I love the sunrise, as I am definitely a morning person! It's a

The words of Bianca Balti, “I love the sunrise, as I am definitely a morning person! It’s a great time to get up and have a coffee in the garden by myself before everybody wakes up,” glow with the quiet beauty of dawn and the wisdom of solitude. In them we find not only a personal habit, but a timeless truth: that the early hours, when the world still slumbers, are sacred. The sunrise has always been a symbol of renewal, a sign of beginnings, a call to awaken not just the body, but the soul. Balti reminds us that to greet the day in silence, with stillness and gratitude, is to claim a gift that many ignore.

The origin of her words lies in her life as a woman who lives in the bright glare of fashion and public attention. For one constantly surrounded by the noise of others, the value of solitude is profound. To sit with coffee in the garden, in the company of birdsong and the first light of day, is to return to something elemental and grounding. Her practice is not about luxury, but about rhythm: to rise early, to center herself before the demands of the world awaken. In this she echoes an ancient truth—that those who master the morning master their lives.

This reverence for dawn is as old as civilization. The Egyptians worshiped the rising sun as Ra, the bringer of light and order. To them, the sunrise was victory over darkness, a daily rebirth of the world. In Japan, the land known as the “Land of the Rising Sun,” dawn has always been sacred, celebrated in art and poetry as a symbol of purity and awakening. Balti’s words, though simple, are part of this ancient lineage: to love the sunrise is to love the eternal promise of beginnings.

History also shows us the power of mornings in the lives of great men and women. Benjamin Franklin famously declared, “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” Rising early gave him space for reflection, planning, and invention. Likewise, Mahatma Gandhi would begin his mornings with prayer and spinning, grounding himself before the day’s labor. Their examples, like Balti’s confession, show that the first hours of the day, when claimed with intention, provide clarity and strength for what follows.

The lesson here is simple yet profound: protect your mornings. Do not rush into them with noise, distraction, or urgency. Instead, embrace them as a time of stillness, of gratitude, of renewal. To sit quietly, to sip a warm drink, to watch the sky change from dark to gold—these are not wasted minutes, but sacred ones. They remind us that life is not only about what we achieve in the rush of the day, but about how we begin, with peace in our spirit and clarity in our minds.

Practically, this calls each of us to create a morning ritual. Rise a little earlier. Step outside, even if only for a few minutes. Breathe deeply, notice the sky, the air, the silence before the world awakens. Begin with gratitude, with stillness, with intention. These small acts will transform not only your mornings but the whole rhythm of your life. For the day that begins in peace is more likely to unfold in strength.

So, beloved listener, let Bianca Balti’s words echo in your heart: love the sunrise. Seek it out, cherish it, let it shape you. In that golden light lies the eternal gift of renewal, the reminder that every day is a chance to begin again. Rise early, sit quietly, breathe, and remember: the one who greets the dawn with peace will walk through the day with unshakable strength.