Sitting on my bench early this morning, taking in a view of the yard, I made mental notes of what needed to be done to help it along. I’ve surmised the yard is my happy place.
I’ve been wanting a place to sit outside and connect with the morning. The bench highlighted in my previous post offers that space. What I like about this space so far is, it can be used solitarily, or I can invite people in and it will expand. Connecting with all kinds of people expands our thinking, and the heart, but they need to be invited in.
I’m practicing letting people in, and it’s not a simple practice. I had a neighbor stop by yesterday and we didn’t really connect. The visit began with my daughter’s dog taking a nip at her leg, and it all just went downhill from there. At first I was discouraged over our visit, but then concluded, it’s going to take more practice.
Keep the door continually propped open.
People are meant to cross our path for a reason and sometimes a season, but it’s rare that they stay forever. The only requirement from us is to let them in.
I’ve been thinking about this, and had a vision I’d like to share. It took some thought and planning ahead, but it’s well worth every effort. The first thing I saw to do was to scrub the beach rug clean.
It’s odd, but in January hundreds of birds fly overhead all day long dropping red berries. My truck looks like it lost a paintball match and everything is covered in bright, red, splatters, including my front porch. That is where the beach rug resides.
For me this year, outside is where I see a sacred space. To sit Yogi style on the rug at sunrise, wrapped in a warm blanket, and tap into the sights and sounds of the early morning. I imagine it being like unguided meditation at it’s best.
What is a beautiful morning?
It’s about creating some space for meditation, reflection, movement, writing, or anything else you’d like to have room for in your life. And finding some space in the mornings for that, a sacred space that takes advantage of the quiet and beautiful light of the mornings.
After posting a good night’s sleep I learned as soon as my eyes open, to sit up in the middle of the bed immediately. To sip a glass of water and give my body a chance to catch up with my brain. Sitting in the middle of the bed meditating in that quiet, stillness of the morning is beautiful for me, but recently I find myself gazing out windows often. Like my heart is nudging me outside.
The front porch is clean and waiting.
Let’s follow the heart outside and see what we learn by being present in the early morning light. I’ll let you know where this leads, but in the meantime I wish you a beautiful morning.
I woke up at 4am, and couldn’t decide whether or not to go back to sleep. It’s amazing how many tiny choices we make in a day, with each one altering the next.
I began thinking of my French Press and how I haven’t used it very much. It was one of those things Barb ‘had to have’, but I couldn’t get satisfied with the taste of the coffee. I have read articles from coffee experts, and the instructions that came with the press, but this early in the morning, I wanted some simple steps. Google led me to an article by the easy to follow woman behind Gimme Some Oven.
Her way of making it just made sense to me, so I hopped outta bed at 5:00 am, and strolled quietly into the kitchen with instructions in hand, ready to try again. There are several steps involved in making a French Press, but anything that’s worthwhile has steps.
First I had to see how much water the press would hold. It held 4 cups, so I poured the water into the gooseneck kettle and sat it on the stove to bring it to a boil. Then waited. After it begins to boil, the water needs to rest for a minute, so I took it off the burner to rest.
I opened the timer on my phone and set it for 4 minutes, and poured the freshly ground beans into the French Press, just going through the steps. The hot water was poured just over the bed of grinds, about 2 inches, and stirred with a wooden chopstick to wet every grind, and the timer began.
My favorite part is watching it bloom. Putting my face over the press, I inhaled the magical aroma. If it’s really good coffee it should bloom, or foam up. The more it foams, the better quality. After one minute had passed, the rest of the water was poured in and the lid was put into place. The screen rested on top of the water with the plunger standing up.
I watched the countdown of time ticking by with the numbers illuminated blue in color. It was interesting when the timer got down to the last 30 seconds, the numbers turned red.
The one thing that bothered me about using the French press in the past was the feel of the pressing. I know how it’s supposed to feel when you press the plunger down with the palm of your hand. It should have some resistance, and not be effortless. This time it had plenty of resistance, so in the past I hadn’t poured enough in.
Don’t go back to sleep. The day is waiting for us to step into it.
Keep using what we have and get it right.
Follow some instruction. If the first ones aren’t to our liking, find better instructions.
There’s a waiting period after every step.
Let the water get boiling hot, but don’t let it spew. Anything that gets that hot needs a minute to rest.
Watch the time, and be attentive to the red zone.
Pause and enjoy the bloom. Breathe it in.
When we begin to press through and there’s resistance, it’s normal. Nothing worthwhile should feel like an easy plunge, just continue to gently press.
Was getting up early, and trying once again to make a French Press worth it? You better believe it! That was excellent coffee. Keep trying and be willing to go through some steps to get to where you really want to be.
The cat is curled up on an ottoman nearby and the dogs are lounging in the hallway. The quiet is my sweet spot.
I was at the pizza place lastnight helping out during rush hour. Music was blaring through the speakers in the ceiling, and the guys in the kitchen where sharing loud banter. The phone would ring and I’d answer, trying to sound composed in all the noise.
The noise level was intense for about an hour and then it all died down. Sitting here this morning I realized I can get the job done within the uproar of the noise, but where I really hear what feeds my soul, is in the quiet.