Composing your day

Artist Ray Gross caught up with me after years not being in touch. One morning — still in bed — he had the thought to connect with me. He’s learned to follow up on his intuitive sparks. So here we were talking today.

We learned we’ve both been through spiritually cathartic moments that changed the trajectory of our lives.

We also talked creative engagement — doing the thing and letting go of the result. The way my attorney brother will write down TWBD at trial as he awaits the judgment. Thy Will Be Done.

Ray talked about letting go and letting God. His girlfriend speaks Eckhart Tolle . . . she speaks of coming back to the now.

What struck me most, though, was this. He was the third artist I’d spoken to recently who lies in bed for awhile upon waking, composing his day with his new-to-the-day mind.

Each of these artists lies there assembling the elements of their day . . . till they feel it click into place, till they are compelled to rise up and dive into the work.

Composing your day. The effective do it as their day begins. The ambitious do the night before.

(And the rigid/obsessive to it the year before . . . ) (it’s all about balance) (balancing spontaneity and order) (zest and drive) (carbs and proteins) (Saturday night and Monday morning)

I’m a bounder out of bedder. Maybe bounding isn’t the right image. I’m more a slider out of bedder in the mornings. But that slide toward the toilet and then the day starts fairly quickly on the heels of coming to consciousness.

Sculptor David Langley was the first to tell me about his morning routine of dreaming the day into existence from his bed.

Then when artist David Gordon weighed in on how he manages his insane productivity starting from his morning time in bed, I paid attention. 

I’m a fan of everything that happens in bed — from exactly what you’re thinking to reading to pillow talk to sleeping to family fun to coming back later in the day and napping — so I perked up.

I’ve forced myself — if that’s the right phrase for something so lazily enticing — to lie around languidly for a few minutes. Getting a pulse on the day. Imagining how I’d like it to flow.

I’ve not been doing it long enough to speak to results. But I can tell you everything feels better. It feels better to ease into the day having pre-programmed my antic self to its enjoyment, not its stresses.

So far it’s been uncanny how well potential pitfalls in my days have smoothed into moments to relish.

For you 

Evan Griffith
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In the land of the yoga pants