Early morning, about 5 am as I write. I like getting up early in the morning. It has always been a time of day that seemed special to me. It is dark and quiet, ... more than quiet, there is a stillness in the air, as if the day were a hunting cat, hunched and ready to pounce on the earth. To me this is exciting and full of possibility. Nothing has happened yet, so anything can happen.
This stands in stark contrast to popular opinion about morning. In fact, I have very rarely met anyone who was such a morning lover as I am. If the topic comes up there is usually a minority of people who say they like them. But in any group situation where overnight stays were involved, I am invariably the first to rise by a wide margin, no matter what shenanigans took place the night before. Those who previously professed a love of mornings are sleeping like logs long after I have eaten breakfast, read the paper, taken a walk, and planned the day.
You would think that this has translated into an enormous amount of productivity. It is one of the first thoughts that cross most people's minds when they realise what a morning freak I am. Well, from a material point of view, the answer is not really. I don't get up with any sense of ambition. I have just as much trouble motivating myself to work as the next person.
I think the only conclusion you can draw about me from all this is that I like to maintain a sense of perspective in life. I like being in the background, observing all the chaotic life events from an oasis of order that I have created in my mind. This is not always possible, but if I can foster that attitude, I feel very satisfied. For me, the early morning, as the sun peeks over the horizon, embodies that feeling.