Allowing Yourself a Slow Morning Intention

Do you sometimes feel the world is loud and the days move too fast? 

In this episode, you’ll hear an original poem, “Awaken,” written by Lia Girard, inviting you to consider how slowing down your mornings can create more peace. Lia offers encouragement to be present in the early quiet of the day as a promise to yourself.

Today’s reflection welcomes you to: 

- allow yourself to awaken gently

- picture the day ahead as an open pitcher that you fill and pour

- feel free to empty and refill yourself with what feels kind and gracious

You’ll also be given a phrase, inspired by the poem, to ponder as your week unfolds.

Lia Girard is a poet, writer, author, wife, and mom whose feature articles are found on iBelieve.com, Crosswalk.com, and other inspirational platforms. 

You can explore her poetry, often inspired by the wonders of nature, on Instagram: @wildpeace.poetry. 

If you love the show, or any episode resonates with you, please rate or review the show on your favorite platform, or email your feedback to lia@wildpeacepoetry.com.

Transcript

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Lia Girard 0:01

Hello and welcome to Heart of a Wildflower. This is a space that invites you to slow down, reconnect, and find beauty in every season. I'm Lia Girard, your host, and I'm so glad you're here. In each episode, we'll consider an aspect of love, longing, or life, such as heartache, healing, or hope, by reading and exploring a poem together. We'll end with a thoughtful word or phrase to contemplate as your week unfolds. Can I ask you a question? Have you ever woken up feeling sort of, I don't know, pressed down by a mixture of feelings that are difficult to define? If so, you may appreciate our poem today. I wrote it in a dark hotel room while my husband was driving a family member to the airport for a pre-dawn flight. Maybe it surfaced because I was away from home and had unscheduled quiet time to think. Although, wherever I am, this odd mixture of confusion and overload and contemplation actually hits me many mornings, along with fragile seedlings of creativity and compulsion. If you've ever not bolted right out of bed and just laid still for a while, assessing your spirit and your surroundings, then maybe you'll find a piece of yourself in today's poem titled Awaken. Awaken. In the open pitcher of morning, while pillows are warm from wrestling dreams, silence is a sacred covering. In its shelter there is room to gather your sorrows, stir in your strengths, and make yourself a promise that you will pour cups of grace and peace when the world is loud. Can you visualize this with me that morning is an empty pitcher, whatever shape you want it to be? Can you imagine slowly filling it with whatever you choose? If you're lucky enough to have a comfortable bed, and whether or not you slept well, in the morning your blanket is likely holding your warmth, echoing your aliveness. And even if you don't feel safe once you're awake, please notice that somehow you made it through the phase that you reserve for sleep, whatever that time frame is within the 24 hours we're given. Every day the sun rises with a light show that never repeats itself because creation is turning over a new leaf for you. This continual miracle of a brand new day comes reverently and always. And because life is always a journey of battling difficulties, appreciating blessings, and moving through change, I've now discovered that I need my mornings to move more slowly. Somehow. I don't always protect or get this, but I do now know I need it. I need to try somehow every day to take time to align my mind with a healthy intention. And perhaps this is something you need too. Maybe right now you're in the thick of parenting. You could be busy growing a marriage or a career or setting any number of goals. In fact, mornings can often be a blur. For decades, my days began like a starting gun and chugged at full speed, even beyond bedtime. But if you start a practice now of choosing your response to the day ahead, this is a commitment you make only to yourself. No one can judge or measure you on it. And how lovely that you can think it over in the hush of morning before any rush. While you slowly stir awake, picture your empty pitcher. Turn it and let it catch the light in your mind. What does it feel like in your hands? Can you think of how you'd like to refill it today? What do you want to pour out? What do you need to do to gather yourself and move at a tempo that feels kind? Let's look back at the center portion of our poem today, which says this about morning: In its shelter, there is room to gather your sorrows, stir in your strengths, and make yourself a promise. Notice it doesn't say whip up all your happy thoughts and toss out the bad ones. I'm suggesting that life is always a blend of sorrows and strengths. And from that, you can make your own kind of day. Take a few moments to consider what's possible and what's provided and what's most important to you. Your rising thoughts as you awaken are sort of your superjuice. It's when you say what kind of a world you're going to see and what kind of person you want to be. So think about this with me. Tomorrow morning, or whenever it happens that you begin a new day, let yourself rise slowly. Picture yourself as a vessel that, no matter how broken, is fully capable of holding whatever you want to carry on purpose. I hope whatever your day holds, that you also feel free to be empty and refill yourself at any moment. As we close, I'd like to leave you with a phrase from the poem to ponder, and that phrase is "when the world is loud." Loud can be energizing or exciting, but can also be dulling and overwhelming and exhausting. Today's poem proposes that you choose how you want to feel when activities escalate into noise or static. Deciding how you want to move through a hullabaloo of messages is a present, or better yet, presence that you give yourself. Because the world can indeed be noisy. However, the sun will soon rise to remind you and me that it can also be a gentle arrival of grace and peace. Thank you for spending this time with me today. I hope it offered you room to reflect and reconnect with yourself. I wanted to take a moment here to share a wonderful comment I received on Apple Podcasts. A recent listener said, "Lia, you feel like a close friend. Your poems have given me a space to reflect on things I've not thought about in a long time. You truly have created a safe space for reflection and healing. For what it's worth, you have my support. Thank you." I don't know your name, sweet listener, but I need to tell you, your support is everything. You are who I do this for, and I thank you very much. If this episode spoke to you, please share it with a friend. Leave a comment on your favorite platform, connect with me in the show notes, or drop me an email at lia@ wildpeacepoetry.com. That's L I A at wildpeacepoetry.com. You can also find my poetry and message me on Instagram @wildpeace.poetry. Until next time, keep blooming in your own wild and wonderful way.