I awoke to look at a coffee pot with the technological capability of providing me with coffee brewed and ready when the alarm clock goes off. But of course, as usual, it was not brewed and ready. The owner (me) had not prepared the pot the night before for the inevitable dawn withdrawal I was now experiencing.
I looked at the empty pot with remorseful eyes, wishing I had properly gotten ready for what I was now experiencing—a need for a life-giving fix to jumpstart my day. But there would be no cheap, fast cure this morning. I lugged the coffee out of the bottom shelf of the freezer, cleaned out the old grounds from the previous morning, dumped the previous days left-over, and began the several minute (seems like hours) ritual of grinding, filling and waiting that would eventually issue me clarity of thought and a kinder conclusion to a rough-started morning.
When just enough coffee was brewed to eek out a cup, I grasped the pot that would soon provide my morning salvation, and I began to pour--realizing that despite my desire to get it fast and easy, the equilibrium of my pot required that I pour slow enough that the pot didn’t back-dribble and pour its fresh contents on the counter instead of the cup.
For peace, meaning, hope I yearn. For the most part, things spiritual, life-giving, essential come only with preparation, silent waiting, and balance. Maybe tonight will be different.
--p lou
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