In the Quiet of Morning: Moments That Calm My Heart
Introduction
This morning, the wind whispered with a certain sharpness, curling through the trees and tugging at scarves and sleeves. The sky above Saint-Cast-le-Guildo was pale and moody, with clouds brushing softly against the blue. Despite the chill, the beach was alive, families wandered along the shore, children launched vibrant kites into the gusty sky, and silhouettes danced across the sea: Paragliding floating down like dandelion seeds, sails fluttering from distant boats, and the bright curves of parachutes catching the wind.
I stood for a while, watching it all unfolds, the energy, the movement, the joy. And yet, within me, there was a quiet. A kind of stillness I’ve come to treasure each morning.
Little Things That Ground Me
As the seasons shift, I’ve found that how I begin my day matters more than ever. The noise of the world comes quickly notifications, news, expectations and so I’ve made it a point to start with slowness.
Most mornings begin with a warm cup of tea. I’ve been reaching for something floral lately, chamomile or lavender, something soft enough to sip while the world is still waking up. Sometimes, I’ll step outside and breathe in the coastal air, letting it remind me where I am, and how lucky I am to be here.
I often write in my journal just after. Not always full pages, sometimes just a few lines. I write what I feel, what I need, or what I want to release. It’s not about being profound. It’s about being present. The act of pen to paper slows my thoughts and softens the edges of the day.
If the weather allows, I walk. Even if it’s just along the beach path or through a quiet corner of town. Movement brings clarity, and the rhythm of my footsteps helps me sort through the noise in my mind. Often, I don’t bring music. Just the sound of wind, waves, and seagulls is enough.
Why These Simple Joys Matter
These small acts tea, writing, walking, might not seem like much. But they remind me that peace doesn’t have to come in grand gestures. It can be woven into the most ordinary things. In fact, it lives there.
On days when I skip these rituals, I feel it. The rush, the clutter in my head. But when I give myself this quiet time, even just half an hour, I carry a softness with me into the rest of the day. It changes how I respond to others. It deepens my patience. It makes space for joy.
An Invitation to Slow Down
If May feels fast or heavy for you, if you're moving through change, or just trying to catch your breath, I hope this post reminds you to pause. To find your own small rituals. They don’t have to look like mine. Maybe it’s stretching in the sun, reading a few pages of a book, or simply watching the steam curl from your cup.
Whatever it is, let it be yours. Let it be enough.
