Early Mornings
I am not a morning person. I never have been. My mother had to have me transferred to afternoon kindergarten. My husband was not a morning person when we met, but one of us had to get up to feed the cats, so now he does. We still don't get going as early as many of our friends do. It's a good thing that we don't have to commute to the office.
Jelaluddin Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet and mystic, wrote: "What nine months of attention does for an embryo, forty early mornings will do for your gradually growing wholeness." He was probably referring to the dawn prayer, the first of five prayers in a Muslim's day. In the Christian monastic tradition, the first of the divine hours with its prescribed prayers is "Lauds," which comes as the light breaks out of darkness.
I can't tell you how many times I've read in a spiritual book about how the author gets up at 4:00 a.m. or 5:00 a.m. for prayer, meditation, and writing. I'm sorry, but this is not for me. I can't think, let alone meditate, at that time of day. But there does seem to be something special about early mornings.
In the New Morning program on Transformation, we learn how Laurie Levin changed her life and her way of parenting by getting up earlier and having a good leisurely breakfast with her daughter. These few minutes of extra presence with each other and with the world around them seems to set them both up for the rest of the day.
Early morning is one of the few times when you can stretch time a bit. In the middle of the day, more people have to be accommodated; at the end, your body may tell you it's time to stop. But early morning is time for you, your closest loved ones, and God. I may just have to try getting up again.