But First, Writing
I recently wrote another piece for McSweeney’s, which is a satire to call out the romanticization of BIPOC trauma in publishing.
My first flash story ! A little surreal, a little reflective.
Mornings Are When I Feel Closest to Myself
When I first moved to the Bay, mornings were a sludge of time squeezed into the buttoned constraints of the dreaded bus schedule. There was only one bus that worked (not that it was always reliable), but if I missed the bus, I would have a small panic attack as I waited for the next one, using my time waiting outside to come up scour through work emails, take care of collateral, rearrange my day, and then hang my head for the hour-long commute on which I had nothing to do but contemplate the shame of walking into the meeting 20 minutes late. I didn’t realize how anxiety-provoking it was to make the bus, and moreover, I didn’t realize it was exhausting.
When the pandemic happened, mornings opened up and I suddenly had a gift that was far above my pay-grade. The beginning of the day lost its shape. Mornings felt like something to wrangle and seize and shove into a box of productivity. A very narrow definition of productivity. I would plan out my mornings minute by minute, and if I missed something in my schedule, I would be thrown off for the day. I would become cranky. I had taken an opportunity and turned it into a source of anxiety.
In other words, I made a bus schedule of my mornings.
This became unstable after a certain point in the pandemic when I could no longer negotiate the drive for productivity against the constant existential anxiety it was causing me. It was a time that was mentally challenging for almost everyone in the whole world, and my very effort to take advantage of the minuscule perks of the pandemic had backfired. I had more time, but I felt more chaotic than ever. I had set myself up for failure.
After I crashed and burned my mornings, I decided to take a step back. I took a few mornings off to figure out what I really wanted. To just breathe. I didn’t do much of anything for a while, but eventually I was ready to try again.
Breathing into my mornings was a form of trial and error. For a few months, I dedicated mornings to coffee-making and morning pages (a concept from The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron). This was a fantastic way to figure myself out. For those who don’t know, morning pages are when you handwrite a stream of consciousness for 30 minutes every morning.
What worked the most for me with morning pages was the release. The first 20 minutes of writing felt like I was clearing my throat for the day. Some days the entire exercise was a deluge of nonsense, but once in a while, a sentence would cut through like a signal in the noise and point me toward what was on my heart. Those sentences were a treasure. With them, I could see clearly what the deepest part of me desired the shape of the day to be.
It took time, but I started to see a difference between my “bus schedule” mornings and the ones I was practicing. Both had to same goal: productivity, but in the morning pages, I was able to consider mornings as Time the Art Form rather than Time the Resource.
What I mean by that is, time is a not a negotiable resource. You can’t save time for a rainy day, or dispense it to yourself at your will. It’s happening. You’re in it. Placing inflexible expectations on time, and balancing your self worth on how strictly you can adhere to it is a guaranteed way to knock yourself over.
Eventually, I let go of the morning pages as they began to feel more like a chore. It’s ironic, because early in the morning pages routine, they always feel like a chore because that was the whole point. In that way, it is like therapy. It requires an investment up front and some peace with the fact that it is going to be unpleasant. It does get better, thought. However, when they once again began to feel like a chore, I was resisting not because it was difficult, but because my body was yearning to invest in other tasks. I began to fill my timespace with projects that the morning pages had signaled to me. Sometimes, my “project” was making a group run. Sometimes it was sitting still with my cat. Sometimes, it was doing dishes from the night before.
And sometimes, it was to write, write, write.
I still keep morning pages as a tool in my back pocket if I ever need them, but these days, mornings are where I feel closest to myself. Since I have done the work upfront to know how to understand what my body is asking for, I can acquiesce to it. But still, it’s not possible to know what to do every day. Sometimes it feels like the mornings keep coming, and I don’t know if I am getting them right. My best antidote then is to try to delete the vocabulary of productivity from my vernacular, at least for the morning. Rather than thinking about “accomplish” or “goal”, I instead focus on words like, “presence” or “quietude”. I want to spend my morning doing something that makes me feel fuller in my humanity. Often, it’s the only time in my day I get to focus on anything outside of productivity.
So dear reader, I hope today meets you with an affirmation and a small joy, just enough to get you going. Or, if you’re like me and are fully embracing spooky season, I hope you are met with a fantastic jump scare. In any case, I want to share some articles and resources that have helped me feel grounded in my mornings.
Next week, I will dive more into the mechanics of a productive morning for myself. I would love to share some of your ideas and advice too.
If you have particular morning rituals, let me know.
Perfect Books to Open the Morning
The Complete Stories of Leonora Carrington - these surreal stories spin entirely new worlds, but make it economical. You can get swept up in them for as little or as much time as you have in the morning. Most stories end at the exact moment of climax, so no cliffhangers to lose your mind over.
Mrs. Caliban by Rachel Ingalls - If you have one long stretch of a morning, you can plow through this one in its entirety. It is so fantastic. I screamed multiple times. I love a lady-lizard romance whose subtext is an interrogation of female domesticity.
Split Tooth by Tanya Tagaq - Read this on audio. Listen while you fold your laundry, do dishes, or pet your puppy. The author is an Inuk throat singer, and the story is mesmerizing when told in her voice and with her singing.
Maud Martha by Gwendolyn Brooks - Please don’t leave this earth without having read this book. That is all.
Readings for the Morning
These two graphic articles are excellent for a small history lesson while
Speaking of coffee, this article helped me understand coffee roasting
Trying to write this morning? Here are som catapult essays on how:
to write personal essays
to ground yourself in poetry
to tell a good story
Wellness non-negotiables - do you have any?
Interesting concept for productivity: self-mesmerism
Some short stories to read this morning (emphasis on short):
The Final Girl as a Middle-Aged Woman by Amber Sparks
The Patchwork Dolls by Ysabelle Cheung
Maintenance Requests by Ben Sandman
I enjoy starting my mornings with a little stretch session and a walk outdoors. I try to stop for a few minutes on my walk to meditate and focus on my breathing. It helps me get in the right head space before I jump into a workday that is often unpredictable.