I sleep badly. I wake too early. And for years I’ve made the best of it, using every pre-dawn hour productively — to work, to write, to read, and to watch the news. But lately, that’s changed. When I’m up with (or before) the birds, I brew my coffee, I park myself in the front room, I close my eyes — blissfully sipping French Roast — and I sit with the quiet. Not in the quiet, but “with.”
Then I listen. Just listen.
This is very new for me. What’s more, this altered a.m. routine has arrived on the scene without my overt action or conscious knowledge, no doubt at least in part the reason for my recent musings on mindfulness.
Perilous Productivity?
My former (decades-old) four- or five-a.m. routine: Take advantage of morning’s uncluttered mental space by doing, which generally means writing or working, making lists to manage my day’s most critical tasks, scanning the news online and then reading a half dozen or so articles.
Yet these past two weeks I’ve been not writing first thing, not turning on or reading the news, but rather, expressly choosing to sit in the silence and allow myself to feel it, to sink into it, to not think.
Like many people I know, for too long I’ve been trying to turn down the volume on noise — the noisy observations and assessments and (productivity) demands in my head; the noisy (noxious) news which seems to crush the spirit and creeps into every available corner of consciousness if we aren’t careful; even the noisy, nagging, frequently garrulous outpouring of words that I’m happy to have occupying my mind at times, just not all the time.
Is this an American challenge? A writer’s challenge? A Type A challenge?
Is this just who I am?
Quiet, Quiet Everywhere… Only Now, Why Do I Care?
Maybe this new routine is coming more “naturally“ to me because of the issues I’ve had with my hands, limiting the amount of time I can type on a laptop, and dictating into a device is a drag.
Maybe it all started the morning I must’ve listened to the rain for an hour, to its battering against my windows and then its tapering off, to its eventual soft, steady drumming on exterior sills and a small landing below one of my windows. Oh. So. Peaceful.
Maybe its appeal deepened as I realized there are many more sounds to be appreciated in the silence: the creak of hundred-year-old floorboards beneath my bare feet; the gurgle of Mr. Coffee as my second pot of coffee brews; a train whistle somewhere in the distance; and by 6:30 or seven, the neighborhood waking — footsteps overhead, doors opening, gates closing, car engines starting up. These are the sounds of the city waking that I love. And as the sky brightens and everyone outside my little bubble picks up their morning pace, I just may reach for a book for a half hour, enjoying its heft in my lap and the sound of turning pages, almost as satisfying as the good words within.
By 7:30 or eight? Yep. I need to be productive. Or guilt sets in.
Internal and External Listening
Curious to know if listening to the quiet is a “thing” — especially in contrast to the cacophony of contemporary life and the all too unrelenting stream of horrifying news — I poked around and came across this article from Inner Self. These words, in particular, caught my fancy:
We cannot make the world shut up, but we can learn to be quiet and in turn to see that the world reflects our own hushed state of mind…
It takes energy to constantly think. Thinking is an action, something we do. Silence, on the other hand, is the state of the mind at rest, the mind unoccupied.
Hmmm. Is this mindfulness? Beats me. Is it meditation? Don’t think so. Is it the latest evolution of some self-preservational instinct — carving out and benefiting from the “bubble” I mentioned above that enables me, ultimately, to stay sane in an increasingly insane world? Oh right… and to contribute?
Does labeling this quiet time matter?
As for the point that thinking is an action — and therefore, without a break, tiring — that’s an excellent reminder. However…
Not Think? Really?
Intentionally emptying my mind (when I’m directed to do so) is nearly impossible for me. Being told to meditate, likewise. Besides, morning, my favorite time, has always been directed toward tasks. And I like thinking, analyzing, imagining…
But here’s what I’m asking myself. What happens when I’m back to spending as many hours as I want on my laptop? What if I continue to allow my pre-dawn morning mind to wander for an hour (or more) “listening” instead of forcing myself to forge ahead? Would I be more productive later? More energized? More relaxed?
Certainly, I have my ways of lightening a dark mood, resetting energy on a rough day, or otherwise shoring up a feeling of well-being — sensory stimuli like favorite fragrances and images offer a nice dopamine spike that’s (sometimes) better than chocolate.
Unfortunately, these are temporary in nature.
Changing Things Up
Where I’ve often found my necessary “respite” — its positive effects far-reaching — is walking. But that isn’t always possible as a matter of inclement weather or physical condition.
Yes, there is silver polishing, but it’s not like I have a Downton Abbey treasure trove of objets calling my name. I wonder… Is this “morning quiet” a more viable option? And will it evaporate into thin air as strangely and suddenly as it appeared?
What I know is this: For however long it lasts, sitting with the early morning quiet is doing the trick. Something calming. Something moderating. And I’m going with it.
What is your early morning like? How do you find a few moments of “listening” that don’t feel stolen or insistently directing you toward tasks? What’s your favorite time of day for feeling whatever and however you actually feel — without stressing or justifying or explaining it away?
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We used to do a lot more thinking like this, probably not just while sitting, but while doing mundane things like polishing silver, weeding gardens, ironing, mending, knitting. The hands move on their own, while the mind explores new territory. Now, we are “entertained” all the time.
I agree with the comment from your previous post that meditation is a practice. I suspect that having learned it and come to be nurtured by it, you will continue it.
When I was seven I spent a summer with relatives on a small farm in North Carolina. I remember we spent an awful lot of time on the porch snapping peas and preparing other vegetables. At that age, I was bored to death. Now, I would probably consider it time well spent.
Snapping peas. That does sound relaxing…
I wake anytime between 4am – 7:30am. It’s usually my oldest dog who wakes me. I then make a small pot of coffee and dogs get a cookie. I don’t turn on tv or music. I live alone so my home is quiet.
I enjoy at minimum 2 hours of that peaceful state most of the time sitting outside on my private patio listening to the birds and the palm trees wind song. I pay attention to the weather, cloud change and different direction of the breeze.
In the distance, I can hear a car drive by, a construction worker hammering a new build down the street. In the very far distance, I hear the constant humming of tires treading the highway. At 9am the fire station close behind my home will test their alarms; every morning. My youngest dog might bark to alert me, but mostly wants to play fetch or listen to our surroundings like me.
When the weather doesn’t permit outside because it’s too cold. I sit in a room next to the window with the curtain open so I can see out and allow the sun to shine on me.
Occasionally, I will check news or a favorite blog using my phone. Mostly I just enjoy this non-task time. When I’m ready, no certain time, I start the chores of my life when there is no physical or emotional pain. It’s going through windows of my life as best I am able staying in the moment.
It’s sometimes challenging not to ruminate about the past and emotionally difficult to think of my future.
Somewhere last year, my meditation practice turned to the needs of sleep, instead of clearing my mind of chatter and rampage of random thoughts. I think it might be my stage of surrender to so much that is truly not in my control. Attention to my own life bubble, perhaps?
I enjoyed your previous post on “mindfulness” and the wonderful comments! I just never got around to the comment of my own. But I enjoyed your muse!
I think it’s a healthy sign that you’ve come to this point of sitting with the silence. It’s a different kind of rest for the mind and body than sleep or meditation. I’ve always been able to do this… think about nothing without the help of a mantra or breath work, but I’ve always wondered if it was a sign there wasn’t much going on upstairs in my brain? LOL! xoxox, B
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I take an hour for myself every morning. A habit I learned from living with my great grandmother for six months when I was a young adult. Have you listened to the noise bugs make early in the morning? As I’ve aged I can deeply appreciate the creaking noise the old trees in my backyard make. We have something in common now which I find funny.
Since the weather has become warm I enjoy sitting on the patio, eyes closed and listening to my pups explore the early morning yard.
My quiet time isn’t always quiet. Sometimes I listen to music that makes me want to move or lifts my spirit. I may listen to a podcast I’ve been putting off. There is no news, no hint of anything negative that can assault my senses.
If I’m ever able to retire, my morning quiet time will be extended to afternoon and evening.
Is this mindfulness? Is it meditation? Does labeling this quiet time matter?
I’ll try to answer this in the context of Buddhism, as I understand it (although meditation is recognized by other disciplines – more than you might think). In general, Buddhism shies away from labeling. This question is a good example of why. Life has more complexity than simple labels could describe and it is far more important to strive for the clear and calm states of mindfulness/meditation than to focus on the names.
What if I continue to allow my pre-dawn morning mind to wander for an hour (or more) “listening” instead of forcing myself to forge ahead? Would I be more productive later?
Yes. Buddhism is all about usefulness, so none of this would be recommended if there weren’t a practical benefit from focusing on what matters. Cognitive science says so too – letting the mind wander and it experiencing many differing stimuli contributes substantially to creativity (in line with the childhood saying “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”). I’ve also seen it said that meditating helps reduce the need to sleep.
Payback for an hour of investment is a stretch, though, especially at first. In the beginning it is more important to do what feels comfortable or beneficial than to strive for some arbitrary number. Ten or twenty minutes a day is recommended but even a few minutes here or there, done regularly, shows benefit.
When the seed is planted of what calm and clear looks like, it won’t become unseen. But neither will it be there automatically, or grow, without some periodic attention (pun intended). At first you will see the benefit of briefly going there consciously, and be more able to. Eventually your brain starts being clearer, calmer and more under your direction every moment.
MORNINGS for SURE! I do not rush ANYMORE……… sit and SIP and cruise the beauty of INSTAGRAM then I eat and get down to BUSINESS!
XX
I find Instagram to be a very mixed bag, increasingly filled with ads and promotions that detract from some of my previous pleasure. But your point is well taken, Contessa!
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