There is a loneliness in the morning. Something I’ve been able to sleep away until now. I have a dream or keep warm under the covers and by the time I start to get ready for work it’s gone away. I’ve always believed that when I'm in an emotion it will stay with me forever. So right now, I believe that this lonely feeling will come to me for the first two hours I’m awake for the rest of my life. It’s a long scary black tunnel.
Then I started to run this morning. I can now go around the block twice in less than 30 minutes. It used to take me 20 just to do the block once and I’d be tired out. In comparison this is day number five of not going back to sleep; I’m going to need practice waking up in the morning. Which means: I have no need to be scared that my mornings will feel like this for the rest of my life.
There is a loneliness when I use these extra hours and focus on a piece of writing. All of my stuff is a work-in-progress and this morning I couldn’t figure out what steps to take it to the next level. I wondered should I sit here and read it over and over to see if I can come up with the next step, or do I put it aside and read or listen to music or “play” with the piano and stop feeling like I’m wasting my time?
There are so many options that a piece of writing has that I haven’t learned to identify. Is it supposed to be a poem, a blog, a short story, a script? Do I spend hours structuring it or do I let it flow from my fingertips and fix it up later? Do I just pick one and work on it or do I put them all out in front of me and pick one that speaks to me on this occasion?
Already I’m a fine procrastinator. Again, by mind believes that this will be the ritual for every morning that I wake up early. Maybe it’s just another trick my brain is using; telling me that getting up this early is a waste of time and I’d be better off going back to sleep.
So, I write it, share it, be aware of it, and say that it will get better. It will make sense as time goes on.