It is generally known amongst those of you who know (very clever Wozzie) that I like my early mornings. My day starts between 04:30 am and 05:30 am depending on how I’ve slept the night before.
People always want to know why I wake up so early. And the answer is quite simple. This is me time, when I’m left alone to my thoughts and the day - as it begins. My morning meditations are not that spiritual, I don’t bang a gong or hum a hum – I simply tell myself to STOP – and enjoy a new beginning. The sun, wiping the sleep out his eyes, again, depending on his mood, will either rush out of bed in a blaze of glory, or just take his time and slowly crawl on out, sometimes he makes his bed, sometimes he does not, leaving pillows of clouds lying around.
It is also a time when the world is usually at its nicest… asleep. A time when the birds, who are usually drowned out by the droning greyness of everyday, lift their voices to the sky and welcome in a new morning, splashed with oranges and yellows.
It’s a time I’m left to the sound of my own foot steps on a tar road, pushing through sweat and aching muscles. The beating of my heart and the stinging in my eyes reminding me I’m still alive. Breathing in a cooler, fresher air. This is the time I can pretend that the earth is more than just mud and my toes are more than tools of balance. It is unforgiving and all encompassing to hold the day for exactly what it is… completely unplanned and unaccounted for.
This is when I get to take a step back from who I am everyday. This is when I remind myself to stand on my own two feet! This is when I remember, I’m running on my own two feet!
I am a bird and I’m singing again, I am free. And here, where no one can see me, I fly!
This is the time I read. Where I find time to write. When ideas rush in (where angels fear to tread? Sometimes I fear to tread there!) Where I can sit in bed and play the guitar. Where my words are free and it does not matter what I say or what I sing. Who I think and what I am.
This is where I once would wrap, so carefully, each fear, insecurity and word that I held onto in fear of being unheard, unnoticed - uninteresting, in layer upon layer of bubble wrap.
These mornings have become a sanctuary.
I am no longer afraid of my words.
I drape them in the serenity of my bedroom. String them into silly rhythms and nonsical rhymes. I swim with them and laugh with them and watch them float off in big blue bubbles. I watch them chase playfully after butterflies. I day dream and I make wishes.
I ask the words, to stay with me for the day. I ask them to help me know when to say what needs to be said, take a step back and remain silent where I need to just listen. Let me rub out lines that should not be there. Let my words not be walls around me, but rather a door to open. A story to read.
Today I mark another day off my calendar, but not off my life. I wish to live everyday as a living statement of who I am.
I do not want to miss a thing.
I am superman, bouncing from one couch to another on a movie set, that looks remarkably like my living room and I laugh at myself in the mirror, flying past in my bright red cape. Wooooooosh!!
I am super-gardener, tending to the crops growing on the windowsills in my apartment.
I am super-businessman, getting ready to jet off to LA. Holding board meetings with the dishes piling in the sink.
I am a super- rock-star on centre stage - in my bathroom. The world is my oyster. And the soap gives me a standing ovation.
I am legend