I slept in on this Saturday, ’til 6. But for the first time this year, at least in my notice, it’s warm and pleasant enough at this hour to beckon me and my coffee mug outside. So here we sit, Starbucks mug and trusty Toshiba and me and the glorious Spring morning. Thoreauvian excess is irresistible.
“The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is least somnolence in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night.”
“All memorable events, I should say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere.”
Night owls will find these sentiments annoying, if not insulting. Sorry. The proper emphasis, though, is not on morning in the clock-time sense but as an atmospheric phenomenon.
“To him whose elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning. It matters not what the clocks say or the attitudes and labors of men. Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me.”
It just so happens that there is most dawn in me at dawn, too. And as my inner and spiritual dawn meets the glare of aurora – the sun just peeked over my neighbor’s roofline – I’ll take one more gulp of liquid motivation. Then, my dogs and I (a lab, a semi-lab, and a “mut” who’s sleeker and smarter than them both) will amble out into the street to greet the day. To be awake is to be alive… go confidently in the direction of your dreams… (etc. etc.) I’ll bet night owls’ dogs don’t get as much exercise as mine do!