This post is also available in: polski (Polish)
The morning has the taste of dates
nostalgic and quite rough.
The rain is dripping into the coffee
– a friend who listensmy morning poem
I have one regular ritual in the morning for two or even three years. I sit down on a plush sofa with a cup of coffee, with nice porridge (today full of dates), and sometimes with fresh orange juice and a cat on my knees (depending on cat).
This moment can be shorter or sometimes longer, but it is my most sensitive moment just for myself.
Even I hurry somewhere to work, to the office, to the airport. I always get up early enough to celebrate my custom.
A month ago I added Daria’s poems to this doing. And today, quite unexpectedly, my ritual has grown again, because I found in it a space to write my own poem. For a long time, I had no such focus on my own poetry.
So, in time when I really needed it my everyday life took me to myself.
How I don’t think that our ordinariness cares about us. Sometimes so gently suggests something that you can easily miss it.
So, maybe today, try to hear what wants to tell you the rhythm inside you.
I would be wonderful to read about your rituals, too.