Every morning I stand on my head and do a yoga workout.

"Every morning I stand on my head and do a yoga workout." Thus spoke Mick Rock, the man who captured the faces of legends through his lens, and yet here he reveals not an image of another, but the posture of his own spirit. The words may seem light, almost casual, but they conceal the wisdom of one who knew the weight of creation, the cost of art, and the frailty of flesh. To stand on one’s head each morning is no idle whim: it is a turning of the world upside down, a deliberate reversal of the ordinary, so that the mind is cleansed, the blood stirred, and the soul reborn. It is a warrior’s ritual cloaked in playfulness, a declaration that one will not be crushed by the chaos of the day, but will meet it with balance, clarity, and fierce joy.

In these words, there echoes the ancient truth that the body and the spirit are not separate but bound as twin flames. The headstand, or śīrṣāsana, was called the "king of asanas" by the yogis of old, for it quickens the blood, sharpens the senses, and summons courage. To stand inverted is to defy the earth’s pull and to remind oneself that life, too, is fleeting and must be lived with boldness. Mick Rock, who lived amidst music, excess, and the wild fire of the seventies, knew that without discipline, the flame of creativity consumes rather than illuminates. His practice was not vanity—it was survival, an anchor in the storm of fame and fragility.

Consider the tale of the Roman general Scipio Africanus. Though he was raised amidst battles and burdened with the weight of empire, he did not greet each dawn with wine or revelry. Instead, he would withdraw before his campaigns, purify his body, and call upon discipline as the first weapon of war. Just as Scipio prepared himself to face Hannibal’s might, so too Mick Rock prepared himself to face the wild demands of art, not with sword or shield, but with the stillness of yoga and the inversion of the headstand. Both knew the same truth: mastery over self precedes mastery over destiny.

To the youth who hear these words: understand that every dawn is a battlefield. If you rise in haste, if you rush into the noise of the world without centering your breath, you will be as a reed bent by the wind, swayed by every distraction, broken by every burden. But if you rise with ritual, if you claim the first moments of the day to strengthen your body and to still your mind, then you are unassailable. Even the smallest act—a stretch, a quiet breath, a prayer whispered to the rising sun—can be your headstand, your way of setting the world aright before it casts its weight upon you.

And let none say that such acts are trivial. Was it not Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who wrote in his meditations that the soul is dyed by the colors of its thoughts each morning? Was it not the monks of the desert who rose before the sun, chanting hymns, bending their bodies to the rhythm of devotion, so that the day might not conquer them? To begin each morning in inversion, whether of body or of spirit, is to seize the day by its roots.

The lesson is thus: do not drift into the day as though you were a leaf upon a stream. Rise with purpose. Seek inversion, whether through the stillness of meditation, the strength of exercise, or the discipline of a simple ritual that awakens your spirit. In a world that clamors for your attention, turning yourself upside down—even metaphorically—is the way to see more clearly, to break the spell of habit, and to discover strength where you thought there was none.

So, my children of the future, take these words to heart. Every morning, ask yourself: what will be my headstand? Will I stretch my body against its stiffness, will I breathe against the noise, will I write, pray, or walk beneath the first light of dawn? Whatever form it takes, let it be deliberate, let it be sacred. For he who begins the day by conquering himself has already triumphed over the world.

And when the day has passed, and you lay your head to rest, you will know this truth: that you did not simply endure the hours—you lived them with clarity, courage, and balance. Thus spoke Mick Rock, and thus the ancients would affirm: the man who greets the dawn with discipline is already halfway to eternity.