Balcony Morning

Journal, Writing

I woke up at about 4:30am for my morning prayers today. Usually I fall asleep right after, but I couldn’t this morning for some reason. I twisted and turned then decided to release my mind from the shackling presupposition that I needed sleep no matter what my body’s feedback was. My body was awake, and so too would be my mind.

The kitchen was sparkly clean this morning, which is always a lovely and soothing refresher. Subdued sunshine peeked in through the closed curtains which I gently began to move to the side to let in the soft rays of calm. I tried to quietly shuffle through the mugs and kettles in the kitchen so as to not wake anyone up yet — and there was some quiet elation in those small movements. I don’t know what it is exactly about swaying so fluidly in a clean space and creating something beautiful and delicious for myself that pours so much soothed happiness into my soul. I listened to the sound of the frothed milk pour into my mug over my coffee — the crisp sound the lady fingers made as they were placed into my tiny plate and I smiled as I carried my mini breakfast into the now lit balcony. It was cool this morning; the breeze gently greeting my skin as I settled onto the small carpet laid out and crossed my legs.

Ah — warmth embraces my body as it trickles down into my stomach with every gulp. Now, it’s time to think.

The first and most immediate thought was that it was 6am and the rest of the day was at my feet. Subsequently, my stomach shrank into itself a little as I grasped the reality that I didn’t really have anything to do. It was the worst feeling ever. Seriously. I just suddenly felt like I have so much time, and nothing to accomplish.

Now, if you know me on any level, you know I breathe purpose and accomplishments and goal setting. There is always something I’m reviewing, planning on reviewing or embarking upon as a new place of study — I love the feeling of accomplishment, it is my sense of myself at times. And don’t get me wrong, this morning I had a lot of projects in motion and things at hand I could review and probably would have more reading projects to fulfill my ‘I wanna feel intellectual’ needs — but this morning I just didn’t want to. I didn’t want to do anything but I wanted to do something. Does that make sense?

Ah, whatever.

I’m writing about it now as I continue to feel residue of that emptiness, but I am hoping that it is merely a hormonal change, seasonal thing, or just ‘one of those days’ because it really isn’t true enough to hold any merit. I hope I’m not actually losing my purpose…that would suck.

How’ve you been holding up?

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