1. Start your morning at noon. The only thing more pleasant than having a good morning is not having any morning at all. Pay no mind to the fools who will tell you that you've wasted away the day. False. You've woken up just in time for brunch.
2. Go for an early morning jog at 5 AM. People who wake up really early always feel like better people than those that sleep in. Even if you have to drag yourself out of bed with your body protesting that it hates you every moment of the morning, imagine how good you'll feel when you're the only person out on the open road, jogging, or having a heart attack or whatever. There is nothing more satisfying than the feeling that you are better than other people. Get up early and celebrate it.
3. Break the noon rule. I don't know who came up with the injunction about not drinking before noon, but they were probably a communist who didn't love America. Nothing says you're going to have a good day like a beer or a bit of whiskey at 9 AM. It may also mean that you take a long nap in the afternoon, but that's fine too, naps are of the gods.
4. Use your vast income to employ a large staff of people who greet you with good mornings, popping out from behind large sofas and tapestries of unicorns, people who are paid to be so cheerful that you'd feel like a swine for treating them poorly. Mind you, you'll really want to treat them poorly. Who has time to be pleasant in the morning? And yet, as your cook hums in the garden and tells you what a bright beautiful day it's going to be despite the rain because at least it gives you a chance to stay inside and get to know one another better, you'll....never mind. These mornings would be awful.
5. Use your somewhat vast sums of money to purchase a trained bear and a pair of monkeys. When you wake up in the morning have the monkeys perform the play "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead," when you tire of their chicanery, watch the bear ride around on a tricycle until he falls, shattering a mirror and leaving you in stitches on the floor. He may try to eat you. If he doesn't, think of what a success the morning will have been? It's not every morning that you don't get eaten by a bear. (I guess it is).
6. Go down to the convalescent home and take home a senior citizen. You can make him/her tea and spend the morning trading stories of your misspent youth. For variety, argue with her about the small details of the story that she's telling you, say, "It didn't happen quite like that. Or, that's not how I remember it that particular summer wasn't hot it was merely warm." The two of you will begin to slip into the quiet camaraderie of any morning, sipping tea, rocking in your chairs, listening to the buzz of insect and the cars humming by.
7. Take a break from your usual fair, Cheerios and a bit of banana, sliced neatly and placed on top. This morning, open at that smoothie maker you've been dying to use. Remove the frozen Kale that you've been told to eat, mix it together with some blueberries and strawberries. Just sit and breathe as you anticipate the array of flavors that are about to reach the tip of your tongue. The Kale is too strong. The smoothie tastes like something that you'd have refused to eat as a child. Something that your father would have forced you to eat or remain at the table for hours. But this morning is different, sure the clouds are low and threatening, but you can throw this smoothie away and start all over. You are no longer a child who must wait for hours to be excused.
8. Put on a song, preferably something from Broadway or by Disney. Sing along with the song using the entire spectrum of your voice. Imagine that if someone walked in your house that morning, they'd mistake your singing for the voices of angels. When the song ends and you wander back into the shower to wash your face and hands with water nominally colder than you'd like because the pipes cannot bear the cold, remember the music that lies deep inside you, like water in some ancient well.
9. Sleep with someone beautiful and wake up before they do. In the movies, people sleep too soundly. You will not be able to slip on your jeans and shirt while they lay asleep, hair splayed across the pillow in attenuated morning light. Move as if you are trapped in quicksand, slowly deliberately. Watch the play of muscle and bone along their calf, the small ridges of their collarbones, take in, but do not touch, the side of their cheek slightly creased and soft. This is a morning unlike any other morning that you'll ever have, which makes it nothing unique.
10. Using your vast sums of wealth, gained through legitimate means, buy an orchestra to gently play you into the morning. You'll want to start with the woodwinds. flutes and oboes, played as if you are walking on the muddy path of a swelling stream, until you are picturing fairies dancing about your room with tutus made of dandelions. Then the strings will start, two violins and perhaps a cello. The strings will remind you of your childhood, waking up early on Christmas morning and sitting in front of the tree waiting for the joy to come. The percussion, a bass and snare will be played next, the tromping of feet, a reminder that only industry can gird us against the passage of time and finally the brass, french horns and trumpets heralding the coming of the morning. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
11. Play that wonderful game that we all did as children, where the ground is comprised of lava. Try and get from the safety of your bed to the comforts of your shower without breaking your neck or having your toes seared off. No doubt the bottoms of your feet will be singed by the time you are eating a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and plotting your next move. To get from the chair to the carpet you'll have to jump across at least five feet of solid lava. Push the chairs together and get a running start, as you fall, heading face first towards the steam and imminent death, remember that all of life is a dream from which we are constantly awakening
12. Reader, imagine that I am there with you just as you awake. The night is no longer with us, and we've already forgiven ourselves for what we'll make of the day. I've made buttered toast with jam and cups of espresso. I've opened the window to let in the crisp morning air, lifting the hairs on your arms. We are probably near the sea, you and I. Let's spend the morning talking of the pets we had when we were growing up. You'll talk of dogs and me of cats until we find some common ground. We'll talk of the schools that we were in, the teacher we loved and hated. We'll talk of the people that we first loved, the color in their hair and the tinge of their skin. We'll talk about the mistakes that we've made, or intend to make, forgiving ourselves again for being less than we'd intended to. And dear reader, we will fill the morning with laughter until we are spent, eyes watering, stomachs tight, waiting for the afternoon to embrace us.
2. Go for an early morning jog at 5 AM. People who wake up really early always feel like better people than those that sleep in. Even if you have to drag yourself out of bed with your body protesting that it hates you every moment of the morning, imagine how good you'll feel when you're the only person out on the open road, jogging, or having a heart attack or whatever. There is nothing more satisfying than the feeling that you are better than other people. Get up early and celebrate it.
3. Break the noon rule. I don't know who came up with the injunction about not drinking before noon, but they were probably a communist who didn't love America. Nothing says you're going to have a good day like a beer or a bit of whiskey at 9 AM. It may also mean that you take a long nap in the afternoon, but that's fine too, naps are of the gods.
4. Use your vast income to employ a large staff of people who greet you with good mornings, popping out from behind large sofas and tapestries of unicorns, people who are paid to be so cheerful that you'd feel like a swine for treating them poorly. Mind you, you'll really want to treat them poorly. Who has time to be pleasant in the morning? And yet, as your cook hums in the garden and tells you what a bright beautiful day it's going to be despite the rain because at least it gives you a chance to stay inside and get to know one another better, you'll....never mind. These mornings would be awful.
5. Use your somewhat vast sums of money to purchase a trained bear and a pair of monkeys. When you wake up in the morning have the monkeys perform the play "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead," when you tire of their chicanery, watch the bear ride around on a tricycle until he falls, shattering a mirror and leaving you in stitches on the floor. He may try to eat you. If he doesn't, think of what a success the morning will have been? It's not every morning that you don't get eaten by a bear. (I guess it is).
6. Go down to the convalescent home and take home a senior citizen. You can make him/her tea and spend the morning trading stories of your misspent youth. For variety, argue with her about the small details of the story that she's telling you, say, "It didn't happen quite like that. Or, that's not how I remember it that particular summer wasn't hot it was merely warm." The two of you will begin to slip into the quiet camaraderie of any morning, sipping tea, rocking in your chairs, listening to the buzz of insect and the cars humming by.
7. Take a break from your usual fair, Cheerios and a bit of banana, sliced neatly and placed on top. This morning, open at that smoothie maker you've been dying to use. Remove the frozen Kale that you've been told to eat, mix it together with some blueberries and strawberries. Just sit and breathe as you anticipate the array of flavors that are about to reach the tip of your tongue. The Kale is too strong. The smoothie tastes like something that you'd have refused to eat as a child. Something that your father would have forced you to eat or remain at the table for hours. But this morning is different, sure the clouds are low and threatening, but you can throw this smoothie away and start all over. You are no longer a child who must wait for hours to be excused.
8. Put on a song, preferably something from Broadway or by Disney. Sing along with the song using the entire spectrum of your voice. Imagine that if someone walked in your house that morning, they'd mistake your singing for the voices of angels. When the song ends and you wander back into the shower to wash your face and hands with water nominally colder than you'd like because the pipes cannot bear the cold, remember the music that lies deep inside you, like water in some ancient well.
9. Sleep with someone beautiful and wake up before they do. In the movies, people sleep too soundly. You will not be able to slip on your jeans and shirt while they lay asleep, hair splayed across the pillow in attenuated morning light. Move as if you are trapped in quicksand, slowly deliberately. Watch the play of muscle and bone along their calf, the small ridges of their collarbones, take in, but do not touch, the side of their cheek slightly creased and soft. This is a morning unlike any other morning that you'll ever have, which makes it nothing unique.
10. Using your vast sums of wealth, gained through legitimate means, buy an orchestra to gently play you into the morning. You'll want to start with the woodwinds. flutes and oboes, played as if you are walking on the muddy path of a swelling stream, until you are picturing fairies dancing about your room with tutus made of dandelions. Then the strings will start, two violins and perhaps a cello. The strings will remind you of your childhood, waking up early on Christmas morning and sitting in front of the tree waiting for the joy to come. The percussion, a bass and snare will be played next, the tromping of feet, a reminder that only industry can gird us against the passage of time and finally the brass, french horns and trumpets heralding the coming of the morning. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
11. Play that wonderful game that we all did as children, where the ground is comprised of lava. Try and get from the safety of your bed to the comforts of your shower without breaking your neck or having your toes seared off. No doubt the bottoms of your feet will be singed by the time you are eating a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and plotting your next move. To get from the chair to the carpet you'll have to jump across at least five feet of solid lava. Push the chairs together and get a running start, as you fall, heading face first towards the steam and imminent death, remember that all of life is a dream from which we are constantly awakening
12. Reader, imagine that I am there with you just as you awake. The night is no longer with us, and we've already forgiven ourselves for what we'll make of the day. I've made buttered toast with jam and cups of espresso. I've opened the window to let in the crisp morning air, lifting the hairs on your arms. We are probably near the sea, you and I. Let's spend the morning talking of the pets we had when we were growing up. You'll talk of dogs and me of cats until we find some common ground. We'll talk of the schools that we were in, the teacher we loved and hated. We'll talk of the people that we first loved, the color in their hair and the tinge of their skin. We'll talk about the mistakes that we've made, or intend to make, forgiving ourselves again for being less than we'd intended to. And dear reader, we will fill the morning with laughter until we are spent, eyes watering, stomachs tight, waiting for the afternoon to embrace us.
thank you for number 12..what a blessed event each and every morning is...
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