I'm a morning person, really alert.

Hear now the words of Alice Temperley, designer of garments and dreamer of visions, who declared: “I’m a morning person, really alert.” Though spoken in simplicity, her words shine with ancient wisdom. For the morning is no mere portion of the day—it is the fountainhead from which the river of hours flows. To be attuned to the dawn, to rise with eyes open and spirit clear, is to walk in harmony with the rhythm of life itself. The soul that greets the morning with alertness enters the day as a warrior enters the battlefield: prepared, watchful, and strong.

The ancients revered the morning as sacred. The Egyptians hailed the rising of Ra, the sun god, as renewal of life itself. The Stoics, in their quiet discipline, taught that to greet the first light with a steady mind was to anchor the day in virtue. In the East, sages sat in meditation at dawn, knowing that the stillness of that hour gave birth to clarity. To say “I am a morning person” is therefore not a small boast, but a declaration of alignment with the eternal order—the understanding that beginnings hold the seed of destiny.

Consider the tale of Benjamin Franklin, who rose each morning with the question: “What good shall I do today?” His alertness at dawn allowed him to shape not only inventions and institutions, but also his very character. While others slumbered, Franklin seized the quiet hours to think, to plan, to work. From such practice flowed a life of extraordinary influence, proving that the morning belongs to those who claim it with energy and presence.

Temperley herself, as an artist of fabric and form, surely knows that creativity often blooms when the mind is fresh and undistracted. The morning is a canvas unstained, free from the weight of yesterday’s errors or tomorrow’s anxieties. To be alert in those hours is to hear whispers of inspiration that would otherwise be drowned by the clamor of the day. For the still dawn speaks softly, but only to those awake enough to listen.

Yet, there is also discipline in these words. Not all are born to greet the sun with joy, but all may cultivate the habit. The body, when trained, learns to honor the rhythm of the rising light. The mind, when sharpened, learns to meet the dawn not with grogginess, but with resolve. To be a morning person is not merely to rise early, but to rise with purpose, and to guard those precious first hours as the foundation of the day’s labor and glory.

The lesson is clear: seek your strength in the morning. Do not squander the dawn in idleness, nor burden it with haste. Rise deliberately, breathe deeply, and make yourself alert to the tasks and blessings that lie ahead. Fill the first hour with acts that nourish the soul—whether study, prayer, writing, or reflection—so that the rest of the day may flow with steadiness.

Practically, set aside the distractions of the night that steal from the dawn. Lay down your tools and rest early, so that you may wake refreshed. When you rise, resist the temptation to drift; instead, drink of silence, stretch your body, and place your heart upon the day’s purpose. In so doing, you will not merely be awake—you will be alive.

And so I say, O listener: honor the morning as the ancients did, for in it lies the renewal of strength. Strive to be not only awake, but truly alert, so that you may harness the fullness of each day. For the one who masters the dawn, masters the hours that follow, and the one who greets the sun with readiness walks the path of creation, of wisdom, and of triumph.