Mary Oliver Monday - Why I Wake Early or Why I don't meditate (or do much of anything) early

WHY I WAKE EARLY by Mary Oliver from Why I Wake Early (Beacon Press)
Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety –
best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light –
good morning, good morning, good morning.
Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

Okay so I don't exactly wake early.  Nor do I get up and wander in the woods, ramble in the fields, or stroll along the shore as Mary Oliver writes about doing in so many of her poems.  I've tried to be that kind of morning person but I've come to accept that I need to take time to rub the sleep out of my eyes and ease into the day rather than leaping out of bed and embracing it with arms and eyes wide open. 

Yumaroo!

I was reminded of that again this morning.  I woke up and decided that before I did anything, I'd do my meditation.  I used to meditate most mornings on waking, especially when I was working in the city and had an hour commute for a ten mile drive.  I found that once I got up and moving, it was harder to make the time to sit and be still.  Lately though, I've settled into a new morning routine-- waking, quickly checking e-mail, news headlines, and the weather forecast for the day before getting out of bed and getting dressed.  Then it's to the kitchen to make coffee and assemble breakfast (Liberte coconut yogurt is my new guilty pleasure-- chock full of fat but I've been using almond milk in my coffee as penance).  Balancing my mug and bowl, I head to my desk where I eat, drink and write my morning pages.  Then, usually about 10ish, I'm finally ready for my morning meditation.  That is my routine, the rhythm to which I've become accustomed. 

I've been thinking a lot about routine lately.  Last night I read a great article in "O" magazine by author Aimee Bender on "The Writer's Contract."  The idea of the contract is to settle into a writing routine for which the individual is accountable, writing a set number of days and hours (or minutes) per day. More than the contract idea itself, her words on routine, the essential part of the process, are what really resonated with me.  Likening a set writing time to the analytical frame in therapy, Bender suggests that giving the creative impulse structure as well as room in which to be expressed, is often the safest way to access our unconscious without feeling overwhelmed.  As she put it, "If left to my own devices, a blank page and a free day and that meadow, little will get done and I'll feel awful about it.  But put me in a box for two set hours and say go?  It is one of the most steadying elements of my life."

As much as I know myself and embrace the fact that on the Myers-Briggs I'm definitely a P at heart, I also appreciate that my energy is such that if I don't have some structure to my time, I too will happily race around that meadow and get nothing done, flitting from idea to idea, project to project, thought to thought, like an overstimulated toddler.  Routine is good for me.  There.  I've said it.  In writing and in a public forum.  Although I prefer to call it a rhythm or pattern rather than a routine.  That seems more flexible, gracious, gentle. 

Monkey mind isn't nearly as fun as I remember this toy being.

So on my to do list for today is to write my own writer's contract.  In addition, I am going to write a blogger's contract.  I haven't been very good about posting regularly here since the end of my Lenten daily posts but that will change as of this week.  I pledge to do a Mary Oliver Monday and Billy Collins Sunday post every week in addition to a mid-week post on another topic.  A routine I think I can manage, albeit I'm not promising any early morning posts.  And as for meditating early?  This morning I had not just monkey mind, but three ring circus mind.  Tomorrow I go back to meditating after breakfast.  And I admit that returning to my routine is a comforting thought.