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It can feel like an interminable pause. A creator of discomfort. A vacuum restless to be filled.

Or it can be a balm. A place for restoration. A welcome companionship where words are not required.

For me it is the necessary fuel to move through a world of continual noise. It’s the time that I can move below the surface, dig deep, and know what my thoughts truly are.

My priorities are exposed.

Morning is that time of quiet for me.

With coffee in hand, before the sun’s rising, I cross the courtyard to my studio where the lack sounds enables me to hear the waking conversations of the first birds to stir.
I settle into my chair.

It’s just me, my books, my journals, and the quiet. I am fully content. It is the part of my day when I pull up to the tank and get refueled, made ready to move forward. Prepared. Knowing the noise of life will creep in and drink of the energy with which I’ve been recharged. But without the refueling I have nothing from which to draw.

I listen. I read. I write. I pray.

It is the most important part of my day.

With it, I start the day knowing who I am and what I’m about. I make better choices. I am less likely to be overwhelmed by life’s demands.

Without it, I let the day take control and I’m more likely to make choices based on outside forces rather than internal knowledge given to me in my time of quiet.

Quiet is literally food for my soul just as a healthy, delicious meal is for my body.

It is the time I truly breathe. And I’m aware of it.

I choose morning. It’s what works for me.

It enables me to say with more ease, “let the day begin”.

Only because of this time alone.


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