"No one can understand the truth until he drinks of coffee's frothy goodness." ~Sheik Abd-al-Kadir
Last night, my birthday night, was a chill evening with a few friends at one of my favorite restaurants in DC, Zaytinya followed by more friends at 18th Street Lounge.
In the wee hours, I settled in my little room with the windows open. I love sleeping with the windows open. It's so brisk and fresh, and I always wake up feeling rested and somehow clean. Even in the middle of a city like Washington, D.C. The sirens, noise, etc. becomes lulling, like urban waves rocking me to sleep.
What is beautiful, is waking up to birds chirping overhead. And I don't mean helos, i mean real birds. Singing and chirping and tweeting because today is the first day of spring.
As the church bells nearby sounded off the Christian call to prayer, it faintly reminded me of the adhan's I used to hear the imams lyrically cry from the tops of the minarets. Their voices would pierce the sky, filling it up with the Sehadet, static replacing vocals in between each line of their calls.
Unlike the impassioned cries incomprehensible to me, I understood this call of the faithful, the vibration of the tones resonating in chest, the delicate high notes raising my thoughts to God. And with that I made coffee. It has been said that our lives are acts of worship, our actions are manifestations of the larger Glory. Excellence should be pursued, not because it is good to excel, but because it reminds us of something unattainable, something better. Passion should be fed and nurtured, not stifled and repressed.
As I ground the coffee, I considered the technology, time, and passion devoted by many to have me where I am--standing at my kitchen counter, grinding coffee to press into the well of my espresso maker. After tamping it, I placed the well into the machine, depressed the handle. The heavy whirring of the professional-grade Italian espresso maker sprung to life, and the black liquid poured into my coffee cup until the tan froth let me know it was finished. Steaming the soymilk, I had a surreal moment of being acutely aware of and savoring the rare gift that I am experiencing the pleasure of God in my simple act of self-indulgence.
So I tried to make a little design in my coffee cup. I was going to make it a heart, but I LOVE thistles. I think because I loved Eeyore as a kid. He was so melancholic and misunderstood. But he loved him some thistles! Instead, as soon as I saw that it could be transformed to a thistle, I changed the design, which is what you see.
Savor the Flavor!
Last night, my birthday night, was a chill evening with a few friends at one of my favorite restaurants in DC, Zaytinya followed by more friends at 18th Street Lounge.
In the wee hours, I settled in my little room with the windows open. I love sleeping with the windows open. It's so brisk and fresh, and I always wake up feeling rested and somehow clean. Even in the middle of a city like Washington, D.C. The sirens, noise, etc. becomes lulling, like urban waves rocking me to sleep.
What is beautiful, is waking up to birds chirping overhead. And I don't mean helos, i mean real birds. Singing and chirping and tweeting because today is the first day of spring.
As the church bells nearby sounded off the Christian call to prayer, it faintly reminded me of the adhan's I used to hear the imams lyrically cry from the tops of the minarets. Their voices would pierce the sky, filling it up with the Sehadet, static replacing vocals in between each line of their calls.
Unlike the impassioned cries incomprehensible to me, I understood this call of the faithful, the vibration of the tones resonating in chest, the delicate high notes raising my thoughts to God. And with that I made coffee. It has been said that our lives are acts of worship, our actions are manifestations of the larger Glory. Excellence should be pursued, not because it is good to excel, but because it reminds us of something unattainable, something better. Passion should be fed and nurtured, not stifled and repressed.
As I ground the coffee, I considered the technology, time, and passion devoted by many to have me where I am--standing at my kitchen counter, grinding coffee to press into the well of my espresso maker. After tamping it, I placed the well into the machine, depressed the handle. The heavy whirring of the professional-grade Italian espresso maker sprung to life, and the black liquid poured into my coffee cup until the tan froth let me know it was finished. Steaming the soymilk, I had a surreal moment of being acutely aware of and savoring the rare gift that I am experiencing the pleasure of God in my simple act of self-indulgence.
So I tried to make a little design in my coffee cup. I was going to make it a heart, but I LOVE thistles. I think because I loved Eeyore as a kid. He was so melancholic and misunderstood. But he loved him some thistles! Instead, as soon as I saw that it could be transformed to a thistle, I changed the design, which is what you see.
Savor the Flavor!
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