This morning after my morning pages, I fell asleep for an hour or so. I never wake up and then fall back asleep like that. I was shocked the alarm clock said 9:30 a.m. that was late for me.
I feel like with all of the things I’m doing my evolution is progressing. Who knew I’d be getting up early in the morning for a run to a hot yoga studio. 6 weeks straight. My focus has gotten sharper. I’m more easy going. From the outside looking in, it looks like I’m in a cult. I preform the same rituals each morning. Wake up, write, tea, vitamins, solid food, 10 push ups for energy, gym clothes, backpack, run to yoga studio, run back, shower, read. Meditate. do said errand. Back home, eat. Watch something of purposeful interest. Plan the next day. Sleep. Repeat. I guess it makes me appreciate the only person in my everyday world. Him and the writing are my only freedoms from this human prison. I don’t know why I call it a prison it’s more so a solid routine that keeps me in check. When I lived without routine it was absolutely freeing but terrifying. I now use those memories and transform them into art. Or I’m hoping to…anyway. Meaning if it weren’t for writing, I’d completely lose it. Like I lost it before. But this is talk of the past. The past is gone. In the now, I’m running…every morning. Eating home cooked meals and sleeping when the sun goes down.