THE MORNING LIGHT INITIATION

Returning to the Body Before the World Begins
by Saba Safari

There is a point in the morning
where the body wakes up before the self does.
Before identity reloads.
Before memory arrives with its familiar weight.

This is where my day actually begins.

Not in the sunlight
but in the nervous system that survived another night.

I don’t wake up “fresh.”
I wake up true.

The first sensation is rarely comfort.
It’s the echo of whatever the night held:
the old fears, the survival codes, the heaviness I don’t name.

And then the light arrives.

Not softly.
Not like a blessing.
More like an interruption.

A stripe of sun across my face,
and suddenly the truth becomes visible again:

the body wants honesty
more than it wants optimism.

So I stay with it.

Not to fix anything,
not to produce calm,
not to “manifest,”
but to let the body speak before the world speaks back.

This is my morning ritual
a practice of witnessing instead of performing.

I let the animal part of me return first:
the breath, the micro_shakes under the skin,
the tight places asking not for solutions but for presence.

This moment_ raw, unpolished, un-glamorous __
is the real gate of my day.

From here, I can choose who enters my hours.
From here, I step out of survival mode
and into something closer to clarity.

Not perfection.
Clarity.

Because clarity is the only thing the nervous system trusts.

The world will make its demands soon enough.
But before it happens,
I return to the only home I have ever had:
this body, in this light, in this exact truth.

The morning doesn’t begin when I open my eyes.
It begins the moment I decide to tell myself the truth.

This is the ritual.
This is the initiation.
This is how I enter my life _
not as yesterday’s version of me,
but as the one who survived the night
and is willing to begin again.

— Saba Safari