He hated to break the lovely stillness of dawn by using his voice. (from Charlotte’s Web by E B White)
I’m bad at waking up. I can get up alright–I mean, get out of bed and drag my sleepy body into the kitchen for a cup of coffee–but actually feeling awake takes a lot longer. And I usually just want to go back to bed for a while, especially this semester when getting more than seven hours of sleep has become a rarely enjoyed luxury. In spite of that, though, I have always found that some of my favorite moments in a day come in those sleepy, half-awake moments, when the light filters in ever so softly and the world around me, even this teeming city, is quiet and peaceful, all potential and hopeful possibility. Before the day has had an opportunity to wring me out, before worry or stress has caught up to me, before Real Life begins in earnest, those still moments are beautiful, wonderful, restorative. It’s why I make it a point never to rush through a morning routine and always enjoy my coffee and breakfast. When I lived in Texas, I used to get up early in the summers to ride my horses. I would try to saddle up around daybreak, mostly because I wanted to beat the heat, but I quickly found that the peaceful morning was my favorite time of day and my favorite time to ride. Even now, even when it’s terribly hard to get out of bed and wake up, I find myself cherishing those moments of quietness and stillness. And, like Wilbur, I find that I am reticent to disturb the moment with the sound of my own voice.