A taste of my between-books writing

... and first of all, you're right, I need to say something about what this blog post title means. Nothing much really, it is just that I have finished, for the time being, my edits of my first novel, the second is in my head or handwritten along the lines of my morning pages journal,  I'm keeping my writing muscles sharp with other writing at the moment. You might call them fragments, very small essays, essentially, they are my thinking on the page ...


I'm a morning person, I know this, my habits show this and my genes confirm it.

I love the first-thing-in-the-morning air. There is something about its regularity and difference each day. The way it predicts, or tries to, or I think it can,  say something about what might happen for the rest of the day.

I love the feel of that air on my arms, my feet, my neck, being able to sense how it is moving or not moving, the weight of it, the colour of it. The aura it creates, each and every day.

I love the way it is there each morning when I wake up, spreading itself onwards, holding sounds, echoing those sounds, saying something about the day with the sounds.

It seems important to notice what the air at that time is doing, to pay attention to its words. Early morning air has the feel of wanting to be noticed. It is not shy but it doesn't seek attention. I've never seen first-thing-in-the-morning air stand up and shout, or say look at me.

It is an air that invites thoughtfulness. More than that, it deserves thoughtfulness. For a moment, or maybe for a few moments, it deserves recognition of its importance to the day ahead.

What if, each morning, the first time we meet the air outside of where we are with the outside of who we are, what if we stopped? Some people might call that taking moment to be mindful, to mediate, to pray. I'd rather not label it. For me it is a moment to stop, to feel, to consider, not to be thinking.

Just think though how many people would be doing that at the same time each day. How many of those moments would happen throughout the twenty four hours of each day. How much global slowing would happen at that moment.

Just think of what that slowing could add. All thanks  to the first-thing-in-the-morning air.

I might be back tomorrow with post about framing and hanging my small stitched pieces. Slowly, I'm learning how to do this. Or, it might the day after.

Before you go, I'd like to know what the first-thing-in-the-morning air was like where you are today. Please leave a comment.