On Simple Pleasures, And A Morning Routine

I've been trying to live with a morning routine, one that will survive the vagaries of weather, the uncertainties of a consulting job, and the minor health issues that plague me like ants. 

It's a simple routine, the primary component being waking up at the same time every day; early enough to ensure some me-time, a feeling of control over my day.

The other component is banning my cell phone. My old-fashioned alarm clock takes away the snooze option. Leaving the blinds open to the morning light helps. Most important: I don't start my day with email.

On fine summer days, the morning routine ensured I would get outdoors, smell the roses and watch the geese on their own constitutional. As November creeps up, it allows for some treadmill time. The routine lets me savor a hot breakfast without gulping in a rush. It lets me dress and prepare for the day in a slow, relaxed manner.

It's a few minutes of stillness, of pleasure, before everything else takes over. Amidst the gloom of 24 hour news coverage, of election cycles and climate change, of terror attacks and gun violence, of war and refugees and autocrats, of racial discrimination and sexual discrimination all pouring into our eyes and ears - it's a happy place. 

And the older I grow, the more I find joy in these small pleasures. In pausing to listen to a bird sing hidden in the leaves, in watching the flash of its wings as it glides past momentarily. Noticing the details of a flower, the patterns of light reflecting off water, or the unique way each sunset tinges the urban landscape.

Happiness is a moment of mirth, a fresh sunny morning, a feeling of health, a crisp slice of buttered multi-grain toast, a tidy desk, a perfectly brewed cup of tea.

In the sweep of things I cannot control, I strive to make a small place for these.