I’ve read the advice.
Set your alarm for 5:30.
Light a candle.
Meditate.
Write in your journal.
Drink hot lemon water.
Stretch, breathe, reflect.

And sure, that sounds lovely. Holy, even.
But here’s what actually happens in my house:

Someone wakes up before I do.
They need a snack. They’re too cold.
Or they’re just standing two inches from my face, but still somehow screaming, “MOM!” until I open my eyes.
And just like that, the morning has begun. No soft light. No stretch. No slow moment of stillness.

But I still crave softness.
So I’ve stopped looking for a whole hour. I’ve started hunting for ten minutes.

Sometimes it’s ten minutes after the school drop-off.
Sometimes it’s ten minutes in the bathroom with the door locked and one AirPod in.
Sometimes it’s five deep breaths in the kitchen before the kettle clicks.

And sometimes? It’s just moments, scattered and small:

• The soft whir of my Nespresso. Fancy coffee at home. I walk around with the mug like it’s surgically attached to my hand. Each sip secretly transporting me somewhere else while I make lunches, brush hair, and tie shoes.
• A swipe of hair serum that smells amazing and makes my curls feel smooth, moisturized, and like I might have it together.
• My moisturizer. Thick and creamy going on, light and undetectable once it sinks in. A tiny act of care that reminds me I still belong to myself.

This is what soft mornings look like right now.
Not perfectly timed. Not always quiet.
But intentional. Chosen.
Small wins in stolen minutes.

If you’re in a season where soft mornings feel out of reach, I see you.
Take five. Take three. Take one.
Let it be enough.

This week’s soft-morning anchors:
→ My Nespresso machine
→ This hair serum
→ The moisturizer that makes me feel expensive for 11 seconds

Signed,
the soulful aestheticist