Coffee, talk to me.

This morning's coffee sits here, like it does every day, a coarse, hazy glow of steeped bean particles, swirling around from the physics of contained heat. We each stay warm and silent for about ten minutes, while I intellectualize, reflect and sip. It is always a scorpion and turtle moment with my coffee, except at times I think we have very similar natures.

We are so connected to food that sometimes I cannot see the difference between us. We can dress each thing up, pair them well, put them in pretty clothes and napkins in pretty places, but our essences will not change; we, both people and food, will either nourish or poison. If poison, we should take them in small, indulgent doses, like cake or a one night stand. If nourishment, we should hold onto them, love them, treat them like our greatest gifts, and forgive them their shortcomings of ill-timed words and hard shells.

Yesterday, roller derby taught me that there is no stop, or backwards. Everything is progress. Even a fall is forward movement. I wish I had that perspective when I was feeling sorry for myself three years ago. Today, my coffee sits, settles, as I think of everyone's need to be honest with ourselves about the elements we allow to take time and space in our lives. Look at something, someone, around you. What is the goal of allowing this time to be spent this way? Is it nourishing or poisoning the forward movements of your dreams, your ideas, your projects?

Thanks, coffee, for this time together. You don't create meaning, but you allow me to. I will see you again, tomorrow.