I get up really early to give myself the solitude I need to write in this tiny house. This act of self-love is a newish routine for me, and it’s helping me beat the winter blues. I encourage you to try getting up a bit earlier than usual. Loving yourself and dreaming on paper is fun, and just 15 minutes can make a big difference.
Alarm goes off at 4:00 am. I crawl down my ladder and start the water on for coffee.
I enjoy very much my mornings to myself: writing, reading, journaling, drinking coffee, showering, being naked, writing some more, reading some more and dreaming my day into existence is a healing tonic for my crammed body. We stood around a campfire with our neighbors last week and I shared my routine with some friends. Eyes get wide when I say how early I get up, but when I say it’s keeping me sane as I glance up the hill at our tiny house, they totally get it.
I am ready for my family to wake up now. Now that I’ve dreamt on paper, traveled the country by bike and imagined myself reciting poetry on stage in a tutu. The waking dreams of early morning are creating my life and it’s a multi-colored adventure. I am falling more in love with myself–a goal of mine. This love is where it starts, this living, this creating, this loving everything else.
I love being awake before the rooster; racing him to the punch, I crow loudly in silence.
After I play-dream, I write the work. I work to share. I’m excited about our upcoming eCourse. I go to sleep at night looking forward to waking up and dreaming, writing and putting into stories and assignments the steps of our plan. I can’t wait to help others find their own pathway to mortgage-freedom and simple living.
When I dream on paper, I’m dreaming up my own future, but it’s not just my future. I imagine all of us dreaming up a better future for our planet. It starts with the early morning dreamy falling-in-love-with-yourself and then it spills out into the rest of your life. You want it. You want it. You run toward this better life. This dreamy life of love and fulfillment. It’s right there. You just have to get up and do it. Here I am sitting at this computer telling you that’s all we do. We get up and do it.
The getting up is the part. The part that matters first, but then it’s the I’m getting up to create, not to read Facebook part. I’m sacrificing sleep so that I can be more awake in my day, so that I can share a raw part of my being, a part that only comes out at twilight. A part that crows before the rooster. A loud and tribal dancing tutu fairy who says, yeah, I can read poetry from a stage or bike across the country or weld with the boys.
I’m rambling the ramble that happens on lots of coffee and little sleep and a longer morning alone than I usually get. Thank you, sleep, for holding my family in your cradling arms. Whisper my love into their ears as they wake to this freezing and dark morning. Tell them I love them beyond loving because I love myself that way. I love them beyond loving because they are worthy of that love. They are enough. We are all enough. We have it right here and right now. We just have to wake to it. Wake at your own time, but wake to it.
I am writing like an uncensored fool. I want to be uncensored. I want to wear stripped socks with flowered boots and a purple tutu because that’s what I wear, and because it’s fun and it makes me want to dance. I am freeing myself with self-love, this overflowing self-love that says, you can wear that. You look fabulous in that. You are fabulous. Yes, Mama, you.
The horizon is turning pink. Can I keep this wild woman alive in the daylight? I wonder. I wonder all the time. But now, I will get off of this cushion in the corner of the tiny house and tidy and make breakfast and wear my ruffled apron like a tutu. I’ll dance with my daughter and sing with my son. I’ll tell my husband that he is sexy and rub his booty a little bit. Then I’ll make him some food and kiss his forehead. Then I’ll help him put the roof on our big house. I’ll dream this life into the world at twilight. I’ll hold the torch. I will. I’ll do this for the love of it all.
Please, will you do it, too, for the love of it all?