Waking Up is an Art, and I’m Still Sketching

What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?

They say, “Win the morning, win the day.” But what if the morning wins you? My first hour is less like a well-rehearsed symphony and more like a jazz band where every instrument plays at its own pace, yet somehow, it works.

Every night, I tell myself, Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I will wake up early, stretch, meditate, drink warm lemon water, and start the day like a wellness guru. But reality has other plans. The next morning, either my kids’ voices or my alarm (whichever is louder) jolts me into consciousness.

“Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time.” – Glen Cook

I give thanks to God for another beautiful day, freshen up, and sometimes—very rarely—help my mom in the kitchen. Let’s be honest, she’s a much better cook, and I mostly just stand there pretending to be useful.

Then comes my sacred ritual: tea. “Humanity runs on tea,” said someone wise (probably a sleep-deprived parent). That first sip is a moment of existential clarity, a warm hug in a cup. Just as I begin to believe in miracles, someone spills something, and my enlightenment is postponed.

Once my kids are off to school, I finally sit down for work, wondering how the morning vanished in a blink.

Thought to ponder: Is the morning truly a battle, or just an unchoreographed dance where every misstep is part of the rhythm?