The Quiet Joy of Everyday Rituals

By Bruce Shawkey

Coffee, reading, sitting by a window—why the simple becomes sacred

There’s something sacred about that first cup of coffee in the morning. The steam curls up like a lazy ghost, and I sit there in my Laz=y-Boy recliner, a little like a retired philosopher. 

I hear a 20-something moron racing his muscle car down the street, in a hurry to get nowhere because he hasn't got two nickels to rub together, but inexplicably has enough money to buy gas.

I sip slowly, savoring the flavor of the coffee. it brings back memories — breakfasts with my late wife (who was not a coffee drinker by the way), trips to Seattle and Hawaii and enjoying some really great coffee, although my own brew is certainly delicious.

And so I sit, sip, and watch. And for a moment, despite all the turmoil going on, the world feels nicely brewed.

Sufficiently caffeinneated, I can begin my day. Don't have to work any more; I am retired and can enjoy my own pursuits ... travel, reading, cooking, journaling.

Night creeps in. I slip into bed and have pleasant dreams. I don't have problems with the caffein. I occasionally drink a cup or two with dinner or even with a late-night snack.