In our family, my mother had a bit of a reputation for NOT being a “morning person”. Her pulse didn’t even register until she painstakingly made her way to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee (no, back then it was instant dehydrated-looking stuff you mixed with boiling water), and light up that first precious cigarette of the day. Dressed in her robe, she sat at the kitchen table with her head held up by the one free hand left to do the job, with smoke curling all around her as she sipped steaming coffee. Her face was a display of exhaustion and despair.
My father was, quite annoyingly, the opposite. He had nothing on the Bluebird of Happiness and, because he was probably secretly pissed at my mom for….well, being Mom, he would burst through my closed bedroom door unannounced (and always too early) with a theater-projecting, “Good Moooorrrning Sunshine!” Living in Florida had convinced him he was the Sunshine King and, I, the wayfaring subject to be conformed under his expert (and oblivious) dominion. Neither of my parents’ routines worked for me, and both left a lasting impression.
Needless to say, how I wake up has become important, and I noticed today my current morning ritual pays homage to both my parents. As the apple not far from my mother’s tree, I am aware upon waking, that my mind does not immediately churn out thoughts of anticipatory thrill over another day’s existence as a human being. My body’s chronic aches and pains then conspire to add some dread, and any limiting conditions I may be struggling with, pop up eagerly to assume the exclusive lead role. Left unmanaged, my mind would easily relinquish to the onslaught, and happily deliver me straight to my mother’s kitchen table in the sky for quite a long chat. (Yes, misery and toxins do shorten one’s life; she passed decades ago from pancreatic cancer.)
Rather than adhere to my father’s intrusive greeting and demand for positivity, I grab whatever current material I am reading or using for my spiritual practice. For thirty-some years it was Unity’s Daily Word; now it happens to be the Course in Miracles and the Tao Te Ching. I read words that speak of a higher truth beyond the illusions of the material plane, and of my inherent power and ability to create from a higher source within. I remember my Oneness; my connection to others, and how we are here to love. I yield my mind to Spirit and ask for the help I need. I offer forgiveness and then pray ahead the day, blessing every person and circumstance I know I will be dealing with. Sometimes I journal or pull my own cards from the spiritual decks that I use for readings.
And then, in the compassionately resurrected marriage of the two, I go to the kitchen to grind fresh coffee beans and brew the most divine, half-caff cappuccino, prepare a healthy organic breakfast, take my supplements, and return to my bedroom for stretching and an hour of meditation before moving into the rest of the day.
It may be some effort, but the time I take each morning to return to the truth of who I really am and connect to my spiritual parentage, is the time that ensures the day’s potential to yield the miraculous synchronicity and support of the Universe that makes each and every day worth living – and waking up for! (Cappuccinos don’t hurt either.)
A beautiful ritual that transforms the habits taught by those who did their best (or their worst) raising us…