"Early Morning Coffee" (Text & Image Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
I am an early morning person.
Before the world stirs, before the day unrolls its obligations and noise, I step quietly into the morning. The sky is soft with first light, the air fresh and cool like a clean page waiting to be written on. A mug of strong coffee warms my hands. The gentle strains of classical music float through the air—Mozart, perhaps, or Debussy—blending seamlessly with the birdsong, which is its own symphony of joy and presence. Cardinals, wrens, and robins sing the praises of another day simply because they are alive to greet it.
This is my meditative time. These early hours are not merely the start of a day—they are a sacred pause. A hush before life begins to clatter.
And yet, I must admit, there are mornings when I am reluctant to begin. I sit on the deck with coffee in hand and feel a shadow of heaviness. I can’t always explain it. Perhaps it's the residue of yesterday’s noise—the constant clamor of a world too often defined by conflict, cruelty, and confusion. Perhaps it is the ache of witnessing truth bent into shapes unrecognizable. The distortion of what should be simple: honesty, kindness, justice.
On those mornings, I find myself bemused by the weight pressing softly but insistently at my shoulders.
But thankfully, those mornings are rare. And when they do arrive, I’ve learned what to do. I shift the focus of my being. I close my eyes and breathe. I remind myself—gently, like a mother waking a child—that this moment is all that truly matters. I begin to count my blessings, not out of obligation but out of reverence. Health. Home. Love. The great triumvirate of grace. And then more—the sound of birdsong, the riot of red blooms beside the deck railing, the intricate curls of a wrought-iron chair warmed by the rising sun.
I give thanks for being here. For breathing. For being able to notice the beauty that surrounds me even in uncertain times.
There is a quote I hold close on such mornings:
"Perhaps the best way to have a full experience of life and love is to welcome all of it with an open mind and heart." ~Anonymous.
And another, from Thich Nhat Hanh, whose words are as gentle as the dawn:
"Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion."
And so I smile.
And so, I breathe.
And so, surrounded by birdsong and blossoms, I begin this day—with gratitude, with presence, and with hope.
~Wylddane
Before the world stirs, before the day unrolls its obligations and noise, I step quietly into the morning. The sky is soft with first light, the air fresh and cool like a clean page waiting to be written on. A mug of strong coffee warms my hands. The gentle strains of classical music float through the air—Mozart, perhaps, or Debussy—blending seamlessly with the birdsong, which is its own symphony of joy and presence. Cardinals, wrens, and robins sing the praises of another day simply because they are alive to greet it.
This is my meditative time. These early hours are not merely the start of a day—they are a sacred pause. A hush before life begins to clatter.
And yet, I must admit, there are mornings when I am reluctant to begin. I sit on the deck with coffee in hand and feel a shadow of heaviness. I can’t always explain it. Perhaps it's the residue of yesterday’s noise—the constant clamor of a world too often defined by conflict, cruelty, and confusion. Perhaps it is the ache of witnessing truth bent into shapes unrecognizable. The distortion of what should be simple: honesty, kindness, justice.
On those mornings, I find myself bemused by the weight pressing softly but insistently at my shoulders.
But thankfully, those mornings are rare. And when they do arrive, I’ve learned what to do. I shift the focus of my being. I close my eyes and breathe. I remind myself—gently, like a mother waking a child—that this moment is all that truly matters. I begin to count my blessings, not out of obligation but out of reverence. Health. Home. Love. The great triumvirate of grace. And then more—the sound of birdsong, the riot of red blooms beside the deck railing, the intricate curls of a wrought-iron chair warmed by the rising sun.
I give thanks for being here. For breathing. For being able to notice the beauty that surrounds me even in uncertain times.
There is a quote I hold close on such mornings:
"Perhaps the best way to have a full experience of life and love is to welcome all of it with an open mind and heart." ~Anonymous.
And another, from Thich Nhat Hanh, whose words are as gentle as the dawn:
"Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion."
And so I smile.
And so, I breathe.
And so, surrounded by birdsong and blossoms, I begin this day—with gratitude, with presence, and with hope.
~Wylddane
"Early Morning Coffee II" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
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