27 May

Mornings you wake up and have absolutely nothing to do are one of the greatest joys in my life. I lost the pleasure of them for a while. I still struggle to allow myself the few moments of nothingness. It is easiest when I happen to awaken before my alarm, when I feel I have stolen those moments somehow from time’s keeper.

When I was young it was easy, as most things are when you are young (even if you don’t write realize it at the time). I loved lying in bed until noon and beyond on the weekends, just being happy I didn’t have to catch a bus and make it through six hours of classes. College was more difficult with more pressure and to do lists clogging my relax function, but still manageable most Saturday mornings (or Wednesdays Mondays, sometimes despite a 9am class).

It was sometime after graduation I let adulthood taint something, let it gorilla glue my switch to “on.” I felt (feel) I always had to be accomplishing something, checking something off a list, bettering myself. All those things are true, I do always have a running “to do” list, something that needs attention, and it never feels like there is enough time to get to it all. However, recently I have begun allowing myself some time for myself. Not jumping out of bed right when the sun hits my eyes everyday doesn’t mean I am wasting time, it doesn’t mean I am missing an opportunity, and it doesn’t mean I am failing to meet my full potential (at least that is what I keep telling myself).

Bed is a treasured place. It is where I am most myself with no pressure to be anywhere or be anything else than what I am. I can read in peace and cuddle with my lover. It is where I am most often happy to throw all my cares out the window and just be. So why not steal a little extra time in the morning when the day is new and full of potential, when everything from the day or week before seems a little more distant. Why not?

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