Dear bunnies,
I have been thinking about slow mornings lately.
Not the kind you see online. The ones with the perfect sunlight, the pretty breakfast, someone somehow awake before the rest of the world. I love looking at those too, but that is not really what I mean.
I mean the kind of morning where you are not already panicking before your feet touch the floor.
The kind where you have a little room to breathe before the day starts asking things from you.
I know not everyone has a lot of time in the morning. Some people are getting children ready. Some have a long commute. Some wake up already tired. Some mornings are loud before they even begin.
So when I say I want a slow morning, I do not mean I want to do nothing.
I do not mean moving slowly through every task. I do not mean being late, avoiding responsibility, or pretending there is nowhere I need to be.
I think I mean a slow approach.
A slower way of meeting the day.
I can still take a bath, sit at my desk, answer messages, write, plan, and finish my work. I can still have a full day. I just do not want to begin it feeling like I am being chased, or like I have to chase after everything at once.
A slow morning is not about being slow at what you do.
It is about being more present while you do it.
I think we have gotten so used to rushing that we mistake it for being responsible. Like if we are tired enough, busy enough, already thinking about ten things at once, then maybe we are doing life properly.
But hurry is not always the same as purpose.
And a slow approach does not mean giving life a half-hearted effort either. It means bringing your full self to what is in front of you without letting fear rush you through it.
You can be moving all morning and still not feel like you have arrived in your own life.
I have had mornings where I was doing everything at once. Brushing my teeth while checking my phone. Thinking about work while making breakfast. Looking at messages while trying to get dressed.
My body was in the room, but my mind was already scattered everywhere else.
Maybe you know that feeling too.
Nothing has even happened yet, but you already feel behind.
That is what I do not want anymore.
It was never the movement. It was never the responsibility.
Just that feeling of leaving myself behind before the day even starts.
A slow approach does not mean I stop doing what needs to be done. It means I try to do one thing at a time.
I take a bath.
I get dressed.
I sit down to work.
I answer what needs answering.
I do the next right thing.
There are still days when I need to move quickly. Things that cannot wait. Messages, deadlines, words to write, plans to make, work waiting for me.
But I am learning that I can move quickly without becoming frantic.
I can be productive without speaking harshly to myself.
I can have a full day without letting the full day have all of me before it has even begun.
I work from home, so my place is also my office. I think that is why I needed my space to feel a little more like one too.
Not cold.
Not too serious.
Just a place that helps me know when it is time to begin. A place where I can sit down, open my laptop, and feel like I have arrived somewhere, even when I have not gone anywhere at all.
I do not make coffee first either.
I know that is part of many people’s mornings. Coffee first. Phone away. A quiet cup by the window.
Mine is a little different.
When I wake up, I look at the ceiling for a while.
Not for long. Just enough to feel the day.
Just enough gratefulness to remember I am here again. That I have been given another morning. That there is still a body under these blankets, still a room around me, still a life waiting quietly on the other side of getting up.
There is something quiet in noticing what is already here before reaching for what is next.
Then I take a bath.
I have learned that this is what helps me most. Something about it makes me feel like I have entered the day properly. I have more energy after. I feel awake. I feel ready. The water helps me leave sleep behind without having to rush myself out of it.
I do not take a bath slowly to make the morning look beautiful.
I take a bath because I have noticed it helps me begin well.
That is what I mean by a slow approach.
I am not delaying the day.
I am preparing myself to meet it.
For some people, maybe it is coffee. A walk. A quiet breakfast. Music while the house is still asleep. A few pages. A few lines in a journal.
For me, it is looking at the ceiling for minutes. It is enough gratefulness to feel the day. Then it is a bath. Warm water. Clean skin. The feeling of having woken up properly.
Sometimes I pray there too. Not always in long, beautiful sentences. Sometimes it is only, “God, help me be here today” or “Give me success in everything I do today”. Sometimes it is someone I love, held quietly in my mind for a moment before I say anything at all. Love does not always need many words to reach God either.
Sometimes I do not say much of anything. I just stand under the water and let myself become awake.
I think God understands that too.
He does not need me to make it fancy.
After that, I walk into the part of my home where I work. I sit down. I open my laptop.
There are still things to do. Emails. Words. Plans. Work waiting for me.
But I do not feel like I have been thrown into them.
I feel ready.
Maybe a slow morning is not about having more time.
Maybe it is about how you approach the time you already have.
It is not about doing less.
It is not about moving without purpose.
It is not about a perfect routine that looks good from the outside.
It is about beginning in a way that lets you arrive first.
You can still have somewhere to be.
You can still have work to do.
You can still move quickly when you need to.
But I hope you do not have to start every day already afraid.
I hope you find one small thing that helps you feel the day before it starts pulling at you.
Maybe it is coffee.
Maybe it is a prayer.
Maybe it is a quiet breakfast.
Maybe it is looking at the ceiling for a little while.
Whatever it is, I hope it helps you remember that you are a person before you are productive.
And that God is already with you before you have done anything useful.
You do not have to leave yourself behind to begin.
