I’m fascinated by morning rituals – the small things people do to gear themselves up for the day. I know some who eat the same breakfast, day in and day out. Some people use the same bowl or cup. There are tea and coffee rituals galore.
These are the ways we lure ourselves out of bed, ground ourselves for the day ahead.
With the seasons changing, I can already feel it getting ever so slightly harder to get out of bed. Dawn comes later, the days not always so dazzlingly sunny and, in my case, a week of late nights have left my mornings lackluster. These are the times when I lean on rituals more than ever.
Many times my rituals revolve around the tea. Most mornings see me pulling out some sort of mug or teapot and shaking in a spoonful or two of leaves. The type varies. In the fall I like chamomile, yarrow stem and lime blossom. They feel familiar, comforting, and bracing.
Someone said “Tea is the way forward.” For me this is true.
It depends on the day and the type of tea and what happens to be clean and dry. Some days it’s a small mug, some days it’s a giant mug.
I’d like to tell you that I take my tea to a window seat and curl up and gaze out at the view, or I read poetry or do something lofty. That rarely happens.
More often there’s news on in the background, my tea cooling while I answer email, a mug that is more serviceable than elegant. It doesn’t matter, really.
What matters is that I do it. That I take the time for this small thing that grounds me for the rest of the day. That even on hectic mornings, in fearful times, I am able to wrap my hands around a warm cup, inhale a fragrance both comforting and calming. In that small moment I feel like, ‘Yes, I can do this!’ And then I get on with my day.