My Mornings

“Oh what a beautiful mornin’,
Oh what a beautiful day.
I got a beautiful feelin’
Ev’rythings’ goin’ my way.”
–Oscar Hammerstein II

My informal, online artists’ group comes up with idea starter topics.  Recently, a member from Saskatoon came up with the idea that we should write about how we start a typical morning.  I said, I’d do a blog post, then everyone who cares enough can read about it.

Most mornings I awaken before the alarm clock beeps.  On Sundays, I stay in bed a few minutes to hear the canned classical music beamed to the public radio station via satellite.  Then I’m up.

Since I’ve transitioned into semi-retirement, I found a reservoir of energy I’d never felt when I was younger.  I’m usually out of bed by 3:55 AM.  Just a few years ago, I slipped into bed by around 6:00 AM then awakened in the early afternoon. Except for the digital readouts and two dim nightlights, the house is dark as I begin the morning routines.

I enjoy the day’s first cup of joe as I gaze out the window at the dark yard.  Sometimes I listen to a Dharma podcast on my iPod.  I gave up the bad habit of starting my day with a newscast.  If I want a weather update on a threatening morning, I turn on my old police band reciever that now only picks up the NOAA weather broadcasts.  Otherwise, I’d rather have silence or a spiritual lesson, first thing in the day.

Quite often, the Oscar Hammerstein verse plays over and over in my head while I stare into the darkness.  Oh yes, I sit in the darkness while I sip the coffee.  Later, I flip on a dim light when it’s time to enjoy a light breakfast, usually cold cereal.

I used to pretend that I was a vampire being.  I’d race home from work to arrive before sunrise.  I loved getting up in the afternoon.  There is a delicious, almost naughty feeling about sleeping past noon.  I revelled in that sensation for decades.

I look forward to hitting the gym. So after breakfast I’m out the door and into the ol’ Camry. The neighbors could probably synchronize their clocks to the time I pull out of the driveway each morning.

Soon I’m standing at the front doors to the “Y” awaiting the janitor’s approach with his bundle of keys to unlock the building.  We exchange pleasantries then I dash off to the locker room to change into my togs for the workout.  The Expresso virtual reality bike beckons me over for another arduous ride.

Even when sleeping past noon was my norm, I still hit the gym right after breakfast.  The socializing and exertion have woven themselves into my life and remained for years.  I’ll probably look for ways to work out when I get older and crotchety.

The last portion of “My Morning” is writing time.  Even if I complete the writing in the AM, I consider the writing time as the borderline.  The focus of writing time is the final research, if needed, and composition of bluejayblog.  As of now, I post a new essay two weeks ahead of when it becomes public.  In other words, as I write these words, today is January 19th.  This leeway allows for corrections and updates.  When each post appears, it’s often as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.  This gives me the luxury of objectivity.

“To get up early, filled with energy and enthusiasm, wonderfully ready to commit some wretched nastiness.” — E.M. Cioran

If I have extra writing time aside from blogging, I work through some writing exercises, perhaps poetry, or I might experiment with some short story composition.  I’m not ready to publish poems yet.  However, I’ve used a few stories as blogposts.  There may be more in this space in the future or I may need to start a different, less frequently updated blog for that purpose.  Who knows?  It will likely be grounded in my mornings, too.

To be awake in the early morning is a wonderful lifestyle choice.


Here’s a thought from the Blue Jay of Happiness:  “This morn the air smells of vanilla and oranges.”–Ralph Waldo Emerson 

About swabby429

An eclectic guy who likes to observe the world around him and comment about those observations.
This entry was posted in Contemplation, Health, Hometown, Meanderings and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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