Camus tells us, “we must not be too concerned with others.”
This a suitably mystifying maxim from an author whose diet consisted of cigarettes, Parisian espresso, and family-sized helpings of existential philosophy. Yet it seems to me, in our quickly individualizing world, that Camus’ quip can be turned on its head: to be unhappy we must be too concerned with others.
How did you feel when this zero inch email landed in that five-inch mailbox beside your coffee and keys?
Were you excited? Were you curious? Annoyed? All of the above?
You might guess that I’m going to rail on that $700 piece of hardware; that I’m going to tell you how evil are those candy-colored icons; that the news is destroying the fabric of modern man.
But what I’m really concerned about is how you felt this morning before you opened your digital mailbox. Before you took out your digital knife and swiped open this letter from your digital pen-pal, Jeremy. Before you opened up yourself to the digital world.
We were sitting
at the bistro table in our “so-green-it-must-be-turf” side yard. February in Austin is like May in New England, sunny and blue, oscillating dependably between 50/70°. Sipping from her java-filled, teal ceramic mug, a friend asked:
“Your morning is the same every single day…? What if you have 5AM flight? Or a thirteen-mile run? Or a ten AM zoom call?
I told her the same thing I’ll tell you.
“You know how when you first meet someone,” I replied “it’s immediately clear whether or not you like them?”
She mmm’ed and nodded in agreement.
“Every day is different,” I replied. “And every morning is a first impression. So I make sure they all count.”
She took another sip and ahhhed a bit of steam.
A brief pause. Only the birds chimed in until she wondered:
“If you love your morning so much, what’s the best part?”
Every morning, I told her, before I jump into writing fiction, I do what Julia Cameron calls “the morning pages.” Those two short pages are like stretching out before a workout, or an appetizer before the main course. They prime you for the day.1
Morning pages from: 1/25/21
Award for best penmanship goes to… the transcript below
Because my handwriting hasn’t changed since 3rd grade, here’s the transcript:
Sleep, Sleep.
Sleep is slowly becoming a crucial pillar of the good life. In Why We Sleep Dr. Matt Walker explains just how vital the moments before and after sleep are to our productivity
When we sleep, Walker writes, our memories and experiences are solidified, even healed. Our internal processors are at their optimum gear about an hour after we rise.
So my entire first hour is a warm-up for writing.
If you remember from last week, a friend asked in (misplaced) amazement:
“How are you able to be so creative?”
There are three reasons. All of which relate to the first and last hours of the day.
I’m like an old man: eager to learn something new, but as married to my ways as a barista is to her coffee.
That’s why, today, we’re considering the first point:
Call me creature, or call me human. I say they are one in the same.
So what do the first and last hours of your day look like?
Do you check your phone? Turn on the Tv? Watch the news? Journal? Do you need your morning coffee, to avoid being like this guy?
Grouch
Caffeine is a Streich curse. Yet, as far as “morning mood” goes I am no different from a pleasantly addicted caffeineur.2 Which leads to the pressing question. What’s more important: the substance or the habit?
Euphoria. Reliability. Guarantee.
Whether it’s 30 seconds of scrolling or 30 minutes of yoga, most everyone has a ‘morning routine.’
Coffee or no coffee, yoga or no yoga, our routines are sacred.
I live for mine.
I once heard Barack and Michelle
Obama banter about his first days in the Senate……..
—Alas, I’ve already rambled enough for one morning.
For now, I challenge you to simply:
Consider your routines,
Don’t try to change them.
Merely identify.
In a few days, you’ll hear what Barack thinks. And how he may have replied to the Frenchman in question.
🙋🏼♂️ Grateful for your reading.
Please share this Substack with anyone who might enjoy what comes from the brainpickings of this meandering pen-hand.
My editor (Hi Stephanie) is going to smack me for “telling” you about my routine and not “showing” it... but I’m reluctant to force people to read about what I do before I’ve put on my Lulu’s
And like coffee, if I don’t get the fix, I’ll be a scrooge all day until it’s fixed. Just ask anyone who’s had the painful pleasure of traveling with this neurotic writer
