Living Like a Human: Mellow Mornings.

How easing into my day sets the tone for everything else.

After leaving my full-time job last year, it didn’t take long for me to realize just how burned out, exhausted, overstimulated, and overextended I had become. A series of awakenings led me to a fundamental shift in mindset: regardless of my profession or level of employment, I want to live at a human scale and move at a human pace.

This has implications for every aspect of how I experience my life, and I’m still discovering how a deliberate rejection of perfectionism and hustle culture applies to life in the specific human body in which I dwell.

My plan for this online space is to share what I’m learning as I work out these insights for myself in the hopes that you too will feel a call to examine the scale and pace of your own life. I have in mind a series of posts about what it means to me to embrace my human life (including its limitations) and rein in the tendency to take on too much and move too fast. Come along with me?

Today: Mellow Mornings.

The world is so much right now.

So much.

Each day brings some bit of news that is enough to break your heart… and then the next day starts it all over again.

That’s why I can’t face it— the day, the world— without preparation. I can’t survive or thrive, much less contribute meaningfully in a way that demonstrates love to my neighbors, if I head out into the world while still running on empty from the demands of the day before.

The way I start my day sets the tone for everything, and just as we don’t generally march out in public without first putting on clothes, I’m not well equipped to move into the world until I’ve first covered myself in wisdom, love, and joy.

Here’s how I heard it explained by Dr. Liza Rankow when she was a guest on The Cosmic We podcast, speaking about how to maintain the stamina for activism when the load is heavy:

What is it that nourishes you? … Practice those, fold those into your life on a daily basis. Don’t wait and just do first aid after you’re already burnt out. Although please do first aid if you’re burnt out! But do it as a consistent practice of communion with the Larger Thing, whatever the Larger Thing is for you, and let that animate our work in the world. —Dr. Liza Rankow

Dr. Rankow made clear that she differentiated self-care from soul care. What we think of as self-care is the sort of soothing and pampering that frequently consists of bubble baths and pedicures and take-out sushi eaten while binge-watching funny shows, those activities that are necessary for rest and relaxation and unplugging from the demands of our noisy and hectic modern world.

But soul care is contrasted by being deeply nourishing, restorative, sometimes uncomfortable inner work. Soul care is whatever (re)connects the human soul to the divine. Soul care isn’t one-time nail polish that wears off, but just like good nutrition, it’s small, consistent, nourishing actions over a long time that build resilience, trust, and a deep well of joy that sustains for the long haul.

I know from experience that the things that you build into your life during the “good times” are what holds you together when the storms hit. To put it another way, it’s a smart idea to learn the steps to the dance before the music starts and the curtain goes up. (This is why I love to refer to these nourishing actions as practices: because I do them over and over and over, and no one else can do them for me.)

You do the practices when you’re not stressed so you can remember to use the practices when you are stressed. —Danielle LaPorte

I’ve searched and searched and I can’t find the exact quote, but the gist of another concept that I just recently heard Danielle share was that if she had started her day by getting oriented and connecting with the divine, she didn’t feel the need to second-guess herself for the rest of that day.

This makes intuitive sense to me: if I’ve already rooted myself in a firm foundation, spoken truth over myself, and I’ve asked for supernatural wisdom, love, and joy, then why not actually behave as though I believe I’ve received it all? I can simply walk in confidence and move on with my day, and when something comes up, I can trust that I do indeed have the wisdom, love, and joy required to face it.

On spring and summer mornings, I love to go out early with my little cup of coffee and walk through my garden with my dog Venus. If I can somehow let my “roots and tendrils” reconnect me with the “givens” of life, as Bill Plotkin calls them—not the ideas about life, but the natural world, what is—I experience the most extraordinary grounding, connection, healing, and even revelation. One little hopping bird can do me in! …

Of course, it’s not as simple as just standing in my garden. If I get my email first or start worrying and planning my day, the moment’s over. It’s done because I’m not really present. But we can preserve and protect those sacred moments before we read the news or check our email, before we look at social media or review the day’s agenda. If we can find a way to be present to the “givens,” especially the natural “givens,” I believe we can be happy. —Father Richard Rohr 

I received the above paragraphs as an email from Fr. Rohr, one of my most beloved spiritual teachers, and it was so compelling that I began adding a garden walk to my morning routine the very next day.

Here’s how most of my mornings unfold in this season:

I need more sleep than my husband, so he’s usually been up for at least an hour before he comes back to wake me up. Our dog Buddy’s pretty much willing to cuddle up only when he’s half asleep, so I take advantage of the first few moments of the day to indulge in what we refer to as “family snuggles.”

A long time ago, I started leaving my phone across the room overnight rather than on my nightstand. This means I seldom scroll in bed, whether first thing or last, and I can’t recommend that practice highly enough. When I get up, I put my phone in my pocket (because it’s also my camera and my radio) but I DO NOT look at news, internet, social, or email yet.

Note: there’s a lot about my mellow mornings that benefits from prior planning, whether that’s something simple that I do the night before (such as habitually moving my phone away from my sleeping space) or a larger-scale choice (like where my living room furniture is positioned). I’ll write another time about how I work toward a desired outcome by intentionally reverse-engineering the steps and processes that lead to it.

I head downstairs to get my “warm drink” brewing. Sometimes it’s Rasa, sometimes it’s dandelion tea, sometimes decaf Earl Grey, and on Sundays it’s a single cup of actual coffee (the one weekly dose of caffeine that I allow myself). Everything related to warm drinks is in a single cabinet right above the hot water kettle so I don’t have to hunt for anything while I’m waking up.

While that brews, I gather a little bucket of birdseed, slide on whichever shoes are by the back door (often my husband’s flipflops), and head outside. I refill three birdfeeders—a scoop of sunflower seeds in one, two scoops of the grocery store mix in each of the other two—and then I wander through the rest of the yard.

I check what’s blooming in the corner of the yard (aka my wildflower meadow), and stroll through the vegetable garden. If I’m lucky enough to have some fresh rosebuds, I pick a few to put in a vase. I say hello to the birds and bunnies and squirrels that are just waiting for me to leave so they can descend upon the feeders.

By the time I get back inside, my warm drink is ready. I pour it into a favorite mug and move over to my reading nook. When we redesigned our living space last year, we intentionally set up quiet reading spaces for each of us, and I love my corner so much.

Here I engage more senses by getting some good smells going, sometimes essential oils in a diffuser, or maybe a candle, but most days I light a stick of palo santo. I swivel my chair to face the window, cue up a ten-minute audio mediation from Susan Piver, and then sit.

The manifold benefits of meditation are worth their own post, so perhaps I’ll write about that another time, but it will suffice to say just two things for now: my days go very differently when I have done my sit and when I have not, and sitting for ten minutes a day fairly consistently for about ten years has enriched my inner life and changed (improved?) my temperament in ways that have been noticeable to other people (so I know it’s not biased self-observation). If I find that I have to truncate my morning routine, I try to cut out almost anything else first so that I can guard my precious sitting time.

When the bell has rung and meditation is over, I’m still in my cozy chair, ready to sip that warm drink. I reach next for wisdom from my bookshelf.

If it’s the first half of the week, I re-read the Scriptures from the past Sunday’s sermon; if it’s Thursday onward, I read the Scripture for the upcoming sermon. Sometimes I follow the readings from my Sacred Ordinary Days planner, or dive in without a plan and open my Bible to whatever I need that day.

I read or sing a hymn, and dip in and out of one or several other books. (At only a page or two a day, it can take me a long while to work through a devotional work!) The titles vary; currently I have a volume of Mary Oliver’s poems and books by Parker Palmer, N.T. Wright, and Pema Chodron in rotation, right next to two Bibles (NRSV and The Message) and my Methodist Hymnal.

When either I’ve run out of time or else found the kernel of wisdom that I want to carry with me for the day, I close the books and get dressed to go outside again. I keep one set of clothes on a hook in the bathroom to wear for morning walks so that I don’t waste time and morning brain energy on deciding what to put on, and I just throw it in the wash every few days when it gets sweaty. (My neighbors who only see me in the mornings probably think I have just the one outfit, ha!)

Buddy’s a better dog and I’m a better human when we both get some movement, so after I blend up a simple spinach and blueberry smoothie, I put on my sun hat and off we go for a walk. I listen to something thoughtful and nourishing, often a podcast from CAC. We wander the neighborhood while Buddy sniffs and I drink my breakfast.

By the time I get back home, I’m thoroughly awake and energized, and I’ve been grounded in all the ways that matter to me: I’ve connected with my partner and pup; greeted the living things outside and oriented myself in a world that’s larger and older than I am and not all about me; I’ve had ten minutes of stillness; I’ve absorbed the wisdom of ancient Scriptures and teachers; I’ve hydrated and fed and moved my body and gotten some sunshine; and then, THEN! I am ready to open myself to the wider world.

Not until I’ve cared for my soul in serious ways am I fit to check my calendar and inbox and get myself oriented to the tasks and world events that await me. By the time I get to my desk and turn on screens for work or study, I’m intentionally prepared to respond effectively, filled and nourished enough to actually have something to contribute that matters.

How does your morning routine contribute (or not!) to your mental, spiritual, and physical wellness? Which daily practices nourish and sustain your work in the world? Is the pace and scale of your life consistent with your capacity to contribute, or are you operating with some areas of your life in “overdraft” mode? Is there a small change that would enable you to start your day with an increased measure of peace and equanimity? I’m eager to learn from you!