6am in Bondi Beach. The waves weren't great. The weather wasn't great either. But the beach was almost empty, and something told me to grab my board and go.
I caught a few small waves, nothing special. Then I just sat there, waiting.
That's when it started raining.
The sun was coming through the clouds at the same time. Big raindrops, really big ones. I could see each one hit the surface of the water around me.
Water underneath me. Water falling from above. The sound and the vibration of the water hitting the surface all around me was intense.
The ocean surface looked like it was alive. Small waves rippling, rain creating tiny explosions everywhere, and the sun cutting through it all.
I started smiling. Then laughing. Then, out of nowhere, I had tears in my eyes.
I was alone in the water, laughing and crying at the same time, looking completely ridiculous. And I didn't care. Something cracked open in me.
That was 10 years ago. I still think about it all the time.
What I took from that morning
None of it was planned.
I didn't wake up thinking "today I'll have a life-changing moment." I just showed up. For myself. Before the world could get to me.
The waves were bad. I went anyway. The weather was bad. I went anyway. Something felt right, so I followed it.
That's the thing about these moments. You can't plan them. You can only make space for them to happen. And they usually happen when you show up for yourself first, before everything else.
Why mornings matter to me now
I'm protective of my mornings. Almost irrationally so.
Not because I read some productivity book. Because of that morning in Bondi. Because I know what's possible when I show up for myself before I show up for anyone else.
The ritual changes. The time changes. The location changes. But the principle stays: make space for yourself first. The rest follows.
Show up for yourself, and life shows up for you.