Morning rituals.
Weekdays mornings are usually challenging - fifteen tasks for thirty minutes. Bathroom - kitchen - nursery - bedroom - kitchen - bedroom. Every step has its right time - if I omit or add one, I will break somebody else's ritual. So, sequence is important. Key word is discipline. I don't complain. Routine gives me the feeling of being safe, no surprises mean everything is OK. Habits give me the opportunity to enter stress less into the day. Coffee is the only luxury of my weekdays mornings. But fast, no time the smell its taste or aroma. Coffee as a wake up tool, nothing to do with joy.
But I have my weekends. My weekend mornings are quiet and sunny. I love the silence of the house while my beloved ones are sleeping. This is my time. My kitchen has an eastern exposure and I enjoy the sun spots moving onto the walls and filling my eyes with light. Good morning, day. The steam of my coffee. A book from the shelf and so much time to get through its pages. The roofs of the neighbouring buildings, the blackbirds singing their lovesongs, the plants on my terrace. Time to read, to observe, to savor the day, to pamper myself. Long breakfast is part of the weekend morning rituals.
Weekdays mornings are usually challenging - fifteen tasks for thirty minutes. Bathroom - kitchen - nursery - bedroom - kitchen - bedroom. Every step has its right time - if I omit or add one, I will break somebody else's ritual. So, sequence is important. Key word is discipline. I don't complain. Routine gives me the feeling of being safe, no surprises mean everything is OK. Habits give me the opportunity to enter stress less into the day. Coffee is the only luxury of my weekdays mornings. But fast, no time the smell its taste or aroma. Coffee as a wake up tool, nothing to do with joy.
But I have my weekends. My weekend mornings are quiet and sunny. I love the silence of the house while my beloved ones are sleeping. This is my time. My kitchen has an eastern exposure and I enjoy the sun spots moving onto the walls and filling my eyes with light. Good morning, day. The steam of my coffee. A book from the shelf and so much time to get through its pages. The roofs of the neighbouring buildings, the blackbirds singing their lovesongs, the plants on my terrace. Time to read, to observe, to savor the day, to pamper myself. Long breakfast is part of the weekend morning rituals.
