It’s a quiet morning here on the farm. As my custom, it’s 5 am and I’m up and awake. Truthfully, I’ve been conscious since about 3:30am when I dove into reading Brene Brown’s book on embracing imperfection. With the wise researching truths and the vulnerable stories shared and read, I’m doing my regular routine. The thoughts are swirling about shame, guilt, joy and love. There are deeper teachings of the week that resonate around fear, vulnerability and showing up (and being accepted) just as you are. It’s heady stuff.

Early mornings seem to resonate with slow beginnings. The sun rises gradually, and the day comes into being. I steep the kettle for a cup of tea and it takes a few minutes to get it boiling. Even my dog seems to wake up slowly, yawn and cuddle around my feet until it’s truly time to step into action.

My mornings used to look like me pounding the keyboard as soon as my eyes popped open. Checking email, replying and launching into action. Slurping back the high octane coffee to get my brain pumping out the word – thoughts as I planned my day out – sometimes to the minute. Even as I began meditation in my mornings, I would jump out of bed eager to get started. There wasn’t a minute to just BE.

I had this thought growing almost every morning. To take my tea, curl up under the apple tree and hang out or walk around the garden, and take in the sights and sounds. It’s not productive. It’s just being. Enjoying. Take a pause to be grateful or even a breathe or two. I’m not sure why I didn’t think it was possible – maybe because my ego swamped my head with the to do’s? I mention this growing thought to my husband is passing as we are weeding and he says, “why not?” And he gives me permission to do so.

I didn’t really need his permission. Although it was nice to be encouraged.

So this morning, I silence the ego and just go for it.

It’s cool as the sun is not up yet so I snuggled deeper into my hoodie and my sweatpants. My hair is flowing free and I haven’t taken the time to do anything about my appearance other than shove on glasses so I can see. My feet are bare so the cool grass is beneath my feet and I try to avoid stepping on thistles.

I wander around my garden, pulling a weed here or there, but not really diving into action. I pick a handful of ripe radishes for my breakfast and just enjoy their colours and different shapes and sizes. I note a few things without emotion – some creature has uprooted a bok choy plant, so I plant it back into the soil gently. Another creature has eaten off the flowers of the haskap bushes. I get one haskap and that might be the only one of the year. Oh well. The weeds are as tall as my waist in one row. More to do. But later.

There’s a scent of campfire in the air. I’m not sure why, and given that it’s wildfire season, I make a mental note to check the wildfire status later. The sky is overcast and the air is heavy. There’s no rain in the forecast but something feels like it. I look towards the driveway and see the sun coming up and the clouds aren’t as thick there. Only tell will tell if there’s rain.

I don’t race to feed chickens, weed another row or water anything. I don’t try and push my thoughts in a certain direction. There’s no need to, nothing really occurs. If it does, it’s fleeting and not of much importance.

The whole time the ego swamps with suggestions for doing. Weeding! Feed the rabbits! Plant the plants you got from your friend yesterday! Check the chickens! I think and discard each one.

Staying in being without doing feels a little awkward still. It’s going to take more practice for this girl who’s always in motion. My walk arounds ends in short order but the feeling stays. I throw on the kettle. Sit here and enjoy the rumble of the fan of the furnace while I thoughtfully tap out this post. Drink my tea slowly.

There’s power in slow beginnings to the day. To giving yourself a little space and time to check in, just enjoy being. I double dog dare you to try it one morning. Take an extra cup of coffee. Linger over the kitchen table. Curl up in your favourite outdoor chair and watch the traffic go by. Sit on your front porch and soak in your neighbourhood. Take your dog for an early morning walk. Savour it a little.

Because, why not?