It was 3:38 a.m. and my bed wasn’t done with me yet. (For those of us in the 4 a.m. club we understand the dilemma—a few more minutes of sleep, or spring out of bed and begin bending time to our will.)
Suddenly my bed released its prisoner; released me to write, to think--to drip my imagination of its talents and attempt to make the world better a better place.
Perhaps it realized a good morning meant it would see me again at 10 a.m. for a “knowledge nap” or a “thinking sleep.”
Perhaps because it realized 4 a.m. is a friend.
There’s a funny thing about 4 a.m.; it offers gifts to all who meet it. It offers solitude. It offers focus. It offers no limits.
24 hours in the 365’s of the year, yet many skip 4 a.m. ‘s friendliness, it’s treasures, it’s gifts.
Capture it and much is available to us. Let it escape and we become ordinary. Mortal. Like everybody else.
4 a.m. wants more for you.
It wants to show you how to bend time to YOUR will. It wants to show you where profits hide, where money dwells, where productivity plays.
It wants you to be extraordinary.
And it wants to be your friend.
But first you have to meet it before the warmth of the sun, before the call of the day, before the pitter-patter of little feet, before the kiss gooday.
It longs for the homeofficepreneur who’s tickling a talent, creating a life. It calls to the reluctant entrepreneurs who have found the courage to quit a job to work a life.
“Meet me, and I will show you my gift’s,” it whispers as if summoning a long lost love.
4 a.m. realizes it’s not for everyone—but for ANYONE who has the will.
4 a.m. is your friend.