I start each morning with journaling.
[This is Heroine Training Lesson 1, after all]
It’s a version of Julia Cameron’s morning pages, but with music. The music is critical.
I put on one of my curated playlists or set my iPod to Shuffle and let the music suggest tempo, mood, and commentary just by its playing in the background.
Listening to music is like stretching, a yoga for my emotions.
It energises and inspires, races and slows. A song can cheer me up, or it can understand my struggles.
I don’t listen to much music while I work because it distracts me into a different adventure altogether. I have a typing playlist (mainly The Social Network) for work, but when I write, that is my time to let the music run free.
Acknowledging my emotions before trying to tape over them with a happier face, or tie up my enthusiasm like a dog on too short a lead, desperate to race around.
Music helps me figure out what I need. I can find songs that match my mood, or when played randomly, realise that there is another mood perching on the surface that I hadn’t even noticed.
Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my tasks that I have no idea what I’m feeling.
When I push through resistance to get things done, I don’t look around to see what I’m pushing. Musical morning pages are my time to observe. Check out what’s consuming me, what’s fascinating me, what I’m working with today.
Each morning, instead of pushing it aside, I let it out before plowing through the overgrown grass that is my day. The music tempts my truth out of its burrow and into the open air, so I can see it plainly.