having grown up in an irish catholic family, seeing my father kneel and cross himself as me moved in a church, watching my grandmother say her prayers long after she had lost touch with her family and surroundings i understand what faith is. but also having a natural tendency to question, research, consider and analyze, i have become quite comfortable with the post-enlightenment modernism view of the world. gone are the acceptance of myths that bound society in the classical world. rather modernism replaced myth with an acceptance of the temporal and self-directed, but promising, future that people have when they work, learn and progress without classical ties which bind them to historical answers to questions of life, purpose and morality.
when i moved here i was shocked at the level of myth which is still believed. not only believed, but accepted apparently without being questioned. added to this is a level of connection to the family which is becoming uncommon outside of rural or possibly cult-like groups in the west. mature adults in asia have told me that they would not be allowed to do things like, get divorced, have a tattoo, emigrate for work or education, or even go on a weekend away because of the way their parents would feel about it. when asked how my mother felt about me moving half way around the world, her second child to do so, she said, “well, what can you do, he is going to do what he thinks is best, no matter what we say”. i smiled when i heard that, thinking my mother respected my ability to choose my life.
but i have questioned how malaysia keeps its people believing the myths, and not questioning the word or authority of their elders for so long. some adults do have lives their parents know nothing about, or may suspect but would never ask details about for fear of being told. many more than in the west simply will not act in ways which would upset their parents. they do it out of respect; and fear. they believe their parents are entitled to make decisions for them, and to be believed when they tell them what is right and wrong. this got me thinking about where this is lost in the western world.
how do our children learn to become independent of thought? how do they learn do become open and possibly vocal about their desires, when people here stay quiet and under the influence of the parents? i was thinking about my youngest son a few weeks ago, i was reflecting on his ability to manage up in his relationships with parents. this is not only me, but his mother and other parent-like replacements that are in his life. he and his siblings have learned to be read between the lines, and have a more active interaction with the adults around them.
when is the first time that our children begin to feel the ability to manage the relationships with the adults in their lives? i have decided it is the same time that they realize the adults are lying to them about things. for western children this comes during their early youth, just after entering school, when they learn from classmates that santa does not exist… the myth is broken, and the children see the conservative conspiracy that was put in place to help them continue to believe the myth. not only are the parents found to have lied to them, but grandparents, teachers, the media … almost all adults in their life are now brought into question. there is an understanding that adults lie, the same people who have taught them that lying is bad, are now found to be those lying about the things that mean the most to them.
the fact that santa is a pseudo-religious symbol, actually a saint in some but not all western countries, is not lost on the child either. this apparent crack in the façade of religion is later reinforced a few months later when the now questioning child calls the other pseudo-religious mythical holiday symbols into question… saint valentine and then the easter-bunny are the next myths to fall to this new ability to question and accept the falsity of myth. the three pseudo-religious symbols are all debunked by the child, who is quickly enlisted in the conspiracy and told they do not want to spoil it for the younger (or is it more naïve) children.
at least within the us, the remaining holidays are largely without myth. halloween, is a time for everyone to dress up, so yes it is built on deception (or extortion) but the children are let in on the secret early on and is not upset by this. although holloween could be seen as the distraction which helped to eliminate “all saints day”, which is the day after halloween, a day most american's completely ignore.
the turkey associated with thanksgiving is presented to the child crispy and ready to be eaten, so there is no lie there. other than the false fact that the pilgrims landed in pymouth… they actually landed and spent the summer months in truro. yes the pilgrims had spent their first summer in the america on the cape, just down the road from the future provincetown… a place with very little deception… my kids knew the judy garland on skates handing out fliers to the cabaret was an xy even before they knew santa was false.
so, the root of the stability malaysian society holds on standard family values is the lack of connection to the santa and easter bunny myths. malay kids have no example of parents caught red handed in conspiratorial disregard for the truth. this allows the parents to hold onto myths and reinforce them much longer than is possible in the west. without the ability to catch a parent in a lie, the child and then adult is kept in the belief of myth cycle…. (hey, it’s a theory that appears to make sense).
now… given it so clearly damages not only the family cohesion, but the ties to conservative society and belief in religion in general… we need to consider who the backers of all of these myths really are. in the secular society of the west, we realize that all three myths are truly propagated by the commercial interests of big business. selling holiday cards, candy and all things gift worthy during christmas is the post-myth acceptable relationship with these holidays. secularism is supported by the understanding that the religious backing of these holidays are if not completely false, than highly questionable.
the question of course becomes… is santa then a conspiracy within a conspiracy. the revelation that santa and his cousin myths so clearly damage the tie in the west between person and belief, turning it into a purely secular and consumer based event… is it possible that this was the sinister goal from the very beginning. is santa a patsy, a fall-guy, meant to expose the deeper myths propagated by the church and other conservative groups in the pre-enlightenment era? is the vast right-wing conspiracy of the holidays a carefully constructed and amazingly executed sinister left-wing conspiracy to expose myth in general? to teach the west that myth both in religion and family are so clearly false that even an 8 year old can see though them.
malaysia has been lucky to largely avoid this exposure by being off the radar of the consumerism of the west. but as malls expand here, and consumerism takes an ever deeper hold on the society, it is only a matter of time.
malaysian children, in order to complete in the world, will soon be the unfair target of learning, knowledge and the ability to analyze when adults are lying to them. how will the society, so clearly requiring the unquestioned belief in elders survive such a vicious and evil assault?
protect your family, your children and your society. ban bad santa.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
changing pakcik
i have been in malaysia for close to three years. when i first got here i was told by some that certain things would never change. there were too deeply protected in the society, and changing such things would bring about a crisis that the government could never accept. the pakcik who run things on seemingly all levels are too protective of their hold on the country, it could just not happen. but i see the country changing as i watch… i wonder if anyone else senses that the things they thought impossible are now happening.
this country is accelerating the process of fracturing into the cosmopolitan and the rural communities represented almost singularly by the micro-sized copy of los angles we know as kuala lumpur, and the vast number of kampong communities which the expats here almost never see. for most expat, malaysia is KL, penang and a group of exclusive islands used for weekend getaways. the british used hilltop retreats to escape the tropical heat… KL locals now use them to gamble and experience a faux western location without air travel.
certain behaviors which only brought disgust and denial three years ago, are now openly discussed. not only do i have an openly gay staff member… or more… but the newest member of parliament is a married man, with 5 children, who no one can really say if he does or doesn’t also have a semi-hidden gay lifestyle. but, i am told is accepted by the gay community either way.
KL has nearly open prostitution, bars that stay open into the late hours of the night, a community of married men and woman who have secret, but not entirely hidden affairs, and the ability to find recreational drugs if you are interested. i have a couple next to me as i type this, the upwardly mobile chinese kid has GQ magazine in front of him and is drinking an espresso drink. in a loud voice he uses well known western colloquial phrases like, “let’s not fuck this up”. he just said, “you can find a lot of partners, you get what you need and you get out” followed by “i know there is a risk involved”. the two i thought were a couple are really a gay man and his female friend out for brunch to discuss his sex life.
when i tell people KL feels like the US this is what i mean. i could be sitting in the US right now and it would feel no different, the things around me would not be much different and the way i am going to spend the rest of my day would mostly be the same. KL continues to become more and more western, specifically american, but american in the early 60s. amercia has melted together, that has not happened here yet, sad and possibly dangerous.
i have been asking myself how this could happen and if it is a good thing. pertronas is quickly running out of oil to help fund the economy here, people still believe they should be retiring at 55, the economy is slowing down, inflation is picking up, and people expect higher raises. The fact that there is other competition outside the country, and that each act here reflects on the country as a whole is not really factored in. people only have a micro-view of their rice bowl, but the world views things in a macro sense and malaysia is not growing fast enough to compensate for its desires.
this is squeezing the small middle class which is crammed into KL and the klang valley. but, what is really hurting things is the self-driven need to copy and compete with the west. the need to have the status symbol of a western produced car, when they cost 3 times what they cost in the west… while the common person makes 25% of what someone makes in the US. this translates to cars which in real terms cost the price of a house in the US are being purchased by people who have the salary of a college drop-out working in starbucks in my home city.
building of real estate continues, junior staff members purchase homes and cars which they would not be allowed to get loans for in the US, but they do it expecting the homes value to have a 30% increase in over short periods to bail them out of danger. “las vegas” vacations are taken couched in the guise of a shopping or beach vacation. life in this sleepy little country on the other side of the world becomes more and more familiar to the westerner.
all of these thoughts were prompted the other morning when i was driving to breakfast and was aggressively cut off by two different middle-aged malay pakcik, not an upper class guy being driven in a western luxury sedan, a standard uncle wearing a songkok with makcik sitting next to him as he drove. this was a first for me, and it happened twice… it happened during ramahdan a time when the devil does not exist.
the pakcik are changing in government, they are losing power and will be replaced. but the pakcik-pakcik on the streets are changing too. when an uncle driving a waja cuts off a matsalleh driving a perdona i know something has changed in this country. i don’t mind getting cut off, i grew up with east coast drivers, i have no issues in boston, hartford or new york traffic, but … this is a “tipping point” moment. things are changing.
i had a meeting with my staff this week. i showed them that there was an opportunity, and benefit, of working more hours and measuring themselves against the staff in the west. i realized that i am helping to drive this change. 30% of my staff is naturally aggressive, a few of them went to school in the US, others have travelled there, but some have/had never left the country, but they are western in both mind-set and behavior. i have helped to foster that because it’s good for the company. the remaining staff is now the target of my “modification”. i am looking to make them a group that not only competes with, but beats americans at a game the west invented and is now bringing east.
as westerners continue to come here, as we show examples of consumerism, workaholism and socially progressive lifestyles are we doing the right thing?
i guess that’s for the people to decide. there are two malaysia’s, kampong is there to move back to, no one is telling them they need to be westerners… but if they have decided that they and their country are going to leave the third-world and enter the first… things do need to change. trying to pretend they have not already changed (and will continue to change faster as they can hold onto the rest of the world) is not going to bring success.
pakcik has figured things out, you can either sit in stalled traffic, or you can push forward.
*********************
someone should tell the chinese guy on the other side of me though that not all things should be copied. red cargo shorts and orange croc clogs are a fashion no-no, east or west…
this country is accelerating the process of fracturing into the cosmopolitan and the rural communities represented almost singularly by the micro-sized copy of los angles we know as kuala lumpur, and the vast number of kampong communities which the expats here almost never see. for most expat, malaysia is KL, penang and a group of exclusive islands used for weekend getaways. the british used hilltop retreats to escape the tropical heat… KL locals now use them to gamble and experience a faux western location without air travel.
certain behaviors which only brought disgust and denial three years ago, are now openly discussed. not only do i have an openly gay staff member… or more… but the newest member of parliament is a married man, with 5 children, who no one can really say if he does or doesn’t also have a semi-hidden gay lifestyle. but, i am told is accepted by the gay community either way.
KL has nearly open prostitution, bars that stay open into the late hours of the night, a community of married men and woman who have secret, but not entirely hidden affairs, and the ability to find recreational drugs if you are interested. i have a couple next to me as i type this, the upwardly mobile chinese kid has GQ magazine in front of him and is drinking an espresso drink. in a loud voice he uses well known western colloquial phrases like, “let’s not fuck this up”. he just said, “you can find a lot of partners, you get what you need and you get out” followed by “i know there is a risk involved”. the two i thought were a couple are really a gay man and his female friend out for brunch to discuss his sex life.
when i tell people KL feels like the US this is what i mean. i could be sitting in the US right now and it would feel no different, the things around me would not be much different and the way i am going to spend the rest of my day would mostly be the same. KL continues to become more and more western, specifically american, but american in the early 60s. amercia has melted together, that has not happened here yet, sad and possibly dangerous.
i have been asking myself how this could happen and if it is a good thing. pertronas is quickly running out of oil to help fund the economy here, people still believe they should be retiring at 55, the economy is slowing down, inflation is picking up, and people expect higher raises. The fact that there is other competition outside the country, and that each act here reflects on the country as a whole is not really factored in. people only have a micro-view of their rice bowl, but the world views things in a macro sense and malaysia is not growing fast enough to compensate for its desires.
this is squeezing the small middle class which is crammed into KL and the klang valley. but, what is really hurting things is the self-driven need to copy and compete with the west. the need to have the status symbol of a western produced car, when they cost 3 times what they cost in the west… while the common person makes 25% of what someone makes in the US. this translates to cars which in real terms cost the price of a house in the US are being purchased by people who have the salary of a college drop-out working in starbucks in my home city.
building of real estate continues, junior staff members purchase homes and cars which they would not be allowed to get loans for in the US, but they do it expecting the homes value to have a 30% increase in over short periods to bail them out of danger. “las vegas” vacations are taken couched in the guise of a shopping or beach vacation. life in this sleepy little country on the other side of the world becomes more and more familiar to the westerner.
all of these thoughts were prompted the other morning when i was driving to breakfast and was aggressively cut off by two different middle-aged malay pakcik, not an upper class guy being driven in a western luxury sedan, a standard uncle wearing a songkok with makcik sitting next to him as he drove. this was a first for me, and it happened twice… it happened during ramahdan a time when the devil does not exist.
the pakcik are changing in government, they are losing power and will be replaced. but the pakcik-pakcik on the streets are changing too. when an uncle driving a waja cuts off a matsalleh driving a perdona i know something has changed in this country. i don’t mind getting cut off, i grew up with east coast drivers, i have no issues in boston, hartford or new york traffic, but … this is a “tipping point” moment. things are changing.
i had a meeting with my staff this week. i showed them that there was an opportunity, and benefit, of working more hours and measuring themselves against the staff in the west. i realized that i am helping to drive this change. 30% of my staff is naturally aggressive, a few of them went to school in the US, others have travelled there, but some have/had never left the country, but they are western in both mind-set and behavior. i have helped to foster that because it’s good for the company. the remaining staff is now the target of my “modification”. i am looking to make them a group that not only competes with, but beats americans at a game the west invented and is now bringing east.
as westerners continue to come here, as we show examples of consumerism, workaholism and socially progressive lifestyles are we doing the right thing?
i guess that’s for the people to decide. there are two malaysia’s, kampong is there to move back to, no one is telling them they need to be westerners… but if they have decided that they and their country are going to leave the third-world and enter the first… things do need to change. trying to pretend they have not already changed (and will continue to change faster as they can hold onto the rest of the world) is not going to bring success.
pakcik has figured things out, you can either sit in stalled traffic, or you can push forward.
*********************
someone should tell the chinese guy on the other side of me though that not all things should be copied. red cargo shorts and orange croc clogs are a fashion no-no, east or west…
Saturday, September 06, 2008
open doors
“sliding doors” is a movie from about 10 years ago that starred gwyneth paltrow as a woman in london who one day either catchs a train or doesn’t. as the movie progresses, her life takes two paths, paths that in the end recombine in a meaningful and interesting way. i am looking for this film in my favorite DVD stores, but i can't find it… either way i continue to think about the fact that every small decision, every chance encounter could have large/meaningful or small/insignificant impacts in my life.
as a kid i would stay home from school sick and watch bob barker on the “price is right”, the show had bob offering someone the choice of three doors, once selected he would try to get the person to alter their choice. the person is standing with the crowd screaming at them “door number three”… even at seven i was enthralled watching someone choosing under pressure. the doors had either wonderful prizes or the “booby prize”… if the person selected the wrong door they would play music that sounded like “whaaa whaaa waaaaaaaa”… clearly not a good choice…
life is not a game show, but we do get to pick doors. we either make the train or we don’t. we walk over and start a conversation that can lead to a friendship or we stay where we are and may never connect with that person. we send an email, or we assume the person doesn’t remember us and we move on and think about something else. life is choice; some are a lot harder than picking from three doors while the crowd of strangers screams at you to change your mind.
every so often, i have to explain why i have literally closed the door on a person i should have loved and never been able to shut out of my life. i remember the moment, i can feel the feelings almost 30 years later like they were yesterday… it was a choice i made, one i have reconsidered but never changed. i am pretty sure i will never change it; it’s a decision that fundamentally altered my life. it was much more conscience than missing a train.
half a lifetime later i got a letter from someone who needed to talk to me. the letter was a mechanism to ensure a safety zone of forced distance. the distance was needed not to allow truth, but to enable a manufactured framework. i read the letter, and understood the unspoken meaning; a door was closing, one that was promised to always be open. i flashed back to watching nixon step down from office. strangely these two moments in my life were tightly tied together. they were both moments that would lead to my needing to decide if i was going to close and lock a door myself.
i have a best friend, we live far apart, we don’t talk every day, our lives drift as we live them, but we have an agreement that everyone else we care about knows and is not given a vote on. we agree that no matter what, if one of us knocks the other will open the door. i will be happy with this arrangement for the rest of my life, because it is done out of commitment not obligation. having someone choose to accept you is much deeper than having them do it out of some obligatory need.
the second time i made the choice, i chose to move behind a door, but gave the other person a set of keys and the instruction that i saw the door not as mine, but ours. i understand that we need to have the door between us, but even if it’s locked… they know it can be opened. when i am not there, they can come in and just sit or take a shower and a nap, whatever it takes to feel clean and rested. i could not shut a door like that a second time in my life, if i did i knew it would require me to add locks and bolts which i might never get open again. sometimes safety comes with its own risk, and this risk i was not willing to take.
big and small decisions, doors that are open and closed, opportunities taken and lost, and threads of life that somehow find a way to come back together. but these same threads can also find a way to move apart, to weave in different directions with no apparent connection. the tapestry of life is big and bright and complex. random events are really trillions of decisions which have added up to a point in time and space. randomness is really just amazing complexity.
the only way you might realize you are behind a locked door is when you look down and see that you have two sets of keys in your hands. all you can do is hope someone will knock.
as a kid i would stay home from school sick and watch bob barker on the “price is right”, the show had bob offering someone the choice of three doors, once selected he would try to get the person to alter their choice. the person is standing with the crowd screaming at them “door number three”… even at seven i was enthralled watching someone choosing under pressure. the doors had either wonderful prizes or the “booby prize”… if the person selected the wrong door they would play music that sounded like “whaaa whaaa waaaaaaaa”… clearly not a good choice…
life is not a game show, but we do get to pick doors. we either make the train or we don’t. we walk over and start a conversation that can lead to a friendship or we stay where we are and may never connect with that person. we send an email, or we assume the person doesn’t remember us and we move on and think about something else. life is choice; some are a lot harder than picking from three doors while the crowd of strangers screams at you to change your mind.
every so often, i have to explain why i have literally closed the door on a person i should have loved and never been able to shut out of my life. i remember the moment, i can feel the feelings almost 30 years later like they were yesterday… it was a choice i made, one i have reconsidered but never changed. i am pretty sure i will never change it; it’s a decision that fundamentally altered my life. it was much more conscience than missing a train.
half a lifetime later i got a letter from someone who needed to talk to me. the letter was a mechanism to ensure a safety zone of forced distance. the distance was needed not to allow truth, but to enable a manufactured framework. i read the letter, and understood the unspoken meaning; a door was closing, one that was promised to always be open. i flashed back to watching nixon step down from office. strangely these two moments in my life were tightly tied together. they were both moments that would lead to my needing to decide if i was going to close and lock a door myself.
i have a best friend, we live far apart, we don’t talk every day, our lives drift as we live them, but we have an agreement that everyone else we care about knows and is not given a vote on. we agree that no matter what, if one of us knocks the other will open the door. i will be happy with this arrangement for the rest of my life, because it is done out of commitment not obligation. having someone choose to accept you is much deeper than having them do it out of some obligatory need.
the second time i made the choice, i chose to move behind a door, but gave the other person a set of keys and the instruction that i saw the door not as mine, but ours. i understand that we need to have the door between us, but even if it’s locked… they know it can be opened. when i am not there, they can come in and just sit or take a shower and a nap, whatever it takes to feel clean and rested. i could not shut a door like that a second time in my life, if i did i knew it would require me to add locks and bolts which i might never get open again. sometimes safety comes with its own risk, and this risk i was not willing to take.
big and small decisions, doors that are open and closed, opportunities taken and lost, and threads of life that somehow find a way to come back together. but these same threads can also find a way to move apart, to weave in different directions with no apparent connection. the tapestry of life is big and bright and complex. random events are really trillions of decisions which have added up to a point in time and space. randomness is really just amazing complexity.
the only way you might realize you are behind a locked door is when you look down and see that you have two sets of keys in your hands. all you can do is hope someone will knock.
coffee love
i tend to fall into patterns. the patterns of my life are both things that i decide upon and those that are thrust upon me with little or no control. i can refuse to accept some of these, but situation and responsibility come into the decision to break the pattern. other patterns are simple and easy to fall into because the first few times you do them it feels perfect and you find yourself doing it again. these are the patterns that make you who you are. they are the ones that you create for yourself and want to continue even when people question them.
i am in the middle of one of those patterns right now. i am sitting in a café with a bottle of water, a double espresso and blueberry pancake in front of me. when i came to malaysia i would eat local breakfast most days. “dua roti caini, kari ayam dan satu nescafe tarik”, but after about 9 months the desire to have something that felt more familiar came pushing back into my life. i found a bakery and switched to “un café express et un croissant, si vou plait” (only with the owner, otherwise it was back to english, bahasa or burmese i was reading from a book). after another year this also started to lose its ability to satisfy my need to feel at home, and i began to breakfast in my weekend café, the source of my pancakes, even during the week.
in all of this, there is only one constant… coffee. i have moved locations, cuisines and languages used to order (yes, most times english works, but what is the fun in that), but the coffee remains. it remains because at the root of all patterns, of all decisions that someone makes, there must be basic requirements. for me, starting a day requires caffeine. i woke up at 9:30 today, i left the house 4 hours later, it wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon that i got to my coffee, but for me this is the beginning of the day.
i was a coffee fan long before i drank it. i fondly remember my mother, aunts and grandmother sitting in nana’s kitchen, smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee from their saucers. they would pour their fresh perked, steaming hot, coffee onto the saucer and blow on it until they could sip. this was done with conversation and jokes flowing freely. my grandmother was the only quiet person in our family, a typical irish extended family, coming together around a table and laughing, crying or screaming at each other… sometimes all in the space of 20 minutes.
coffee is the drink that i found settled my mind when it is racing. growing up i always struggled with too many random thoughts coming and going as i was trying to focus. focus was hard to find, but came in the form of a bitter tasting black drink that can be had at any time day or night. luckily, it does not affect me by making me jittery… well it can, but it takes 15 shots of espresso a day over an extended period of time to get me there… ask me about the persumma year and i will tell you that it ended with me cutting back on coffee and realizing that everything has it’s limits. what coffee does for me is allow me to relax and settle down into a comfortable groove where my mind seems to flow rather than race. finding a way to feel this comfortable is what people search for their entire lives.
years ago, actually during the pursumma year, i was in line at starbucks, there was a queue 10 people deep, the barista was asking us if anyone wanted an espresso drink. i was in a snobby suburb outside of boston, and still most of them were drinking drip coffee not espresso… the lady in front of me and i both jumped up in line because our espresso drinks were done more quickly. i said to her “we have the perfect addiction”. she looked back at me with the “addiction?” look, but come on… “socially acceptable, cheap, available almost everywhere, easy to make for yourself” (the kids could make a solid latte on the home espresso machine at 8)… this is the kind of addiction you want in your life.
yes, my {beautiful indian} doctor reminds me that i should cut back, starting the day with 4 double espressos while i do email that tends push my day from dead stop to 100 miles an hour could be seen by others as a warning sign… but for me the coffee is the settling ingredient. it lets me focus for the next few hours… until the effects wear off and i start craving diet coke… yes, caffeine but not nearly as potent or enjoyable.
we start relationships with, “would you like to have coffee”. we extend dinners where the conversation is interesting and fun with, “why don’t we have coffee and look at the dessert menu”. we show friendship by remembering how someone takes their morning jolt. we show love by getting up early and making the coffee so we can bring the other person a cup while they shower…. it can be hot or cold, black, white or all the shades in between. everyone, all the way around the world, all levels of society, all races and religions drink coffee. any two people can sit and have a conversation over coffee… coffee is love in a cup.
i do fall into patterns. i do change my mind on things. i make plans and then alter them on the fly based on how i feel at the moment. but the one true constant in my life is that i know what i want right now, and every single morning… she is strong, black and makes me feel great… i love knowing that she is there for me.
i am in the middle of one of those patterns right now. i am sitting in a café with a bottle of water, a double espresso and blueberry pancake in front of me. when i came to malaysia i would eat local breakfast most days. “dua roti caini, kari ayam dan satu nescafe tarik”, but after about 9 months the desire to have something that felt more familiar came pushing back into my life. i found a bakery and switched to “un café express et un croissant, si vou plait” (only with the owner, otherwise it was back to english, bahasa or burmese i was reading from a book). after another year this also started to lose its ability to satisfy my need to feel at home, and i began to breakfast in my weekend café, the source of my pancakes, even during the week.
in all of this, there is only one constant… coffee. i have moved locations, cuisines and languages used to order (yes, most times english works, but what is the fun in that), but the coffee remains. it remains because at the root of all patterns, of all decisions that someone makes, there must be basic requirements. for me, starting a day requires caffeine. i woke up at 9:30 today, i left the house 4 hours later, it wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon that i got to my coffee, but for me this is the beginning of the day.
i was a coffee fan long before i drank it. i fondly remember my mother, aunts and grandmother sitting in nana’s kitchen, smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee from their saucers. they would pour their fresh perked, steaming hot, coffee onto the saucer and blow on it until they could sip. this was done with conversation and jokes flowing freely. my grandmother was the only quiet person in our family, a typical irish extended family, coming together around a table and laughing, crying or screaming at each other… sometimes all in the space of 20 minutes.
coffee is the drink that i found settled my mind when it is racing. growing up i always struggled with too many random thoughts coming and going as i was trying to focus. focus was hard to find, but came in the form of a bitter tasting black drink that can be had at any time day or night. luckily, it does not affect me by making me jittery… well it can, but it takes 15 shots of espresso a day over an extended period of time to get me there… ask me about the persumma year and i will tell you that it ended with me cutting back on coffee and realizing that everything has it’s limits. what coffee does for me is allow me to relax and settle down into a comfortable groove where my mind seems to flow rather than race. finding a way to feel this comfortable is what people search for their entire lives.
years ago, actually during the pursumma year, i was in line at starbucks, there was a queue 10 people deep, the barista was asking us if anyone wanted an espresso drink. i was in a snobby suburb outside of boston, and still most of them were drinking drip coffee not espresso… the lady in front of me and i both jumped up in line because our espresso drinks were done more quickly. i said to her “we have the perfect addiction”. she looked back at me with the “addiction?” look, but come on… “socially acceptable, cheap, available almost everywhere, easy to make for yourself” (the kids could make a solid latte on the home espresso machine at 8)… this is the kind of addiction you want in your life.
yes, my {beautiful indian} doctor reminds me that i should cut back, starting the day with 4 double espressos while i do email that tends push my day from dead stop to 100 miles an hour could be seen by others as a warning sign… but for me the coffee is the settling ingredient. it lets me focus for the next few hours… until the effects wear off and i start craving diet coke… yes, caffeine but not nearly as potent or enjoyable.
we start relationships with, “would you like to have coffee”. we extend dinners where the conversation is interesting and fun with, “why don’t we have coffee and look at the dessert menu”. we show friendship by remembering how someone takes their morning jolt. we show love by getting up early and making the coffee so we can bring the other person a cup while they shower…. it can be hot or cold, black, white or all the shades in between. everyone, all the way around the world, all levels of society, all races and religions drink coffee. any two people can sit and have a conversation over coffee… coffee is love in a cup.
i do fall into patterns. i do change my mind on things. i make plans and then alter them on the fly based on how i feel at the moment. but the one true constant in my life is that i know what i want right now, and every single morning… she is strong, black and makes me feel great… i love knowing that she is there for me.
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