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Cutting ice to snow

I used to love that slither of time first thing in the morning when I woke a little earlier than expected and had a few moments to lie in bed and contemplate the adventures of the night before and the traverses of the day ahead. There, nestled between the warmth of a clean set of sheets (yup, cleanliness is next to goodliness), I’d enjoy the subtlety of the moment, unforced and unfettered, planning and solving, without distraction from the wall of mental clutter that our waking lives attract. Information is so accessible, stimulation is so ready. Our minds are way too full these days. There’s something to be said for a weekly mental purge. But where? How? Anyway, I always appreciated the clarity of the morning sunlight, the soft intrusion of its gentle rays. But as you get older, the mind wanders less frequently — well, to safe places at least. There are bills to pay, work to do, coffee to be made, and that beautiful and peaceful moment of quiet introspection has increasingly been superseded by the need to get up and take on the complexities of life. Or at least it had been. Yes, I’m stealing that moment back, that twenty-minute passage of a pre-cluttered mind. It will again find a quiet place, for thoughtful introspection and gentle ambles. It will bring an inner-peace to an outward freneticism. It will. But first things first. I need a damn strong Latte. And a bag of Walker’s crisps. [illustration by Sam Weber]

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