I’m constantly surprised at how many fewer morning people there are than I’d expect. Not only does that mean that no one else wants to wake up early with me, but on their front–they’re missing out on the (slightly more) unblemished day.
See, in the morning, the heat of the day hasn’t touched the air yet. The air, deliciously breathable and crisp, is lighter than a biscuit. The light, golden and buttery, gently shines on almost literally everything.
And everyone ignores it.
Here we have our planet literally showing off for us–but we, the dominant life forms on this planet would rather have a date with another mistress:
I mean, really?
I get it, I do. The bed is comfy, and cozy and all the rest. And sleep is important.
But when we get up early anyway, we might as well stop and smell those roses and make the most of what we’ve got. See, there’s a choice we have to make whenever we get up early–and it’s what determines morning-personability: whether or not to look.
It’s easy to hide behind the mask of “the morning”. It’s not complicated to shrug everything off and hidey hole away into ourselves early on. To a certain extent, it’s physical. But to a larger extent, it’s decision-based. The decision to put forth the effort to enjoy those extra waking hours is ours.
What happens if we do? A better mood? A higher chance to observe something beautiful? Perhaps.
But the real beauty of the early morning is that there’s no line to smell the roses. Take that how you will.