Weaning myself away from coffee

 

A jumbo coffee morning
Simple indulgence
Rich dark smooth juice of the gods

 

I must confess, I love coffee. Its rich deep aroma sends me to another place, soothing and comforting, coffee sees me through projects and long busy days. Seems there are quite a few lately. However, I am not drinking as much as last year.

I made it a habit then to stop at a coffee house (Starbucks and other places, one right down the street from me) at least 2-3 times a week, then there were the weekends. Quite a hype, “drink coffee and relax”???

Here’s what actually happened; I walked into the coffee house, ordered a cup, sat down and read a book, no interaction, I spoke to the people who served the coffee with the exception of asking, “is this seat taken?” So where’s the sociability in that?

This year after cutting my coffee consumption in half, I surprisingly discovered that it isn’t so hard to drive by the coffee house everyday without stopping. I’m paying more attention to water now, which is supposed to be good for my body which is 98% water and all.

Once in a while I indulge and drink a cup, the smell still entices me and I do love coffee ice cream. You know, I just drew a parallel, I’m not shaking as much as I was last year. Hum…

Tell me about your coffee experiences. 

Take care,
Cynthia

War

Toss them out like trash
Forgotten, beautiful boys
Murdering divine

Seeing the movie, Taking Woodstock took me back to the ’60’s; a time of hippies, chaos, war, assasinations and riots across America.  While Nixon was sending our boys to Vietnam, others were burning their draft cards and running off to Canada. Students murdered on Kent State grounds; distinct populations concurrently existing in chaos. The world turned upside down.

Back then, longer hair was often a sign of rebellion against society’s rules, its politics. It was our way of objecting to the pervasive hypocracy all around us. We were young, bold, invincible. Because of our ideals, laws were changed, people’s lives improved. And yet our soldiers who “did the right thing”, returned home broken and scarred; their western appreciation for life had been distorted in a battle where parents wired their children and instructed them to ask the soldiers for help. Explosions, landmines, anger, pain, wrongful deaths, no wonder they returned with never-ending nightmares.

In that theater I couldn’t help but draw a parallel to today, our young boys and girls still fighting in foreign lands, sacrificing their lives, not much has changed, except men are wearing their much shorter today.

I finally understood that all we want is to be heard and understood, loved and appreciated. We fight for our piece of the earth; what we are looking for, searching for, hungering for is peace within. When we reach this place, the fighting will end.

Peace is all we need
Each moment, make love-not war
Move beyond ego

Haiku-enduring bug

Hail enduring bug
Clutching the windshield of my car
The strong shall survive.

I wrote this several years ago, but it still fits today. When my life is stressful and I don’t think I can go on, I remember driving down the road in my car one sunny day at approx. 65 mph. There was a praying mantis clutching the base of my car’s windshield with all the power its tiny feet could muster. It never blew off while I was driving, but when I returned to the car after running errands it was gone. I was impressed.

At first I thought the bug was giving me an example of endurance, hang on and it will all work out. Give me a task and I stay with it, I get the job done. Always for a good cause like the good of the company, improving peoples’ lives, saving the planet…it was worth it.

Now I see it as a testimony to what I can and cannot control. I cannot make people do what I want them to do; I cannot change the unchangeable. Because I realize that I am not in control, I have discovered that everything follows its own path, and I am delighted to see where this new path is taking me.

So the bug left me after enduring what might have been the most stressful rides of his life.

Thanks mr bug for teaching me your lesson: following my path may be scary at times, but the ride is well worth it!