After yesterday’s night time dash to complete my daily post I’m pleased to be sitting down to the task at a more bright and bushy tailed breakfast hour today. Well, it’s breakfast time anyway.
I definitely find it easier to write in the mornings, mentally speaking. Unfortunately, in practical terms, it’s less easy. With a son who has just started school my mornings have been hijacked by the rush to breakfast, tooth-brush and backpack prepare for the walk to the bus stop. It may not sound that devastating a burden and it is all over in a fairly manic hour or so but it’s more the point of the headlong fling into the day that it gives me. I get back from my walk to the bus stop and I’m somehow half-way through my morning with no idea how I got there.
There is no leisurely cup of tea in bed to bring me round. No hot, strong coffee to perk my senses up. No time for my brain to catch up with my body and the tasks it has to perform. Never mind time for any morning meditations.
They don’t tell you that about school (or if they do, I missed that day.) As a parent, the rigid routine stretches out before me for the next 15 years or so. Bugger. It somehow feels more painful second time around, living it for somebody else. I thought I had left that institutionalization behind a long time ago. And I worked really hard at creating a flexible life for myself that wasn’t too confined by normal strictures. I chose self-employment. I moved abroad to live a more simple life. I live in the countryside, close to nature, in harmony with the earth.
But even so. I find myself back in the system.
So I guess I just have to be creative about finding time for my creativity. (There’s a conundrum.) If my perfect time for writing has been stolen from me, I guess I’ll just have to steal back some time from somewhere else.
*Some housekeeping standards have been hurt in the making of this post.