For a while, I struggled to find a rhythm to connect to myself.
Should I start the day with yoga?
Gratitude?
Back exercises?
Journaling?
A hot shower… or maybe a cold one?
Should I meditate? Tap? Affirm?
Should I drink lemon water or embark on an animistic journey into the forest of my subconscious?
The list grew longer than the morning.
At some point, I realized my intention had become… muddled.
Was I doing these things for my health?
To become more productive?
To feel in control?
To build a new habit?
To prove I could fit into the cold, optimized crannies of our industrial world?
Something in me whispered:
“This isn’t warmth. This is performance in softer clothing.”
So I stopped.
And I lingered in the not-knowing.
It was uncomfortable.
To do nothing. To not check anything off.
To resist the pressure to be spiritual and efficient.
But something else started to speak —
not loudly, not as a plan —
but as a soft whisper from my wild heart.
And it said:
“Begin with what warms you.”
Not what impresses.
Not what disciplines.
Not what optimizes.
What warms.
And for me, it was simple:
A good piece of music.
A poem.
A gentle moment to reflect.
Not because it made me better.
But because it made me present.
That’s how I remembered:
I don’t need a routine. I need a rhythm.
A morning song, not a morning strategy.
A ritual of returning, not improving.
And so it began. I started the morning with one poem from Rilke.
And then the reflections just started to pour in.
A Question for You, Dear Reader:
What warms your heart — truly?
Not what you’ve been told should.
Not what gives you a dopamine hit and fades.
But what actually makes your soul exhale?
Maybe it’s humming a song from childhood.
Maybe it’s stirring honey into your tea.
Maybe it’s opening a book of poems and letting one line hold you all day.
Whatever it is — start there.
Let warmth guide you back to yourself.
