BEFORE THE WORLD WAKES

It’s been more than a month.

I accepted a challenge.  Nope.  I honoured a vow to myself to deliver to myself.  Offer myself the integrity that I give to the jobs that I’m hired for.  

I’ve been busy. Writing. Making music. Honing my craft. Building something I can no longer ignore.

For a long time, I was living in “one day” land.  I would get to the play…one day. I was circling it. Researching. Thinking. Gathering skills. Dreaming.  But “one day” is a trap.

In the last month, something shifted.

The shift: I joined the 5AM club.
Yes. I know.

At 5AM, there’s no one but me, myself, and the work.

The first week was wobbly. Some days I anticipated my alarm. Other days I slept right up until I heard the birds chirping. The birds are my alarm, not the actual birds. I don’t sleep with my phone in my room. It lives downstairs, on the desk in my little writing nook.  So when the birds start chirping, I have no choice but to get up and shut them up.

At first it was the 6AM club, but my body kept waking before 6, so I listened.  There’s something about waking before the noise. Before the excuses wake up.  Before everyone else gets a say.

What I’ve learned: discipline is freedom, not punishment.

January and February are usually difficult months for me mentally. Especially if I’m not booked on a job.  My sense of worth starts to dip.  Anxiety and melancholy creep in. In the not-so-distant past, I’ve let those emotions lead the season.

This year, I decided to build differently.  Thank Fire Horse energy.

Instead of waiting to feel inspired, I decided to show up, period.

My mornings set the tone for my day. I meditate.  Check in. Journal. Move my body – kettlebells or restorative movement.  Then I write.  I sit with the characters.  Ask them to come forward.  Sometimes they don’t want to speak.  But when they do, they pour out of me like water breaking through a dam.  

I’m building a practice of being available — to be blessed by one of the muses.  And it’s changing me.

Less negotiation now. Less bargaining with comfort. Less “one day.” The five-year-old who used to choreograph living room Broadway numbers isn’t waiting her turn. She’s watching her dreams unfold.

The early hours are teaching me discipline.

Not hustle. Not grind.

Discipline shows up. Again. And again. And again.

And I am more grounded because of it.

There’s a lot I don’t know about writing a play. I don’t know where this road ends or what shape the final work will take. I have so much to learn.

But what I do know is this: I am no longer talking about “one day.”

I’m awake.
And I’m so excited.