How we begin our days shapes the energy we bring into our work. For me, living and creating in the Pacific Northwest, mornings are more than just a routine—they’re a ritual. These small, mindful practices ease me into the day, ground me in gratitude, and set the tone for meaningful, creative work in the studio.
Coffee and moments of stillness
There’s something deeply comforting about the quiet ritual of making a morning drink. For me, it’s a small ceremony that signals the start of a new day—a pause before the creative momentum builds. The process is slow and intentional, inviting me to be fully present.
I often find myself gravitating toward coffee, drawn to the familiar warmth and earthy aroma that fills my kitchen. There’s a certain pleasure in the sensations—the sound of beans grinding, the hiss of boiling water, the steam rising from the mug. Sometimes, I’ll wrap my hands around my favourite ceramic cup, hand-thrown by a local potter, and let the warmth seep into my palms.
These moments are not just about the drink; they’re about creating space. I usually sit by the window, watching the soft morning light filter through the trees. On misty Pacific Northwest mornings, the world feels hushed, as if nature itself is still waking up. I sip slowly, breathing in the calm. This stillness is essential—it offers a moment of gratitude, a deep breath before the day begins.
Starting my mornings with this simple act helps me ground myself. It’s a reminder that creativity doesn’t always begin with a rush of inspiration; sometimes, it starts with a warm mug, a quiet room, and a few moments of peaceful reflection.
Mornings in nature
After finishing my morning drink, I often lace up my boots and step outside; sometimes, it's just a breath of fresh air in the backyard, and other times, it's a walk to shake off the long night. Living in the Pacific Northwest means towering trees, moss-covered trails, and the soothing sound of rain on leaves surround me. Getting out in the fresh air in the morning is as important a part of the creative process as picking up a brush or pencil—they clear my mind, open my senses, and gently wake up my imagination.
Some mornings, the air is thick with fog. On other days, sunlight filters through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. I love pausing to notice the details: the scent of damp earth, the delicate way a spiderweb catches morning dew, and the birds singing to wake up the day. Wildlife encounters are common—an eagle overhead watching closely or a deer moving quietly through the underbrush.
Walking in nature invites a slower pace, both physically and mentally. Ideas that felt tangled begin to unravel with each step. Sometimes, I’ll find myself humming a tune or quietly talking through a creative block as the rhythm of walking works its subtle magic. Other times, inspiration strikes unexpectedly—a colour combination from fallen leaves, the pattern of lichen on a rock, or the way mist curls along the water’s surface.
These morning walks are a reminder of how connected we are to the natural world and how deeply that connection fuels creativity. By immersing myself in the landscape, I not only recharge but also gather fragments of inspiration that often make their way into my studio work later in the day.
Entering the studio
Stepping into my studio is like crossing a threshold—from the gentle pace of the morning into a space where creativity flows freely. The studio is more than just a place of work; it’s a sanctuary, a place where ideas come to life. To honour that, I’ve developed small rituals that help me transition fully into creative mode, grounding me in the present and setting the tone for my work.
One of the first things I do is tidy up my space. Even if it’s just clearing off a corner of the table or putting away scattered brushes, this small act helps me create a sense of order—a blank slate ready to be filled. I might light a candle or incense, infusing the room with a calming scent that subtly signals it’s time to create. Sometimes, I play music—soft instrumentals on quiet mornings or something more upbeat when I need an energy boost. Other days, I embrace the silence, letting the ambient sounds of the world outside—the rain tapping on the roof, birds calling through the trees—be the soundtrack to my work.
These rituals may seem small, but they carry weight. They create a sense of sacredness in the ordinary, reminding me that creativity isn’t just about the finished piece—it’s about showing up, being present, and allowing the process to unfold. In this space, time seems to soften, and the outside world fades away. There’s just me, the materials, and the quiet thrill of possibility.
Final thoughts
Morning rituals are more than just routines—they are invitations to slow down, ground yourself, and nurture the creativity that blooms throughout the day. For me, the simple act of brewing coffee provides a moment of stillness, morning walks in the Pacific Northwest connect me to the rhythms of nature, and entering my studio with intention transforms the space into a sanctuary for creativity.
These rituals aren’t about productivity or perfection; they’re about creating a gentle transition from rest to work, allowing inspiration to arise naturally. By approaching each morning with mindfulness and care, I find that my creative practice feels more sustainable, joyful, and deeply fulfilling.
If you’re looking to infuse your own days with creative energy, I encourage you to explore small rituals that resonate with you—whether it’s savouring your morning drink, taking a quiet walk, or simply pausing to breathe before beginning your work.