When I pulled back the blinds, I realised it would be one of those lazy, idle days — much like the struggle of a snail crossing the lawn. It looks only a few centimetres ahead, groping through darkness, only to discover at day’s end that it had wandered off course.

Most days are like this, even the ones that aren’t lazy. The saying that early risers go far? Not always true. To really get far, you need more than just morning discipline.

If I hadn’t lived in England for three years, and didn’t remember the mix of sunny rainy days and rainy sunny days, perhaps I wouldn’t now understand how much my willingness to invest in a day has diminished.

A few years ago, I would’ve called it the sad disillusionment of maturity. Today, I call it balance.

Even though that word hints at something positive, this shift in perspective carries with it many unspoken nuances. It inevitably leads to the question: What have I gained, and what have I lost?

Euphoria is merely an illusion, like our snail who, looking left and right, says to itself:
“Surely I’m on the right path; that long blade of grass was here last time too. Let me hurry a bit, and I’ll arrive even faster. But I should also enjoy the journey — today, the grass seems greener than ever.”

• The illusion that it can place itself in time and space, confirmed by identifying a random blade of grass.
• The illusion that it can actually hurry.

The snail lives under the illusion that its senses and capabilities allow it to control the situation. And this illusion gives rise to another: that the grass is greener. Just as when you’re in love, the sun shines brighter, the hum of nature sounds more melodic, and flowers smell more fragrant.

Once the feeling passes, everything feels flat and colourless. But, in reality, it was always the same. I’m not saying reality is devoid of subjectivity, but even if I’ve never seen it fully, I live with the belief that it reveals itself in silence.

The bigger picture helps you avoid overly congratulating or criticising yourself for anything you are or do — most of your and others’ decisions are circumstantial. The small steps let you live in the reality of the present microcosm, and to constantly have the courage to modify it.

Morning.
A beautiful moment. Difficult, but important.

Morning is for dreaming of the hand of a stranger who will always be by your side. It’s for anticipating love’s exuberance, for seeing the world from the top of a mountain where everything becomes clear, where the horizon stretches infinitely.

Late morning, much like late afternoon, is the hardest. These are the moments of transition. In the late morning, you decide who you are with, who you are becoming.

Sometimes, late morning feels like a betrayal. You betray the sky that’s been your friend for so long, simply because you have to take your eyes off it. But the sky doesn’t know that to build upwards, you must first look down, know the mud at your feet, and begin constructing.

Late Morning Reverie: A Reflection on Mornings, Balance, and Life’s Illusions was originally published in Age of Empathy on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In the Company of Questions was originally published in Flashes of Fiction on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.