I’ve started drinking coffee in the mornings because it’s something to do. I don’t really like the taste of coffee. I like coffee mixed with other things: chocolate, sugar, cream, wasp urine, etc.
It helps though, having that coffee in my hand, sitting down at a table and unzipping my briefcase, Cat Stevens strumming in the background. It’s a good little ritual to prepare me for: reading, planning practice, thinking about writing, thinking about how I think about writing too much, and observing my surroundings.
I can do that a little better when I’m comfortable, observe that is. I can see the two girl friends talking in the corner about someone’s mother, the business man trying to get out of the office, and the young dad taking his new girlfriend and son on a morning date.
We have to see those things I think. And not just see them, but engage with them. Not always, but at some point. Whether we have a coffee in our hands or not.
I don’t really like that engaging part. It’s uncomfortable to me. It’s scary.
It’s just so important though. At some point. When we do.