Coffee Mishap Metaphors
Recently I had my first coffee breakdown in quite a while. However this one wasn’t caused by what I have named the ‘I Need Coffee To Make Coffee’ phenomenon. Like when you setup your pourover and go to add your grounds only to almost dump whole beans straight from the bag. Or when you prep your machine the night before with everything but water and then completely forget that come morning and spend five minutes trying to figure out why the machine isn’t working.
This was an equipment failure. For the first time ever while making a pourover, the paper liner split at the base, filling my waiting mug with hot water and grounds sludge. And as someone who usually uses the cheapest filters possible, having this break come from one of the wayward fancy, brown paper, organic, expensive filters was more than a little frustrating.
And yet…
It struck me as a good metaphor for creating, especially creating regularly. Because when something becomes a fluid habit, it’s easy to expect it to go the same all the time. Whether that’s making coffee, brushing your teeth, or doing your daily sketches. The result may vary, and some days you even feel accomplished with your efforts. (Who hasn’t made a great cup of tea or coffee and thought you did a damn fine job?)
But sometimes that regular, predictable journey gets jostled. You knock over the toothbrush holder and it breaks as it hits the floor. See above re: coffee flub. Your pencil breaks mid-line.
You keep going. You don’t abandon the work you already put in. Rinse the toothbrush and put it on a towel while you look for a spare cup. Set up another mug with a new filter and pour the whole mug of dredgy mess into it. Grab a different pencil.
You complete the routine and… the result isn’t great. In your distraction you missed a bit of breakfast caught in your teeth, feeling it wedged in there on the commute to work. The repoured coffee is weak as hell. The scratch from the broken lead has marred an otherwise skillful drawing.
It’s natural to be frustrated by this as much as it is to be frustrated by trying to write a blog post and having heavy tree trimming machinery grinding away outside on an otherwise mild and calm day.
Still, these aren’t reasons to stop, in the moment or the following day. They might lead to discoveries about changing up the routine or its process. Or it might be one frustrating detour in an otherwise smooth week (or month). You might have another mishap tomorrow. It’s part of the journey. Your creative practice is part of your life. Practice doesn’t mean every day you create a masterpiece. It does mean you build on your experience day by day, deal with the spills as they come, and move on. Because it’s part of your life. It’s an essential part of finding who you are, how you see the world, how you express yourself.
It might even be more important than coffee…
At least weak, refiltered coffee…
