Attempting a new routine is dodgy ground for me as almost immediately something will happen to scupper it. The usual chaos descends, I fall into,'Oh FFS, why do I even bother?' and the old resentments start bubbling up and whispering evils in my ear.
So no, I do not have a new routine for my mornings because that would be tempting fate and recalcitrant children and flat car batteries and lost lunch boxes and people who 'don't do morning' to get all up in my face and make me spit.
Which sadly, is something of a routine.
However, when it's possible I intend to spend some time in the morning - just 15-20 minutes or so - experiencing peace. Even if that means simply repeating the word as my mantra and remembering to breathe. Deep.
This morning was a good morning. I got 20 minutes, alone, in silence bar the incredible birdsong outside and the sound of next door's ducks. I turned off the lamp so only the breaking morning brought light, I threw on a warm woollen shawl given to me by a loved one, opened the window and just sat.
Back in December, during a guided meditation in the company of friends, I was given another gift. This time - either from spirit or in the language of my heart - I met a deer, with antlers and a small crown. Despite the antlers, she was female. She gave me a small box and inside it was the letter A. What that meant wasn't clear to me so I let it sit.
This morning, as I gazed out at the tree people, loving the sense of starting my day at a natural pace with no pressure and no clock-watching, I saw her again. This time in the here and now. And the A? Start at the beginning. Begin again.