Mornings

Mornings come, when you give them a moment they are less intimidating. To some a morning is a blessing, a welcoming start to a new day. To others "morning" can mean anything from a disturbed night sleep tossing and turning anxiously about their proposed wake up. You see I used to be like exhibit B, Things changed, later into my teenage years. The trick I found was resonate a happy memory to an early morning time, this mindset enabled me to crave that moment and wake up on time.

Annoying that is for some. I suppose I may have morphed into that breed that is far too punctual and people may despise for their sheer bounce at the sound of morning. My sister will literally shrivel at the word.

Mornings have always been part of my everyday, from the early wake up times working out in Asia. Awoken in time to hear the clatter of the market stalls and the endless mopeds passing below my balcony. Morning in Asia began at sunrise if not before. Morning was electrifying to the senses what with the smell of the street foods the wafting sniffs of pho, The deep pungent aroma of fresh Vietnamese coffee similar to thick tar at a glance. The humid air gradually leaving a stickiness to the skin as the sun rises bellowing its rays through the smog filled skies.

The sounds gradually become deafening as the hours pass and stays that way until the afternoon siesta. If you can call it that? Market stall owners sit head down, but eyes wide shut. Markets must be attended early to avoid the chaos and secure your Banh mi, the hustle and bustle can make the most patient bight their tongue. One can be excused for the decadent taste that awaits, however........

Something which I have never quite forgotten the sounds and the smells, the sheer determination of the market goers bustling round to secure their fresh purchases and best price. The screeches of the owners proudly screeching out their deals of the day.

So you will see Mornings are not to everyones palette, I love the freshness of the air, the chatter of the birds welcoming a new day. The silence of my near world, leaving me room to gather my thoughts. A time of least distraction and 100% imagination.

The silence of the hay fields awash with morning dew, horses laying down neatly curled from the nights recoup. Eyes to the sky the morning is fresh, gentle tweets of the morning birds proudly emitting their chorus. Silence of the stroll gathering thoughts and awakening the mind.

Country silence is craved but it can be found, just a few moments of calm a slight tap into the mind.

Mornings in London are most definitely a priority for myself. I have to be on the dot ahead of the clock. I have to see that sunrise over the river or whatever the morning wants to bellow out. I need to see that promise of day those miracle moments of quietness and stillness. From the window from the street, from the river.

The links of these memories all grasp me to the feeling of precious memories stored in my mind. Craving that feeling for the new day those few moments of time. One would say its a form of healing, true mornings do make me feel more in tune, Mornings make me feel home they make me feel alive.