I used to be the type of person who was offended at any notion that I should rise before 10:00 a.m. From ages 11 to 25, I stayed in bed most days until about 11:00 a.m., then stumbled around in my pajamas until I decided it was finally time to do something with the day. Often, by the time I finally made it out the door, I found that the day had long since passed.

This woman who used to shuffle through life has long since been transformed. When I traded my late nights for day jobs, I found something quite fascinating: I actually enjoyed the mornings. When I began setting my alarm to make it to 6:00 a.m. yoga asana classes, I knew that something had shifted in me that would never go back.

There is a different kind of morning waiting for you, more than a caffeinated rush to get out the door. This morning is delicious, slow, and nourishing. And it tastes like porridge.

Impossible, you think. You’re busy. You have children who need tending. Breakfast (if it happens at all) is cold cereal or a frozen bagel. But before you believe what you’re saying, I’ll ask: Is that the way you want your life to be?

I worry that she will hate me one day. That she will take personally my look of exhaustion when she dumps a bucket of bathwater on the bathroom floor, or the way I am a little rough with a wet rag cleaning sweet potato from her ear at dinner.