Mornings. Just the name makes many collegiettes groan, and I used to be one of them. A being of the night, I used to sleep when the sun rose and repeat the whole process over again. Waking up at 12, 1, or even 2PM was no sweat and actually made me felt quite accomplished.
However my perspective changed when I travelled to the Philippines during Winter Break. Arriving in the rural part of the southern region left me jetlagged and culture shocked. I just survived a 14 hour long plane ride to Hong Kong, a 2 hour flight to the capital of the Philippines itself, and an additional hour and a half ride south of the country to where we would spend a third of our trip. Needless to say, I rarely slept, so after we finished unpacking and introducing ourselves to the people hosting us, I passed out.
I woke up to the sound of ocean waves and a dark room. Using half of the day before to recover, I couldn’t sleep anymore. My phone was on the other side of the room, so I didn’t bother getting up to check what time it was. So I laid there, listening to the waves crash on the shore and the breathing of the other occupants in the room. Soon enough, soft pieces of light entered which motivated me to actually get up and explore. Going down to the kitchen, I checked the clock on the wall: 5:00 AM. This amazed me because I never really had the motivation to actually wake up at a time before 11AM unless I was forced to. I went outside and greeted the grandmother of the house we were staying at with a good morning. We made small talk while I pet one of the stray dogs in the neighborhood. I watched the neighborhood streets get brighter and the sky get bluer. I listened to roosters crow every ten minutes while staring at the vast ocean and for once, I felt really at peace with myself. It felt revolutionary and it was only 7 o’clock. It made me feel like I could accomplish anything with all the time I had, something extremely different from the city where I was always pressed for time. No matter how long I spent on an activity it always felt like I had time left to spare. As the cliché goes, I really did get the most out of my day. Waking up early also sent me to bed early, 8PM to be exact. From there I continued the cycle, and to this day that part of the trip remains one of the best memories.
Sadly when I got back to Illinois, the euphoria of waking up early didn’t last long. I was back to my old ways, but I noticed a change. A disgust, if you will, of waking up at any time after 10AM. I felt sad because I felt like my whole day was gone which prompted me every weekend to attempt to wake up early.
It’s still a work in progress since it’s really tempting to go back to sleep, but the pour of light through the blinds of my window is what I live for. The quietness of the house, the sensation of being the only one awake, the feeling of being able to dedicate those precious hours of silent solitude to myself are all prime examples of why I believe mornings are the best. Waking up early sets me at peace with myself, and who wouldn’t want that?