A Day That Doesn’t Scatter

There are mornings when I wake up and already know it’s going to be a down day. My mind feels scattered, and I don’t want to get out of bed. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up moving from the bed to the couch and staying there.

I’ve learned not to ask too much of mornings like that. I start with one small thing. I make tea—usually something I blended the night before to bring a little clarity and keep me present. This morning, it was my Morning Awareness blend: one teaspoon hibiscus, one teaspoon tulsi, a small pinch of rose petals, two slices of fresh ginger, a pinch of mint, and a bit of citrus peel, steeped for seven to ten minutes.

I step outside and stand there for a while—long enough to feel the air and let the desert sun settle in. That’s enough. I don’t build anything on top of it. I just get my footing before the day starts making noise.

By midday, things begin to loosen. My energy drops, and my attention pulls in too many directions at once. Instead of trying to fix it, I stay with what’s in front of me. I load the dishwasher, wipe down the counter, start the laundry. Simple things—work I can feel in my hands. It helps me stay in one place.

In the afternoon, I don’t try to think my way through anything. That usually makes it worse. I move instead. I take a short walk, stretch a little, spend some time in the garden, or sit somewhere quiet. I’m not looking for answers. I’m just letting things settle.

Before evening, I take a moment with whatever is still there—something unfinished or sitting just under the surface. If there’s anxiety or frustration, I write it down and read it out loud. Then I turn it over to God so it doesn’t follow me into the night.

After that, everything gets quieter. There’s less light, less noise, less expectation. I’ve learned not to push for clarity when I’m worn thin. It comes easier when I’m holding less. Most days, that one small thing in the morning is enough to keep the rest from drifting too far. 

Just life, noticed slowly.