life moves fast. to keep up we need to find ways to slow down
“There is an occasion for everything, and a time for every activity under heaven….He has made everything appropriate in its time.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:1, 11
On the rare occasion that someone is present for my extensively researched and practiced process for making a pour-over coffee, the frequent response of said person is: “Wow, that takes a long time.”
But one must ask: A long time in relationship to what?
Reading an entire novel? No, not a long time at all.
Making a stunningly sub-par cup o’ joe with a common drip machine that churns out some brown fluid in just a few minutes? Well, in relationship to that, then maybe what I do takes a “long” time.
But would we not be able to admit — if we appreciate coffee at all — that this is time well spent?
However, dear reader, there is something far more important to note from my “time consuming” coffee making process. Namely, we spend too much time in this life rushing through it, to get to the next thing. We don’t linger. We don’t enjoy. We don’t soak in. And to keep up with life that is truly life, we need to find ways to slow down.
And I love that the Bible recognizes our humanity in this way, instructing us that there is an occasion for everything, a time for every activity under heaven (see above). And not just time as in when we do it, but the time we take in the doing. Knowing that he has made everything appropriate in its time.
Including making a simple cup of coffee in the morning.
And taking the time to make it a really good cup of coffee.
Time that gives space to appreciate all that went into having beans, grinding them, brewing them, enjoying them.
Time to consider the rest of your life as you prepare this God-created elixir that shall fuel the rest of your life.
I’m reading a wonderful novel each night before I retire — A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles. And last night I was transported to a small room at a lavish hotel in the heart of Moscow, where an older gentleman reveled in the remarkable, God-given occasion of slowing down in a life moving so fast, to move through an intentional process of making a simple cup of coffee. Thoroughly enjoyed, wonderfully appropriate in its time, under heaven.
It’s a masterful few paragraphs.
And even if you don’t enjoy coffee — maybe tea is your poison — I think you’ll still find time to enjoy this…..
Count Alexander lyich Rostov stirred at half past eight to the sound of rain on the eaves. With a half-opened eye, he pulled back his covers and climbed from bed. He donned his robe and slipped on his slippers. He took up the tin from the bureau, spooned a spoonful of beans into the Apparatus, and began to crank the crank.
Even as he turned the little handle round and round, the room remained under the tenuous authority of sleep. As yet unchallenged, somnolence continued to cast its shadow over sights and sensations, over forms and formulations, over what has been said and what must be done, lending each the insubstantiality of its domain. But when the Count opened the small wooden drawer of the grinder, the world and all it contained were transformed by that envy of the alchemists—the aroma of freshly ground coffee.
In that instant, darkness was separated from light, the waters from the lands, and the heavens from the earth. The trees bore fruit and the woods rustled with the movement of birds and beasts and all manner of creeping things. While closer at hand, a patient pigeon scuffed its feet on the flashing.
Easing the little drawer from the Apparatus, the Count poured its contents into the pot (which he had mindfully primed with water the night before). He lit the burner and shook out the match. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he did thirty squats and thirty stretches and took thirty deep breaths. From the little cupboard in the corner, he took a small pitcher of cream, a pair of English biscuits, and a piece of fruit (today an apple). Then having poured the coffee, he began to enjoy the morning's sensations to their fullest:
The crisp tartness of the apple...
The hot bitterness of the coffee...
The savory sweetness of the biscuit with its hint of spoiled butter...So perfect was the combination that upon finishing, the Count was tempted to crank the crank, quarter the apple, dole out the biscuits, and enjoy his breakfast all over again.
But time and tide wait for no man. So, having poured the remnants of the coffee from its pot, the Count brushed the biscuit crumbs from his plate onto the window ledge for his feathered friend. Then he emptied the little pitcher of cream into a saucer and turned toward the door with the intention of placing it in the hall—and that was when he saw the envelope on the floor.
Someone must have slipped it under his door in the middle of the night.
Setting the saucer down for his one-eyed friend, he picked up the envelope and discovered…..
(I recommend that you purchase A Gentleman in Moscow to immerse yourself in the rest of the story)
