English Muffins

I melt into the cooking of things I like in the mornings. I stand upon my bit of earth, coffee in hand, and begin my day with a thing that is mine.

Isn’t that what the earth wants us to do? Feed ourselves and nurture ourselves so we can be atop it for a while. It does not wish to consume us down into its surface.

These moments in the morning are when I am gentle. It is a time I am unfiltered. It is a time that I am almost always alone.

I wake with hesitation and move out of bed with the promise of breakfast, be it joyful or not.

This morning I claimed my bit of earth with breakfast. I will be here this day so I eat. If I can’t think of a healthy option I will usually skip breakfast, rather than feel ashamed of it. But this morning, I ate without shame. I ate my English muffin smeared with peanut butter, Skip peanut butter to be specific.

I started this day with a proclamation of I am here and doing the things. My life is dotted with moments of inaction because I do not act when I am not certain the action is the correct one. Like, I do not eat breakfast unless I am sure it is the thing that will get me a toned belly.

Screw thinking of the toned belly at 7 am. My sole purpose on this earth is action. It is not becoming smaller or more pleasurable to the eye. It is acting in a way where I can feel good about this one beautiful opportunity.

It felt pretty good eating that English muffin. I would dare say that it even felt joyful. I did not start my day with criticism. I started my day with an English muffin that was just enough to spur me into action.

Gagging over a spinach smoothie may fuel my body but it makes me sad.

I used to drink them every single morning. I would wake up and blend the flaxseed and spinach mixture and drink down the idea that to be good enough I had to be miserable.

I am good enough to wake up and claim my bit of earth in the way I choose and that just maybe by eating a raisin and cinnamon English muffin smeared with peanut butter that is marketed for children.