4-5 sips in to the morning coffee; 2 bites in to the customary breakfast granola bar with the clock reading between 4:30-5a – this is the sweet spot for me.

At this flavor of the am our 11 month old daughter is still sleeping. My wife has not yet awakened for her pre-work fitness routine. The spiders from their webs in the rafters above my writing desk even cast a couple of eyes my direction, as if to ask, “What on earth are you doing up, man??!” That’s when I know I am doing something unexpected. Different. Where the tepid willpower of my expected self, steps from its incarceration, boldly compelling ideas onto the page. The page, btw, that I can barely see. When I cannot discern between the homophones ‘insight’ or ‘incite’, but something is still being written on the page, the “feeling” of being productive was always just that.