The early bird 40% off offer for The Artist’s Way Circle: A 12-Week Creative Journey closes at midnight tonight. In this powerful small-group experience, we will work through Julia Cameron’s classic book together, sharing insights, deepening our practice, and building a creative community that makes the journey feel less solitary and more alive.
For me, mornings have become less about rushing into productivity and more about creating a small pocket of time that feels set apart, a threshold into the day. This is, after all, what Julia Cameron invites us to do in The Artist’s Way: show up to the blank page before we show up to anyone else.
A ritual isn’t a routine; it is a way of marking time as meaningful. When I light a candle before writing, or make my coffee slowly in my V60 instead of rushing, I am reminding myself that this time is not just another item to cross off a list, it is where my life begins for the day. Mircea Eliade, in The Sacred and the Profane, writes about ritual as a way of stepping into ‘sacred time’, a space where the ordinary becomes charged with significance. For me, this might mean lighting a special candle that reminds me of that changing of the seasons going on at the moment, or pausing for a moment on the balcony to notice the light on the plants before I open my laptop. These small gestures are a way of crossing the threshold deliberately, rather than being dragged into the day half-awake.
Groundedness begins in the body. No amount of list-making and project management will make a difference if I wake up already scattered and tense. The first thing I try to do now is move. I have been trying to get into running again, which I alternate with indoor rowing (my preferred cardio of choice). And after years of not making progress or any form of commitment to resistance machines at the gym, I’ve taken up strength training with two simple dumbbells, which has been an absolutely fantastic development in my fitness journey–the trainers on FIIT have revolutionised my entire outlook on dumbbells. This comes alongside my yoga practice, which has been with me for nearly 25 years. The point is less about physical fitness (although, as I get older, I am becoming increasingly aware of the need to build lasting wellness) and more about arriving in my body. As Bessel van der Kolk reminds us in The Body Keeps the Score, our sense of safety and clarity begins somatically, not intellectually. If I can bring my nervous system into a calmer, more coherent state first thing, the rest of the day feels less like a battle.
Creativity thrives in spaciousness, not in haste. This is where Morning Pages come in—Julia Cameron’s influential practice of writing three longhand pages first thing in the morning. They are not intended to be polished or even interesting; they are more like clearing mental static, a way to compost the thoughts that would otherwise clutter the mind all day. I find that pairing them with something tactile—a favourite notebook, a good pen—enhances the ritual. (In The Artist’s Way Circle, we’ll not only practice Morning Pages but also discuss what they unlock: the surprising insights that surface when we permit ourselves to be imperfectly present.)
Not every ritual has to be still. A ten-minute stroll before sitting down to write can be as clarifying as a meditation cushion. The Go Jauntly app has been such a fantastic presence for me. Thich Nhat Hanh speaks beautifully about walking meditation as a way to arrive in the present moment, and I find that even putting on a playlist and tidying the kitchen can create that same bridging effect between sleep and wakefulness. The point is to let the mind settle before reaching for the phone, before taking on the noise of the world.
During my sabbatical, I’ve been focusing on testing and adjusting my daily habits so that when I return to a busy routine of teaching and administration in the new year, I will have a clear understanding of what best supports my growth and development. Protecting the first hour of the day is, I’ve come to see, an act of self-respect. Seneca reminds us that we are often more careful with money than with time, though time is the one thing we can never get back. I’ve started following a ‘no-scroll rule’ in the first hour of the day, and replaced it with going straight to the gym.
The key is not to design the perfect morning but to make a start, consistently. There have been mornings where the ritual falls apart—when I oversleep, or skip the gym entirely—but I’m learning that a ritual that only works on perfect days isn’t really a ritual at all. The point is to keep coming back. James Clear’s Atomic Habits puts it simply: habits compound over time. A short, wobbly practice is better than a grand plan you never do.
This time of year feels like an invitation to recommit. I’ve always felt that September carries more of a ‘new year’ energy than January—it must be the academic calendar still in my bones. This month, I’m choosing to double down on the things that anchor me: lighting a candle before email, a few minutes of breathing exercises, and breakfast that feels nourishing rather than hasty. I’d love for you to consider what this season might invite for you.
Ultimately, a grounded morning is an act of creative resistance. In a culture that would have us wake up and immediately start scrolling, choosing ritual is choosing presence. So tonight, ask yourself: how do you want your mornings to feel for the next twelve weeks? And if you are ready to experiment—with ritual, with creativity, with spaciousness—I’d love for you to join us in The Artist’s Way Circle. The early-bird 40% discount closes at midnight tonight, and there are just a few spots left. Your mornings—and your creative life—might look completely different on the other side.
