Some mornings (always dead early), I wake full of purpose. Others, I wake to a tangle of ideas and half-started tasks, each one tearing at my mind: Novella edits. AI-generated storyboards. Relief prints waiting to be carved. Ancient trees surveyed I’ve yet to upload. A garden gone rogue. Coaching sessions coming up. Food to prepare (I’m a Zoe Health App fiend). A notebook whispering start me. And the doppelgänger in my head voice says—do all of it, none of it, or something else entirely.
But which? I turn to K-AI and hand over these choices to direct my energies to AI, providing me with a way to begin gently, and move through the day with clarity and contentment. Especially with an ADHD brain, routine can’t be rigid. It needs rhythm, variation, and enough choice to feel alive and in control.
Here it is. You’re welcome to borrow it, adapt it, or just use it to breathe.
- Easy Does It
iPhone off since last night. I reach instead for daylight, for coffee, fresh air and birdsong.
Then I write for five minutes—stream of thought, no aim. Just asking:
“What kind of day do I need?”
A quiet one? A busy one? One with hands in soil or ink?
I may hook into a dream. Wherever that takes me creativity ensues.
2. Shuffle the Deck
I have a choice of three – W,V,M. Letters tattooed to three fingers of my left hand.
‘W’ for writing (maybe Watersprites edits or a fresh scene in Form Photo) ‘V’ for visual play (AI character, Veo clip, or a print idea expanded – the Lewes Pomegranate Tree is developing nicely. ‘M’ for movement (gardening, walking, swimming).
No pressure. Just options. Like choosing classes in a school day built for the soul. I can always go back to sleep. I have a sharp dream world.
3. Choose the Golden Task
Here’s the moment of clarity.
“Which one of these, if I did it today, would make me feel proud or peaceful by bedtime?”
That’s the Golden Task. The others can wait.
And if I can’t decide, I let randomness help me. A coin flip. A die roll. The subconscious always has a preference—this just coaxes it out. Then begin. A minute is enough to cause a brain slip.
4. Set the Scene
I open a notebook and fountain pen; or turn to a printout clutches to a board to edit. I put on music that suits the task, collections gathered in Amazon Music for the purpose over weeks —or the quiet if writing, just the rhythmic scratching of a bib on paper, cinematic if visualising.
If I’m settle after minute in then set a timer: 30 minutes. One “module,” one school period. That’s all it needs to be.
5. Small Win, Big Exhale
When the sand runs dry I do one of the following:
Step barefoot into the garden. Eat something warm (mushroom omlette or scrambled egg with salmon or Smokey beans with Bulgar wheat). Message someone I care about. Lie flat on the floor and look at the ceiling like a child.
Sometimes that one module is the day’s work. Sometimes it’s just the start. Either way, I’ve done more than nothing.
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