Always have an early alarm, every day.
No matter where you are and what you did the night before. Even if you are planning to sleep in. An early alarm ensures that you are brought softly and gently into the world, gives your brain a predictable power on time and allows you to enjoy a comfortable half-dream-like state from which you can reach your tentacles out from the sweet depths of rem sleep and feel the air outside. Taste it before hand and decide how you feel about it. When you get up 5 minutes before you leave the house, you are rushing your body, mind and spirit jarring it from where it was and not giving it time to make any mental adjustments. Then you end up being cranky and confused for the most part of the mornings. (I know you know want I mean). An early alarm is not necessarily based on a certain time. It is simply based on the hours before you need to face the world.I don’t mean that you get up at 4 am every day , I am just suggesting that your 1st alarm should be 1 hour before you actually have to get up so you can have the sweet pleasure of realizing “ I have one hour to go”. That sweet feeling permeates into the rest of your day and you will over time stop being cranky nuisance to society.(Unless crankiness is your personality type). It nudges you in toe by toe into the day through the shallow end. In that hazy half sleep sate you can begin telling yourself stories, expectations, worries about the day and deciding how you may handle it. Don’t get me wrong sometimes your body and mind will rebel and hijack your entire system to grab all the sleep it can get. So do try and have some early nights to cover your bases or you will have a hostage situation your alarm can’t save you from. On particularly long and heavy weeks I can completely miss my first alarm. So in conclusion is have an early alarm. Stop landing into the day kicking and screaming and being a crabby nuisance to the rest of society. So the people around you have to tip toe around your bad mood and abandoned hair. Don’t be a nuisance. Start early. em..:)
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“What are you afraid of”, She shouted. As if she wasn’t close enough she moved even closer burying the words in my ear. “Tell me. What-Are-You-Afraid-Of”. Every syllable ringing in my ears.
The woman (Lets call her slick because I don’t know her name and it is a bad ass name) was standing behind me. I didn’t know where I was or how I got there. But then again isn’t that how it always happens. Those dramatic movies which starts in a dark room with a big man beating someone up. Well she had beaten me up pretty bad, but I’m strong. I’m not fragile anymore, I don’t break. Besides she wasn’t trying to break me, just bend a little. I was trained and I could feel her holding back the blows. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In fact it hurt a lot. Everywhere. After every blow she would shout the same words: “What are you afraid of?” I was gagged so I couldn’t even respond. I figured she was trying to reinforce the question. Over and over again. Blow after blow followed by the tormenting tirade of questions. “What are you afraid of?” “What are you afraid of?” Then she leaves. I’ve come to regret those 5 words more than the blows. Words hit harder than stone because in the silence that follows they are what remains. I can feel my throbbing body but my mind is louder. After 3 weeks the words are louder than the pain. From the tick tock of a dripping faucet just outside the door I count 15 minutes before the door opens again and she repeats the process. Blows followed by the tormenting questions. “What are you afraid of?” “Why can’t you be who you are meant to be and live to the fullest?” “Why do you sit in self-made chains?” “What are you afraid of?” “What are you afraid of?” Before you get emotionally invested let me fill you in. This is the work of Toran. Toran is a monk who is stalking me. Let me re-phrase, I stalked Toran for many years. Up the Himalayas, round the freaking atlas and down the amazon rain forest depths. I searched high and low for this guru who apparently knew the answers to life’s happiness. Up to the point where I secretly didn’t want to find him. Instead I started enjoying the various adventures, the planning, mapping routes, following scents. Like a happiness detective (or puppy). But alas, I found him or as I realized he let me find him. At least I hope that’s the story. Or I may been kidnapped by some crazy woman (named slick ) who wants to torture me into fearless-ness. So before you start to feel sorry for me. This is entirely my own doing. I figured Toran is just bored of traditional teaching methods. It must get tiring sitting up on a mountain somewhere and giving answers to confused wandering souls which they should have gotten from Google or Paulo Coelho. Also 21st century life questioners weren’t like old time philosophers who are willing to mediate and hum for 3 years waiting for an answer. We are from the internet age, we click and expect some results. I can’t (or won’t) meditate (or hum). So perhaps this is his “millennial” solution. By making us answer ourselves without being able to lie. Hmmm that’s not a bad idea. But I’m still bitter. The cycle includes 3 such sessions every morning and 2 sessions a night. Which gave me plenty of time seated alone in the dark to contemplate. The 1st week I wasted a lot of mental energy trying to escape. Then the 2nd week was spent feeling sorry for myself. This week is very zen. Like a song whose melody you know and can hum along. The days became repetitive and easy to numb out. Now I’m in a, “let life be as it will be “mood. My mental energy is spent fantasizing about water melons and a soft couch. Slick is very good at making sure I don’t get fatally injured, just hurt. And never hits the same spot twice in 3 days so it can heal. Nevertheless I am not planning a big, “thank you for teaching me the hard way “, speech anytime soon. Just as I was beginning a mental rant of ethics the door swings back. I brace myself for the blow and the questions (The last for the day). “What are you afraid of? I want one word? “ “Just one word and you will be free to go. One word? I don’t even try to scream back into the gag any more, I gave that up in week 2. Slick is not concerned about my answers. “I want one word” “What are you afraid of?” She leaves. I hunch over for a rest but the doors swings open again. Taking me by surprise. Slick straightens me up on the chair and blind folds me. Then another chair is dragged in front of me and the minute the door opens I can smell Him .Its Toran. I know what he smells like because I have been on his trail for so long (Creepy I know). Before I can work up all my rage I feel a soft silk cloth on my bare right shoulder. It was pressed gently 5 times. So gently I can barely feel it. But my soul immediately feels something. I can’t place it. Like when you remove you shoes after a long day or sit down after a long hike. Release. For the 1st time in 3 weeks they un-gag me and the soft voice comes to me in a whisper: “What are you afraid of?” |