There is a special silence in the morning.
She's not talking about the absence of sounds — they are there: the clock is ticking, something is knocking outside the window, the cat is gently jumping on the windowsill. But all this is not noise. It is the breath of the world.

The morning is silent, but not because it has nothing to say.
It just gives you the space to hear yourself.
When the messengers weren't clogged yet, the calls hadn't started, and there was no sense of urgency. Just you, the air, and thoughts that take their time.

I'm learning more and more to start the morning as a concern rather than a task.
Don't grab your phone right away. Take a deep breath. Wash your face with cold water. Slowly brew the tea. Turn on the music where the voice seems to be whispering. Open the window, breathe in the morning. To be in the body, not in the head.
It's not about the ideal scenario. It's about attitude. About the choice: to start the day not with a "must", but with a "can".

And if you want to change something?
Sometimes the morning can be improved with a single new detail.
— Put a glass of water with lemon next to the bed.
— Buy a beautiful cup that you want to hold with both hands.
— Enter the "morning question": what do I want from this day?
— Make 3 minutes of silence mandatory, like brushing your teeth.
Small changes are like notes in a morning melody. You don't need everything at once. But even one detail can change the rhythm.

What is my morning silent about?
It is silent about hope.
It is silent about the fact that everything is still possible otherwise. That you weren't late, didn't miss out, didn't lose.
It's silent, but the look in the mirror is suddenly softer.
Be careful with your hands.
Movement is slower.

I increasingly think that morning is an act of trust. To myself. Back to life. Because every time you open your eyes, you say: I'm ready to try again. How's your morning going?