I must govern the clock, not be governed by it. — Golda Meir, former Prime Minister of Israel (1969-1974)
If you were not to set an alarm clock, would you sleep past it? If the answer is yes, then there is clearly more sleep that is needed. — Dr. Matthew Walker, neuroscientist
My father was a shaman. He told me that time doesn’t exist. He didn’t use a clock. He didn’t know when my birthday was. — Alessandro Michele, Italian fashion designer
Some people have that innate ability to tell themselves what time they would like to rise the next morning. When Sam plans a fishing trip, he does not set an alarm. Depending on where he’s going to fish the next morning, he may decide to rise at four in the morning. If he is going to a local fishing spot, he may decide to wake at six. He does all this planning in his head. The next morning his internal clock will wake him.
Celestine Sibley, the columnist I mentioned last week, wrote about her family who inherited the “wake-up mechanism.” She said her mother called it “setting your mind.” Celestine shared:
“Mother found that determining at bedtime that we would awaken at four, or six, or seven a.m. that we could pull it off. Of course, we might wake up prematurely a few times, checking the clock anxiously, but mostly it works. You set your mind and there you are, awake.
What’s the matter with alarm clocks? Ask the young. What’s the matter with a good clock radio? Or leaving the television set on all night to start its clatter while you are supine and defenseless?
I’ll tell you what’s wrong with all these artificial aids to beginning the day: They are noisy. If there’s any special thing of value about the early morning, it’s quiet. Set your mind and it silently nudges you to wakefulness. The room is dark and maybe the windows, too, depending upon the hour you choose, and you can lie there a moment reviewing dreams, sorting out your problems, anticipating the day.
Of course, the best part of it is padding through the dark, silent house and turning on the coffee. It helps if you have set it up the night before so all you have to do is plug it in. But even if you didn’t “set” the coffee when you set your mind, it’s not a bad chore, drawing fresh water, measuring out the fragrant grounds.
The Bardwell home is not all that different. Coffee is also prepared the night before. When anticipating a fishing day, the thermos, the Yeti cup, a bag of snacks, and a goodbye note lines up beside the coffee pot.
While I am sleeping, Sam fills his thermos and prepares the coffee maker again for my awakening. The coffee maker has a timer but it’s no trouble to press the “bold” button and start the coffee making. By that time the sun is up and the cat, Wilhelmina, is pacing to go outside. I step outside with her, feel the breezes, and gaze over the Prairie morning; our day begins.
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].
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