Spring Broke

For years now, I have been setting my alarm seven days a week, even on holidays, to get up earlier than anyone else in my house. I find that I need that time to just sit still. Sometimes I think, and other times I work hard not to think. If I choose to read during that time, I read only books that speak to me spiritually (saving the fun novels, or the articles for work for other, less sacred, times during the day). I also try to write at least a few days a week. Over the years I have carved out this space, creating a virtual temple in my living room where I feel grounded and authentic. It is a daily practice that has provided me with serenity and purpose. So when I casually missed this "appointment" with myself, I was shocked at how easily I lost my footing. I slipped through a crack and had a strange one week journey back to myself. It was like a week out of the Twilight Zone.
At the time, I really didn't know what had happened. I described the experience to a friend as feeling like I was out of step with the universe. I felt like a spiritual orphan, yet had no idea exactly whom had "abandoned" me. It was Spring Break and I had decided to take it easy. We'd had an incredibly active spring to that point, so I had decided to keep the calendar clean and take each day as it came. I also slept in for the first time in years. What happened as a result was completely unexpected. Out of nowhere, I felt like a lost soul going through life's motions... acting out the role of the person I usually was, but feeling like a stranger in my own skin. I regressed to old patterns of thinking; I found myself indulging in old habits and vices that had long been relegated to my past; and I became utterly unproductive. It was as if I had been swallowed by a black hole. By the time Sunday evening came, I went to bed in awe of how many good intentions had been left undone.
On Monday morning, I slid right back into my ritual of waking up an hour before I needed to. Immediately I felt connected to my source of strength. During the whole prior week, I had joked that my "planets were in retrograde" or that I wasn't on God's radar for some reason. Not once did it occur to me that the person I was missing was myself. Not until that morning, when I sat still and listened, did I hear my own voice welcoming me home. I realized that my morning time has become like oxygen for me. And I suspect it is the same for all of us. Everyone needs to find what it is for them that puts wind in their sails. What that entails is different for each of us. For me, I now know that when I sleep in, I remain asleep to who I am for the entire day. My alarm clock now has a double meaning when it wakes me up each day.