Waking Up Before the Sun

It's finally cool on my skin this morning. I even used a blanket in the middle of the night. The heat becomes unbearable at the drop of a hat and my brain slows to molasses. But as I cool down in the morning, my thoughts speed up and like a tornado, their swarming grabs me and thrusts me into the day.
I love the morning. The crisp fresh smell, the quiet hum, the way life has been reset. I wish morning was longer. It holds all this potential. I can feel myself getting anxious when midday approaches. "Wait!" I yell. "I'm not ready yet!" It never does. My energy is highest before 1pm. At 1:05p, the day feels like it's starting to slip away.

I like to pretend my dreams are still possible in the morning. Before words have been spoken, cereal eaten, shower taken.

I'm frustrated. I want to write more, to write SOMETHING, but sometimes I just end up writing nothing. It's not "nothing" but it's just my mind unleashing. Maybe the first 30 minutes have to be morning pages and then I can let myself write real stuff. The process seems to be a struggle. Sometimes I feel good and sometimes I feel like a complete failure. And yet, nothing on paper to prove anything one way or another. Blogging is good for me, but it's a different voice.

What's important to me?
My relationships
The state of the Earth, and our purpose on it
Health and Healing
Design, green and otherwise

My desk is a mess. I'd rather be cleaning it. After spending time in someone else's CLEAN office, I am motivated to make mine the same way. Then the clutter won't annoy me as I try to type. Environment is important when writing. If I can look over at my wedding papers and get distracted, then it's no good to have the papers so close. I tend to like a lot of stimulation but when I write, maybe it's not such a good thing. I have been fantasizing about a simpler place to live. And composting. And growing my own food.

Back when I lived in Kennewick, WA, we used to have a tiny orchard with apricots, cherries, plums, pears, and apples. Then we had corn, strawberries, peas, pumpkins (and probably other stuff but I only remember eating the peas). Before my dad got sick we'd go out as a family and pick food to eat. I didn't help that much as my food went right into my mouth, but I can still taste those peas and I remember how big our strawberries used to be. Big as golfballs, my brother Aaron used to say.

When I think of us back then, it seems completely surreal. A family going outside and picking food to eat. We did lots of things together back then. Young families usually do. We hung out by the pool, all of us doing different things. We had a very active Jewish life despite the small community of Jews in the Tri-Cities. As I prepare for my wedding, the beginning of my own family, I am hopeful. I want to have a young family that picks food in their garden. I want to have an active Jewish life. I picture us traveling the world, with matching somethings (my grandma made all of us cableknit sweaters and denim backpacks when we went to Israel), learning about being a family and the foundation that becomes for all of life.

Maybe my search for community is a way for me to relive those great family times. Even as my dad was dying, I felt close to everyone. It was hard and scary, but I've always been able to come back to those memories, and hold them in my fingers like a worn security blanket. As we've gotten older we don't talk about those times that much anymore. We're creating new memories. I look forward to hear my own kids recollect their childhood.