I think coffee is the one thing that keeps me hopeful about God. I generally find God to be a hard sell, and I usually don’t buy it, but coffee has a way of making me question my beliefs. Every time I drink coffee in the morning, it’s like a spiritual epiphany.
Which is good, because I do really wish I was more spiritual. I sometimes wish I was religious - not for the sake of any comfort regarding death or anything (although I suppose that wouldn’t hurt) but for the sake of being a part of a community that invests their lives together in something outside of their understanding. It would be comforting to be a piece of something that exists on a grander scale.
More often I’m fine without being a religious person, however. But I do wish I was more spiritual. I don’t know where my parents went wrong with me, because they seemed to have done everything right. I do love and am awed by the natural world, but I do not find god in nature in the same way I know my parents do. For them, everything is an expression of god’s influence in the world, whatever or whoever that god may be.
But though I have a hard time finding a spiritual sacredness to the things around me, I am possessed by an impression that I think is the next best thing. Though I cannot feel my soul being touched by outside effects, I can find beauty in everything. It’s not always quick or easy, but everything I see, hear, and touch has some kind of beauty to me.
And coffee is indeed a beautiful thing to me. As with all other things, it’s beauty doesn’t really lie in it’s appearance, but in the nature of its existence. It’s touching to me, from the gorgeous, deep brown color to the shape of the mug to the stains left by the few drops that escaped my lips to cling to the rim of the mug. Everything about it is particularly striking.
This is my version of being spiritual. It’s not quite how I would like for it to be, but it allows me to hold a lot of appreciation for the world. Maybe there isn’t much more to being a spiritual person than that. If that’s the case then I guess I’m set. But I don’t think I am. I’m still changing, after all, so maybe soon I will find God and not just beauty in my coffee.
But for now my mug is empty. Which is sad. But I’ll have another cup tomorrow.