Coffee

Upon reading Michael Pollan's section of Marijuana in his novel The Botany of Desire, I am brought to my thoughts on Intoxication.

My daily intoxicant of choice is caffeine, in the form of coffee. I anticipate the kick that a cup of steaming brew gives me in the morning. It puts me in a high gear, and my noon all of my daily tasks are crossed off of my to-do list.

I also like everything that surrounds the morning coffee ritual. I like that it is morning, that the day is new, and that my mind and body have a clean start. I bask in the feeling of emptiness in my body upon waking and everything I do or touch feels cleaner and more holy than it would later in the day. Morning is: clean clothes, rested body, silence, and the cool dewy air giving away to warmth as I ride my bike to the coffee shop.

I drink my coffee in a coffee shop. Early. The only noise is the steam and gurgle of the espresso machine and the soft morning conversation of the people around me. After a cup of coffee, words flow into my journal. Poetry read on the page is spell binding, and I create almost effortlessly my own metaphors, descriptions and narratives, as I'm certain the trail of writers before me have done.

Coffee is part of the ritual for beginning. In the mountains during the summer after an afternoon nap, I walk to the kitchen, put a half cup of oily, fresh beans into the manual grinder, turn the crank, put a kettle on the stove, heat water, put the coffee grinds in a filter and finally pour hot water onto the fresh, dry grounds to make me a potent, black java.
I sip my steaming coffee in a small mug complimented by a few slices of sharp cheddar cheese.

I am relaxed from my nap, and reawakened by my coffee. This is my signal for the second half of the day to begin, and my intoxication provides me with a jolt and a smile to continue my daily work.