Just Call Me Grace

Oh, if coffee pots and mugs could indeed walk. If you asked me about this 3 weeks ago, I would have sworn that they could.

And did.

Let me preface this story by stating very matter-of-factly that I am not a morning person. Make no qualms about it, there is nothing chipper about yours truly in the birth of a new day. And on weekends, both friends and family know not to even call before 11 or 12:00. However, with a good cup of coffee to start me off, I am much more tolerable.

And so started a random Saturday morning about 3 weeks back. I woke up and shortly thereafter made my way to the glass and plastic divine incarnation known as the coffeemaker. My boss had recently returned from a trip to Italy, and brought me back my favorite coffee from Rome. (In fact, the only time I ever get this coffee is when my boss goes to Rome, since I have not yet found an importer here in New York.) So I made my delicious coffee and rested on the couch.

Five minutes or so had passed when I decided to interrupt the coffee-making and sneak a cup before the whole pot was brewed. I walked into the kitchen and lo and behold, there was my coffee pot sitting next to the coffeemaker. “Thank God that the coffeemaker has a stop-drip feature,” I thought, knowing that my little machine would be crossing her proverbial legs while 10 cups of Rome’s finest brew rushed through her veins. But alas, my little coffeemaker couldn’t hold it and had quite an accident on my kitchen counter. And not just any accident. My counter was soaked. The placemat under the coffeemaker barely did any good. There was hot coffee under my cell phone holder, under the espresso machine, under the toaster. Everywhere. After a few expletives and half the roll of paper towels, the mess was sopped up. I realized that in my quick response I had managed to save one precious cup of joe.

I poured my coffee and used the last of my half & half for my cup. “At least I have one cup,” I thought to myself and settled back down on the couch to my breakfast. I started to eat my blueberry muffin, and with my muffin laden fingers, reached for my coffee. Before I knew what was happening, my coffee cup slid out of my grip and spilled all over the living room coffee table. And a coffee table it was. Coffee on the bills to be paid, coffee under the flowers, coffee staining my books and even coffee on poor Oprah’s face on the cover of her newest magazine. “C’mon!” I yelled to no one in particular. So again I started the cleanup process, using the balance of paper towels left on the roll. A mouthful of coffee was all that remained and I gingerly set the cup upright again on the table. As I was Windexing the mess left behind, I hit a stack of books, which hit the cup. The cup did a perfect triple pike dismount and landed spilling my morning dreams on the carpet. At this point, I started laughing out loud.

“It’s not easy being me,” a phrase that I said jokingly time and time again now proved itself to be true. I shook my head and realized my lesson. Pay attention, Linda. Be aware of what you are doing. Be present. Be in your body. See what is happening around you.

Many times in life when the going gets tough, I get going…to a spiritual plane that is. I frequently zone out to some other dimension and am just fine operating from that standpoint. Escapism? Perhaps. But I like to think that I am more at home somewhere “up there” than I am right here, right now. Eckhart Tolle talks about “Mind Strategies for Avoiding the Now” in his book The Power of Now. He suggests, “Wherever you are, be there totally.”

Smart.

I now realize that I did not come to this earth to escape it. I came to experience it. Every beautiful, ugly and coffee-filled part of it. And it was something the Universe was reminding me of.

Lesson learned, I called my mother to share my insight. She suggested that maybe the real lesson was that I shouldn’t be drinking coffee.

Now, now. Let’s not get crazy.