In the fantasy morning, I open my eyes naturally. My body is relaxed with rest and eager to move. My thoughts – quiet in sleep – turn on in an energizing hum. There is a cat at my side. It licks my hand in greeting. Let’s make it two cats.
In the fantasy, I do the trick that a handful of motivational speakers tout: leap out of bed and shout, or do ten jumping jacks, or turn on some music and fucking dance.
(It’s my fantasy for a reason – I am the type of person who likes hokey energy tricks but I do not have the type of body who will obey me easily before dawn
In the fantasy, I am bursting with creative fervor – my plot holes have sewn themselves shut in the night and my protagonist is buzzing at my fingertips, eager to get their character growth all over the page. I write a thousand words before my stomach rumbles.
In the fantasy, I have thought to have fruit in the house for breakfast. (In the fantasy I hadn’t procrastinated grocery shopping and had at least a granola bar lying around.) I use the Magic Bullet and make myself a smoothie. I know how to use the Magic Bullet.
This morning, I do not know how to use the Magic Bullet. It doesn’t matter – I don’t have any fruit.
This morning, the thought of working on fiction barely brushes my consciousness. My dear hero, Jack, has planted his feet in his muddied plot and is refusing to move. I’m going to let him
This morning, I keep blinking my eyes awake as I read my book club book (Confessions of the Fox by Jordy Rosenberg – I’ll keep you posted) and the only reason I haven’t turned my light back off is a promise I made to try to take my mornings back.
This morning, I set my alarm to wake me up with NPR. It was not as energizing as I thought but I listened to thirteen minutes before I trusted myself to get out of bed. Drink water. Brush my teeth. Get back in bed to read (flirting with danger).
I keep the mantra up in my head: I will go to the gym. I will go to the gym. I will go to the gym.
In the fantasy, of course, there is no resistance to the routine. But in my life, all my routines are a little bit of a fight. I often need a stern talking to – me
This morning, I got up. I meditated. I read. I wrote. I will go to the gym (I will go to the gym). This morning I am embraced all the momentum of New Year promises despite the grating resistance and lure of returning to sleep when it comes easily (as I wish it did more often at night). The trick of course is doing it every day.
But that’s a battle for tomorrow.
With Love,
Natalie