The smell of cedar incense mixing with the steam from a chipped ceramic mug as the sun hits the moss on the window ledge—that is usually when I feel it. That familiar, vibrating hum. Two years ago, I woke up feeling like the volume on the entire world had been turned up from a five to an eleven, and honestly, some days it still feels like I am recalibrating my internal radio dial.
Late last October, I was sitting at my desk in Portland, staring at a blank illustration canvas while the rest of the city was still asleep. I was trying to force myself into this elaborate, two-hour 'monk-style' morning routine I’d found on a YouTube rabbit hole. I had the crystals, the expensive yoga mat, the three different meditation apps, and a stack of books on Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction. I thought that to be 'spiritual,' I had to perform a marathon of stillness before I could touch my stylus.
The problem? I’m a freelancer. By the time I finished my third guided visualization, a client would usually have sent an 'emergency' revision request that blew my peace of mind into a thousand pieces. I’d spend the rest of the day feeling guilty for not being zen enough, which is—let’s be honest—the least spiritual way to live.
The Ego-Trap of the Rigid Routine
Here is the thing I had to learn the hard way: strict morning routines can actually trap us. As artists and freelancers, we often have these high-strung ego-structures that crave control. We think if we just follow a 12-step spiritual checklist, we’ll be protected from the chaos of the freelance drought or the intensity of our own sensitivity. But that rigidity actually suppresses the intuitive, non-linear flow that is essential for an authentic awakening.
I realized that my two-hour routine was just another way of performing. I wasn’t waking up; I was just following a different set of rules. I needed something that felt like a container, not a cage. I’m not a healer or a guru—I’m just an illustrator trying to stay grounded while my nervous system learns a new language. I have zero medical training, and I am certainly not a doctor, so please check with a professional if you’re feeling overwhelmed by your own process. This is just what worked for me when the 'volume' got too loud.
Stripping Back to the Essentials
By mid-winter, I threw out the checklist. I stopped trying to be a monk and started trying to be a human who draws for a living. I looked at the math of my life. I realized that my body operates on an average human sleep cycle length of 90 minutes. If I woke up halfway through a cycle, no amount of incense was going to make me feel enlightened—I was just going to be tired and cranky.
I decided to focus on two things: three pages of longhand writing and five minutes of sitting still. That’s it. I use a standard notebook with A5 paper dimensions—148 x 210 millimeters—because it’s small enough to not feel intimidating but large enough to catch the clutter in my brain.
This practice is heavily inspired by Morning Pages, a core tool for creatives. I don’t write about 'light and love.' I write about my fear of my latest invoice not being paid, the weird dream I had about a giant squirrel, and the fact that I’m annoyed with my neighbor’s leaf blower. It’s a brain dump. It clears the static so I can actually hear my intuition later in the day.
The Five-Minute Anchor
After writing, I sit. I don’t use an app anymore. I just sit on a cushion and notice the weight of my body. There is this sudden, sharp cooling sensation in my chest that happens when I finally put my phone in the kitchen drawer to start my meditation. It’s like my soul exhales because it knows it isn’t about to be bombarded by emails for at least a few minutes.
If you struggle with the 'sitting still' part, you aren't alone. I used to think I was failing because my mind wouldn't shut up. I actually wrote a bit about practical meditation for beginners who feel like they cannot sit still because it’s such a common hurdle. The goal isn't a blank mind; it's just noticing that you have a mind at all.
The 90-Minute Creative Block
The real 'spiritual' turning point for me didn't happen on a meditation cushion. It happened at my laptop. After about four months of this new, stripped-back routine, I made a rule: no email, no Slack, and no social media until my first 90-minute creative block is finished.
This is where the concept of 'Flow' comes in. It’s that state of deep immersion that psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi talked about. As a freelancer, my work *is* my practice. When I’m illustrating, I’m participating in the creation of something. If I open my inbox at 8:00 AM, I am letting other people's priorities dictate my energy. By waiting, I’m honoring the sensitivity that came with my awakening.
I also had to get real about my caffeine. I love coffee, but I realized the caffeine half-life is about 5 hours. If I drink a second cup too early, my 'spiritual sensitivity' just turns into 'spiritual anxiety.' I now wait until I’m at least an hour into my work before I have my first sip. It keeps the hum from becoming a buzz.
Honest Doubt and Realignment
I need to be honest about something: some mornings this doesn't work. One morning last week, I woke up, skipped the writing, checked my bank account, and spiraled for three hours because a project got pushed back. I felt like a total fraud. How can I talk about 'awakening' when I’m still losing my cool over a delayed check?
But that’s the practice. It isn't about being perfect; it’s about having a container to return to. I’ve realized that I used to be a 'spiritual junkie,' always looking for the next big shift or the next 'high.' I eventually realized why I stopped chasing the spiritual high and started paying attention to the mundane reality of my life instead. The awakening isn't in the sound bath; it's in how I handle the emergency revision request.
If you're a sensitive creative, you might find that you need more grounding than the average person. I’ve found that grounding techniques for sensitive creatives are essential for making sure I don't float away into the 'ether' when the freelance stress gets high.
A Routine That Breathes
My routine now looks like this:
- Wake up (ideally at the end of a sleep cycle).
- Three pages of A5 longhand writing (the brain dump).
- Five minutes of sitting (the anchor).
- 90 minutes of focused creative work (the flow).
- Then, and only then, the inbox.
It’s simple. It’s grounded. It doesn't require me to buy anything new or act like someone I’m not. It provides a container for the sensitivity of an awakening without sacrificing the hustle required to pay my rent in Portland. It allows me to be an artist who is awake, rather than a spiritual person who is trying to be an artist.
We don't need more rigid structures. We need more space to breathe. If your routine feels like a chore, it’s probably just your ego trying to 'win' at spirituality. Let it go. Sit for five minutes, draw something weird, and remember that you’re doing just fine, even if the volume is still a little high today.