There’s something about early mornings by the sea that changes the way you notice things — the way light reflects and glimmers off the water, the subtle shifts in color, the wind creating ripples on the sea’s surface as it moves up the shoreline, rustling through the Pohutukawa trees. We try to spend our mornings there with a cup of coffee, watching as the ocean wakes up, usually moving in rhythm with us: slow, calm, deliberate, before the day fully wakes.

We’re trying to be more intentional about our mornings, enjoying them together before diving into the day. A cup of coffee (or two), a poem. For the past eight years, mornings were rarely like this: waking at 4:30 a.m., quickly dressing, rushing out the door, already caught in the rhythm of work. One of the things I missed most was the slow, intentional start to the day, the space to just be.

Intentional living isn’t about grand gestures, ticking off checklists, or grinding through a day job. For me, it’s these quiet, repeated moments: mornings spent in peace, listening to the ocean, the wind, and the birds. Presence is a practice, and the ocean is one of the most patient teachers.

The waves will keep rolling whether I’m watching or not, but this small pause in time, quiet, intentional, and still, is enough to carry me through the rest of the day. I hope others can find their own moments in the morning that feel fulfilling and grounding, whatever they may be.

Chasing the dawn