Whispers of Dawn: Morning Wisdom from the Sisters of the Hills
The Sacred Silence of Beginnings
In the ancient hills, where the wind carries stories and the earth remembers footsteps, the women—mothers, daughters, sisters—hold a quiet truth. Their mornings are not rushed awakenings, but gentle rituals stitched with care and meaning. These women have long understood that dawn is not just a time, but a space—ripe with potential, vulnerability, and grace.
They speak in murmurs that carry generations. And among their whispered wisdom are five gentle reminders—acts we must never do in the morning. Each one, a poetic directive to honor the day, the self, and the unseen threads that bind us to both.
1. Never Leave Home on an Empty Stomach
“Khali pet ghara bahira janu hudaina,” they say. Never walk out hungry. Hunger in the body invites fatigue, illness, and a sense of depletion that shadows even the brightest sunlight. These women teach that the first nourishment we take is not just food—it’s a promise to our body. A vow to sustain ourselves before we offer anything to the world.
This teaching reminds us that care begins within. Before we greet the rush of day, we must nurture our roots, quietly, consistently, like sipping warm tea before the sky fully opens.
2. Do Not Speak Bitter Words First
The first words of our morning carry a kind of spell. They caution against bitterness as the first utterance. A sharp tongue before breakfast, they say, can unravel even the gentlest day. Why risk laying thorns where flowers could bloom?
Instead, they invite us to pause. To offer a smile, a song, or silence. Let the voice rise like incense—intentional, sacred, and kind.
3. Never Leave the Courtyard Dirty
Before the sun climbs high, brooms are already sweeping the courtyards. Not out of duty, but devotion. They believe an unclean space invites unrest, both physical and spiritual. Cleanliness here is not a chore; it’s a morning prayer, a way to greet the ancestors, the gods, the self.
When we tidy our spaces, we also clear the stagnant energy that clings to corners—making room for the day’s possibilities to step in, unburdened.
4. Refrain from Quarreling at Daybreak
These women speak with softness but firmness: “Bihana jhagada nagara“—do not argue in the morning. To awaken and clash is to plant discord in still, fertile soil. Such seeds, once scattered, bloom as tension that lasts all day.
This teaching is especially vital in our world of endless alerts and frayed nerves. Begin the day not in battle, but in breath. Choose to listen, to hold silence, or to walk away. There is time enough for discussion—but let it not taint the dawn.
5. Don’t Waste the Golden Hour in Idle Talk
Finally, they urge us not to squander the morning in gossip or idle chatter. “Mehnatko bela ho,” they remind. This is the golden hour—the time to build, create, sow. Talk that drains instead of enriches is like frost on new blossoms.
Therefore, wake not just with eyes but with purpose. Channel your energy into intention. Save conversations for later, when your hands and heart have already met the work of the day.
Echoes Across Oceans
Though spoken in Nepali, these teachings resonate across continents. In a world where morning often means rushing, these women remind us to slow down and remember. Their lessons aren’t relics of an old world—they’re tools for survival, for healing, for becoming whole again.
So tomorrow morning, let’s listen. Let’s clean a little space, eat something warm, speak with love, and enter the day with reverence. For each morning, like those mountain courtyards, is a holy place—waiting for us to step gently into its light.
