelly and to tell you that there is someone at the door. The dogs are still in semi-sleep and no one else is moving. With a mug of very warm water or sometimes a herbal tea in hand, I sit on my study desk and write, or ponder. Or just be. My mind is acute, sharp.

Some days, I get two hot used tea bags hastily dipped, and lie on my long sofa in my TV room and ponder, be still and think. Or two slices of cold cucumber to sooth my tired early morning eyes.

On holidays, I have caught stunning sunrises and experienced tuna auctions that only happen at dawn. Some days, upon reading some fantastic student essays, I get so carried away with my feedback and comments and award more merits and stars than I would normally do.

Some mornings, well most, I stay still and pray in the darkness before I even get out of bed. I know THEY are listening as I can feel the ‘fissures’ of responses in my being. I pray for all good things for the world, for my family and friends and invite all positive thoughts into my head.

Some days, I write a lot in my organizer or on notes on my phone. The other morning, I wrote out 15 Christmas cards for overseas mailing. I still love good old fashioned snail mail.

Or I arrange cushions and redecorate a little bit. And when Bruno, our terrier wakes up, he comes for a cuddles and nibbles my toes.

Oh, the wonders and possibilities of early mornings. My poetry time. My running time. Sometimes, dog walking time if I’m not marking.

Because by the time the rest of the world wakes up, I’m screwed and scrambling for time that seems to run-away at a second a minute from the loose clutches of my palms.

Only from 5-7, those sacred hours can I preserve my sanctity in my sanctum sanctorum of early morning solitude. I better treasure this for as long as I can as I have noticed of late, that my little boy, has taken after me in being a morning person too. Oh shudder!