musings of a melancholic: zoka coffee

Showing posts with label zoka coffee. Show all posts

I've been increasingly edgy. My spirit feels anxious and distant. I miss my sister. Joel's been working late and will be gone for the weekend. It's simply been a crabby week, and despite many attempts to listen to my body and soul, I cannot seem to quell it. After a fit of sighs as we were falling asleep, Joel lovingly asked what was wrong. Hell if I know. Everything. Nothing at all.

Interestingly enough, my yoga teacher mentioned last night that this tempestuous Spring is actually quite anxiety-producing, and that many she has seen that week have complained of worry. In any given day, Seattle will vacillate between fat rain, rays of sunshine, extreme wind, and the mildest dew. In a time that we are desperate to begin shedding some of that winter baggage, we have to layer even more - for we know not what the day holds.

Today, as I eased myself awake, I found that despite this gnawing moodiness, I had much I was ever-so-happy about. As I encountered several more items of gratitude throughout the morning, I realized that each of these items had begun as a complaint. Perhaps all of what discourages us in life has a flip side, a new gift under each desperately dark stone.

Complaint:

Having to get up for work and face the toughest morning challenge - that of finding something to wear.

The flip side:

A sigh of relief that I have more time with my last pair of non-maternity jeans.

Complaint:

Suffering through the horrible coffee at Microsoft (I still don't understand how a Seattle company can serve some of the most disgusting coffee I've ever tasted).

The flip side:

Treating myself to an Americano from Zoka. Something about enduring gross coffee made this particular cup taste even sweeter. There is a lesson there - discuss.

Complaint:
Dreary-ass weather.

The flip side:
Have you ever really taken in the beauty of a cherry tree during a rain storm? Those delicate pink petals scattering about, landing on your lawn or car as precious pink kisses? It's so very romantic. As I got in my car, I saw two wonderful petals on my window and it felt like nothing short of a gift from the gods.

It's a lot easier to feel the drudgery of things than to take the time and put in the energy to flip it. That always leads me to question why humans love to feel misery.

Well, here's to hoping this very day holds small treasures somewhere hidden for you. May you find a way to uncover them, for surely they are there.

You know, there was a time wherein I spent my days in domestic success nesting and finding true contentedness without needing the external stimulation of work to feel purposeful. It was hard work, actually. Not to mention, it took me several months to find my way.

Many of you have friends and family (like I do) who stay home and make their own living. It is quite tempting to assume their lives are carefree and eternally vacation-like. Yes, they could stay in their PJs all day, eat Bon Bons, and watch Days of Our Lives, but the ones I know - they just don't. Yes, they can go shopping or to coffee on a whim, but what they don't mention is just how hard it is to give themselves the excuse to do these things when self-employed, how hard it is to leave the house. The glamour of PJs wears off after a few days, Bon Bons start making you sick, Days of Our Lives becomes a sad reflection of this mentally-lazy culture, and the financial need to making your own way results in a ridiculous amount of pressure and way more than 8-hours/day in the studio.

I took myself out for a long-overdue writing date this last week. I needed to brain dump in a very bad way. After 4 pages and one sore middle finger, I realized that I was beginning to feel desperately empty in my own home. In between the lines of going back to work, and then the fiasco of trying to get pregnant, the depression of months of infertility, and then the joyus but subsequent pregnancy wherein I could do naught but sleep and vegetate to Star Trek, I lost my practice at home-making.

Recently I began to fear this lack of self-motivation because I know there is a little lady forming inside of me who will take over my life here shortly. It is very tempting to continue to be status quo in home-making because I know she will fill me with purpose and busy-ness anew. Dears, I do not want her to be the only reason I get out bed come August. And to be honest, right now - little else but the thought of her does. I decided I needed to mentally slap myself and remember the things I used to do to bring me internal stimulation and give my day structure and meaning outside of an external job.

The Madame's Formula for Domestic Bliss:

Bring awareness to my daily rituals - tasks easy enough to check-out of such as making the morning coffee, feeding the animals, cooking dinner, building a fire, and unloading the dishwasher.
Surround yourself with music.
Go on photography walks, or at the very least, get outside for several minutes a day.
Attend to the vignettes around your house by keeping everything intentional and meaningful to you.
Spend the first light of the day in meditation, for me - with poets who inspire. Afterward, journal for several pages if possible.
Cook as much as possible. Bake as much as possible.
Adorn your house with fresh flowers.
Light candles to signify changes in tasks. I used to sit to write by lighting a candle. It helped me visually remember that I was working and it was beautiful.
Write letters as much as possible.
Do not be tempted to let chores take over the majority of the day. One task per day will suffice to keep the house generally clean for the week.
Go to brunch with friends as much as possible. Drink pink bubbles as much as possible. Hope that the brunch turns into dinner and drinks as much as possible.
Invite your friends over for dinner and a chat in front of the fire place.
No television during day-light hours and at night, only 1 or 2 shows.
Create one something per day...learn to watercolor, write a poem, bake a pie, take a photograph. Then share, share, share it.

To jump start us back to a slower, more mentally-awake life, Joel and I are having a no-media week. No TV at night. We instead linger over dinner and shop together online and read books on the couch and listen to and talk about music, and as I suspected, go to bed early.

Today, I decided it was high-time to bring out the daffodils. Even IF I had to buy them instead of grow them, even IF they are a bit wilted, even IF I won't be here to enjoy them all day, even IF they are a superfluous expense.