When I first started working remotely, I thought I’d love the freedom.
No commute? Great. Casual dress code? Amazing
But by week two, my mornings looked like this:
- Wake up vaguely stressed
- Grab phone
- Scroll news, email, Slack, weather, and drift through email avalanche
- Realize I am 2 hours in and I haven’t achieved anything I wanted to do
I didn’t have a routine. I had a slow-motion digital avalanche.
So I built something better. Something small, simple, and (mostly) unbreakable.
I call it my “focus-first ritual.” And honestly? It saved my remote work rhythm.
🔁 The focus-first ritual I follow every morning
☕ No phone until coffee is made (the proper way)
The rule is simple: no messages, no apps, no news — until the coffee is in my cup.
And I’m not talking about pressing a button on a pod machine.
I make real coffee. Flat white. Medium to dark roast. Locally sourced beans.
My current go-to is the Breville Barista Impress, and yes — I’m a proud, semi-manual, avid amateur barista.
While the machine grinds, whirs, then hisses with steam, I use that time to:
- Hydrate
- Stretch
- Let my brain crank up to full speed, distraction-free
It’s become a quiet ritual that centers me before the digital world kicks in.
Five focused minutes, just me and the beans, is often the best part of my morning.
💡 Bonus tip: No screen until steam is done. The phone stays in my pocket so my first jolt of the day comes from coffee, not Outlook.
✍️ One handwritten intention
I write a single sentence in a notebook (yes, a real notebook):
“Today will be a good day if I __________.”
It might be:
- finish the presentation or brief
- follow up on an important project
- research a new topic or do some analysis on the above
This tiny ritual helps me focus on impact, not just inbox.
✉️ First things first — triage my email
By the time I log in around 5:00 a.m., most of my team in other time zones have already been online for hours.
So before I dive into any big project or task, I take time to triage my email.
I’m not reading everything thoroughly. I’m not replying to everyone. I’m scanning for what’s changed — especially if:
- My manager may have shifted my priorities overnight
- Something urgent landed while I slept
- A thread I need to weigh in on has taken a detour
And then I run each message through my favorite mental filter: the 4 Ds of email:
🗑️ Delete – Junk, noise, expired invites, anything unworthy of brain space
📥 Defer – Reference material, newsletters, reading for later (hello, “Read Later” folder)
🔁 Deflect – Reroute anything better handled by someone else
✅ Do it – If it’s obvious, quick, or unblocked, I knock it out right away
This process keeps my inbox honest, my brain focused, and my priorities aligned.
It’s also a major time saver in a distributed world — because when you’re already hours behind, you need a system that respects both urgency and attention.
⏱ Block 60 minutes of deep work
Before I open Slack or attend a single meeting, I try to block the an hour for something important but quiet — writing, planning, designing, thinking.
It’s rarely urgent. But it’s always essential. That hour is important and I treat it like any important meeting. It reminds me I own my time — not my notifications.
🌅 Why this works for remote life
In an office, structure happens to you.
You’ve got the commute, the 9 a.m. coffee line, the “walk to the next meeting” buffer.
At home, structure is your responsibility.
And that can feel overwhelming — until you ritualize the right things.
I don’t need a 27-step morning routine with matcha and breathwork (though, no judgment). I just need a few things I can do every day, in any mood, to remind me:
I’m in charge of my attention. Not my inbox.
💡 The last drop of coffee wisdom
Remote work gives us flexibility — but without structure, flexibility becomes fog.
This ritual doesn’t solve every focus problem. But it gives me momentum before my day gets hijacked.
And on the days I skip it? I feel it. So I come back.
Because sometimes the most powerful routines are the simplest ones — the ones that anchor your brain before the chaos clicks in.


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