Early Morning Writing- My Own Caregiving

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I am barely going to beat the clock on this blog!

Each morning for going on a year and a half I have relished following The Miracle Morning practice, so beautifully crafted by Hal Elrod. I do not miss a day even if it means getting up an hour or more earlier than planned. Silence, affirmations, visualization, exercise, reading and scribing create a start to my day that both grounds and energizes me, to say nothing of the community on Facebook that is one of the most inspiring places to stop by often during the day.

Scribing – I love that word as a change from journaling. Hal needed an S at the end of SAVERS as the acronym for the components of the practice. Scribing fit.

When it comes time to scribe (there is no set order) it is a sacred ritual. It is anywhere from a half hour to an hour to be fully present to me.

The first thing is to choose which pen appeals the most, a number of choices close at hand. Do I want black ink or blue? Is today fine point or medium point? Or is it a bold pen day? I am always led to the right pen for that moment, crazy as it sounds. It feels perfect when I put it to paper.

Next I reach into the bag by my writing chair and relish the feel of the journal as I lift it out and find the new page. It is very rare that I go back and read what has already been written. Each day is a new day, a fresh start, and I am going forward, not backward. In many ways it does not matter what I wrote yesterday or last week or last year. This time of writing, for me, is about the moment. It is about now.

I am curious to see what I am going to say. I never know. I don’t come to scribing with a preconceived notion or idea. The writing takes on a life of its own. It is a time of intention and of honoring what is bubbling up from my soul. It is diving way beneath the surface writing. It is raw writing. It is digging deep into who I am to discover what needs or wants to be said…or asked for…or gotten rid of…or at least a 20th gotten rid of…or reworked…again…or designed…or invited and anticipated. Some things that rise up are definitely long haul works in progress. I don’t need to look back pages to know that I have written about them multiple times, always looking for new insights and perspectives. Sometimes I wonder what part of the mystery I am missing.

The pen is my tool for chipping away, or rearranging pieces of life, or realizing how absolutely absurd or ridiculous I am being. The flow of the pen invites my imagination to spill onto the pages, imagination that I so deeply want to see come to life and for which I will always hold out hope. I see just where I want to live. I hear what I want to hear. I am doing what I want to do. I am with those with whom I want to be…known or unknown. Some might say it is visioning. I see it simply as giving voice to deep desires. It can be filled with humor and fun, not always serious.

Memories sneak in and sometimes bring surprises both in the fact that the memory even cropped up and then what follows. Several years ago, on a Sunday morning and for no particular reason I wrote about my dad and childhood memories from being in church with him. I noted a particular hymn, one that had not been sung in churches I had been in for years… years. I am not even sure why I associate that hymn with him, but I do. It was a hymn that I did not think was probably sung very often anymore, anywhere, an old hymn. And then I got to church that Sunday morning and looked at the bulletin. There was the hymn, waiting to be sung. Who could ever explain that?

I am in another world during my scribing…immersed. It nourishes me. It grounds me. It lifts me. It helps me know myself. It opens up my world. It makes me laugh. It makes me cry. It brings discernment. It helps me lay things out that need to be seen more clearly. It brings me joy. I bask in wonder. It makes me happy. I am free and it is freeing. The qualities go on and on, a sampling on each day.

Being immersed in my words is as beautiful to me as being at a spa. They heal. They soothe. They massage my soul. They energize and invigorate. And even with all the emotions that are included in the package deal, I write the last word, close the journal and put the pen back, feeling completely refreshed and ready for my day.

I cannot imagine any better caregiving of my self than in the very early morning scribing moments. I am filled with gratitude for all that washes over and through me and for having the luxury of the time itself for such indulgence…indulgence that breathes life and allows me to more consciously share myself with those I encounter in the hours following.

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Gift of a Caregiver From Birth to Death

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