The day after Christmas

Haruki Murakami is up before the sun. He writes for 3-4 hours and then runs 10km.

Tony Gilroy commutes to his writing desk in New York first thing. He rereads his script from the day before and drinks coffee. He goes out and walks the streets of New York, the rhythm of movement helping to resolve character and dialogue.

Brian Koppleman rises early. He goes straight to journaling in his private ‘morning pages’ then meditates for 20 minutes. He drinks coffee with his wife. He turns his attention to the immediate writing tasks for the day.

Laruga Glasser steps onto her mat at daylight and begins with pranayama. She moves through the basic asanas using the breath to unify mind and body, working to find the centre and fix the root. She grounds herself for the deeper work of the complex asanas and to prepare for her students. 

My Shed

My Shed

We all have different goals. We all have different definitions of success. The people cited above are successful and well known. You don’t need to be well known to have a morning routine but you do need to have commitment. What is interesting about the sample above is these people get up thinking about doing the work, not about their status in the world. 

The commitment to how you begin your day is a commitment to possibility. A daily practice of doing, of making a start, is a gesture of creativity. Working at something over the long term, at something you’ll never perfect, reveals the poignancy, grace and richness within life.

 Christmas doesn’t mean we stop. It means we pause and gather ourselves. It’s a time of sharing and giving and reflection. The day after Christmas we get up and go back to our studios, our desks, our gyms, mats and sheds. 

 We get up to recommence, to start again and to seek possibility.