the snail who joined my morning ritual

For years — and I mean years — I've wanted to wake up at 4am for a morning ritual. 

Every time I heard someone talk about their early morning practice, something in me lit up. “That's me! That's who I want to be.” I'd imagine myself moving through the dark hours before everyone else woke up: writing, reading, meditating, moving my body, getting grounded before the day could get its hands on me.

For the last couple of years I've been an early-ish riser — six, six-thirty, respectable by most standards. But the start of my day still felt rushed, and by the time I got to work I felt a little unmoored.

This week, I finally did it. Today is day three of waking at 4am, and by 7am I've written, read, meditated, exercised, and started my day feeling like I've met myself first. .

I'm not suggesting everyone should do this — it's just something I knew was meant for me deep down.

The Snail

On the first morning, I laid my yoga mat out in the backyard and looked up at the stars. That's when I saw it: a snail, gliding slowly across the rug toward me. My first reaction was something between a flinch and a laugh.

The second morning, I came outside and there they were again.

By this morning, day three, I found myself walking outside hoping to see them. And when I slid open the back door, I was beside myself with joy as I saw they were in the same spot as the two days prior.  This snail has the same early morning practice I have. What started as a little bit gross, then became a funny coincidence, has turned into something that feels like magic. Like a friend.

I'm already looking forward to seeing it tomorrow. I think I'd genuinely feel the loss on the morning they don’t show up.

I like to think the snail showed up to remind me of something I might have missed if I'd rushed past it: that it's good to slow down. That the small things — a creature moving an inch an hour across a rug in the dark — are worth noticing. That the whole point of getting up before the world does isn't to accomplish more. It's to actually be there for your own life as it happens.

An Invitation

So here's what I'm sitting with, and what I want to offer you too: what's something you've wanted to do for a long time — years, maybe — that has just felt too hard to start?

What might magic open up for you if you accepted the invitation and listened to your gut? It might be something as small as a new snail friend. Or perhaps even grander.

If you're circling something you've wanted for years and want a thought partner on how to actually start it, that's exactly the kind of conversation I love having. Email me and let's talk.