"Yes," I answer. "They must be done in the morning."
We are aiming to catch ourselves before our ego is awake, before its defenses are in place. We want to be vulnerable. If we wait to do pages late in the day, we find ourselves reviewing the day we have had and are powerless to change. Writing first thing in the morning, we lay down the track for the day that looms ahead of us. Caught off guard, we are apt to be honest. Instead of giving the generic answer-- "How do I feel? I feel fine."-- we give a more detailed and nuanced answer:
"How do I feel? I feel sad. I feel hopeful. I feel glad. I feel grumpy. I feel many things that Morning Pages allows me to record." Often, the pages urge us in directions we'd wish to avoid:
I need to tell Arthur I'm angry at him.
Morning Pages are a tough love friend. They urge us to face the unfaceable. They urge us to take action on our own behalf. Instead of the generic answer, "I feel fine about that," we learn what it is we really feel, and it is often not "fine."
Morning Pages give us a safe place to vent our hidden emotions.They urge us to be true to ourselves. They reward our honesty with forward motion. It is nearly impossible to write Morning Pages and remain stuck.