Its Not What You First Think

I don’t know about you, but I occasionally come across some little nugget of wisdom in a blog or on Facebook (usually in a blog on Facebook) and I think, “Ooh, that’s a gem.”  If the spirit moves me I pass it along to others.  I may set the intention of remembering that thought or idea, weaving it into my daily life...and then “my daily life” happens and the intention slips away, usually without the awareness that anything was lost. 

A little while back, a dear friend, Erin Goodman, wrote a blog post that effected me in this way.    She wrote of how she had created a morning ritual for herself, wherein she would wake early and sit, listening to some soft music, and drink her coffee or tea before her children awoke and the day was set in motion.  Actually, the post was about how much she had enjoyed this ritual, and then it slipped away, and it was her wise eight year old daughter who mentioned (in her own way) how much she enjoyed the serenity to which she awoke when her mom practiced this morning ritual. Mama spinning in the kitchen, pushing breakfast, packing lunches, confirming schedules set one tone. Mama sitting in a chair with her coffee and soft music set quite another.  Erin had the realization that this ritual she had practiced not only effected her own morning, but that of her whole family.  

At the time mornings in my house were dreadful.  Literally, I was full of dread about that hour between waking up and getting into the car for work and school.  For the first time since my children were born (now three and six years old) I had to set an alarm to get out of bed, wake the children, and get ready to go, go, go.  This whole process was complicated by the fact that I am not what you would call a “morning person” and I fear I may have passed on this gene.  The Stewart ladies enjoy a slow start to the day.  The second and quite possibly more tortuous  complication was that, having spent most of the summer like this...

my three year old wanted no part of actual clothes.  {“Bring her to school in her pajamas,” said Miss Barbara.  “Um, she doesn’t wear pajamas,” said I.} The beauty of being a "stay at home" mom, when faced with a willful three year old, is that you often (not always, but often) have the leisure of saying, “We can’t go to (insert activity here) until you are dressed appropriately.”  This does not quite work when you are faced with having to leave for work, like, now.  

Flash forward a month or so and mornings are a lot less painful.  We have figured out the tricks.  Some are obvious, like packing the lunches and having the girls pick out their clothes the night before...things I knew (and had no doubt suggested to other parents) but perhaps I was just too tired or overwhelmed to follow through with myself.  Admittedly, not every morning is smooth (fine, we may have woken some neighbors this morning with some high pitched shrieking en route to the car) but for the most part we have settled into a less painful morning routine.  

When I read Erin’s post, though it resonated with me, I just didn’t see how sitting mindfully and blissfully with a cup of coffee was going to fit into the craziness of our mornings.  

Then this morning I opened an email that contained a poem by one of my favorite poets, Brian Andreas.  I immediately thought of Erin and her wisdom.

It is not what you first think.

There is no effort of will,

no firm resolve in the face

of this thing called living.

There is only paying attention

to the quiet each morning,

while you hold your cup

in the cool air

& then 

that moment

you choose 

to spread your 

love like a cloth

upon the table

and invite the whole day

in again.

I believe

my alarm clock

will be set

a bit earlier

tomorrow. 

{You can Erin Goodman’s post and find lots of other Erin Goodman goodness here.}