Being a Morning Person

Sometimes it feels to me that I spend my life wondering why I wasn't put together like everyone else. Why I don't have the same urges, the same thoughts, the same feelings. I have spent many years of my existence feeling like an outsider for some reason or another. I think this general notion depressed me for many years, particular the teenage ones and right on into my early twenties. But then some things happened somewhere in there, and I figured out that I generally liked who I was, even if I wasn't like most people I know.

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world

It has been a rarity in my life that I have met another morning person. I do not need coffee or tea or a shower first thing in the morning to 'wake me up'. Generally when I decide it is time to get up, I am not only awake, but hyper-awake. I have the most energy, the most enthusiasm, the most stamina in the morning. Of course, the downside to this is twofold. Firstly, I am not a night person, and find it hard to stay out late and party all night and be enthused as the day drags on. My energy levels inversely plummet the more hours I have been awake. And secondly, because I don't know other morning people, it is often that these times when I am the most full of promise to get out and do things, I find I am often alone.

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

See, it's a quarter to four right now and I was just considering how I want to curl up and go to bed. And how really, my enthusiasm for doing much of anything today has completely disappeared. But this is not to say that I've not done anything today. I went to the gym this morning, I went to the market. I read my new Scarlet magazine (only to amusingly find a story close to this one, edited by SemiKim), I've put a load of laundry in. I did a small bit (not enough to make a difference really) of straightening in my room. But now, in the middle of the afternoon I find I am like a balloon deflated. All my energy and good intentions are drowned in lethargy.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

If only it were morning again.