On occasion, I have been called a coffee snob. I expect, I would be snubbed by most “true” coffee snobs, but I cannot deny the appropriateness of teasing me about my persnickitiness. I don’t mind the moniker, true or not. Honestly, those who opinionatedly believe that putting time and effort into the minute details of a warm, dark and aromatic cup of coffee is kooky, are just missing a bit of perspective. A slight tilt of the head and things look much different. You may not like the kind of coffee I like but to say that trying to make good coffee is too much work just can’t be an absolute truth.
Preparing great coffee is like art or music, woodworking, quilting, fishing, flying, four wheeling or gardening. Anything that produces and end result considered worth the effort begs attention to the process. So the first real question is, is it worth the effort? And that is a totally subjective question. For example, if your only measurement is Taco Bell, don’t tell me you don’t like tacos. It would be a mistake to make a unilateral decision about the enjoyment of flying if all you ever tried was flapping your arms. You can’t appreciate the full impact of art by going to a pre-school open house. To judge something, you have to experience it in a way that honors the intention behind it.
It’s been often said, though rarely followed that, it’s not the destination, but the journey that counts. Perhaps both matter equally, even if you don’t know what the end is or exactly where you are in the journey. Limited as broken people without a clear view of the future, how can we expect to fully understand the implications of any of our circumstances or what is coming? What remains is the security of trusting that there is hope for both the past and the future. We are to live in the present in the most authentic way possible, as creatures who owe the glory we have. We owe it to the farmers, harvesters, mucilage strippers and roasters who came before and the fellow aficionados who will come after (metaphorically speaking).
If the journey and the end both matter and we are not in control of either, then it follows that the fullest enjoyment of every moment is really, really important. It is each moment that the rest are built on. This, in the back of my mind, is why the art and ritual of coffee making brings so much satisfaction. It is why a successful attempt introduced happily to lips, tongue and throat makes me want to share. I have, for a moment, connected with beauty, power, joy…even, eternity.
Taking an extra couple of minutes to put forth a prize deserving effort really isn’t much compared to the years Michelangelo spent on his back in chapel or covered with David’s dust. But it is a little, tiny bit like it. I wish it were more. I wish I could see the significance of each action of my life as the part of eternity that it actually is. Until then, I will try with all that I imagine to be as much of what I was made to be for every moment. Forgive me for my failure. Grace to all of us. Glory is coming.
Snob, you are not
ReplyDeleteWhile your enthusiasm for coffee might border on obsession, I would not call it snobbery. Being a snob carries with it a level of disdain towards those who do not share in your interest. I, for one, have not felt any disdain due to the fact that, as you know, my interest in coffee is limited to it being hot, dark and made within the last 24 hours. Impassioned is how I would describe your fascination with coffee, and just about everything you take an interest in.
The drive to understand the purpose, meaning and nuances of something as seemingly insignificant as coffee making is a demonstration of what makes humanity unique in creation. Despite anthropomorphic efforts, with clever voice-overs, in animal documentaries, I believe it would be difficult to demonstrate that any creatures, other than humans, give conscious thought to the greater purpose of their existence. It is because of our awareness of a destination, or end, that the journey has any significance at all.