Learning how not to cry over spilled coffee.

Like many, my day began with an invitation to momentarily lose myself in a freshly brewed, perfectly warm cup of coffee, which my arm managed to inadvertently knock over.

Unfortunately, in spite of my repeatedly ungraceful attempts at redeeming any mouthwatering drop of sanity (i.e. the coffee), I was ultimately forced to watch it flood the counter as a multitude of ideas flooded my mind while I strived to locate any immediately accessible and soluble material. Yet, there was nothing to be found other than the coffee spawning little pools of lost intention that began their inevitable passage towards the streaming waterfall that was now embarking upon its journey down the cabinetry to the newly formed pond that waited below. With each drop of misplaced sanity that struggled its way to this seemingly glorious pond, my mind’s creatively over thinking pattern struggled its way through another ridiculous string of thoughts. Why did this happen to me? Is this karma at play? Is it because I used the travel mug belonging to the one responsible for my recent heartbreak thus leaving it encased in some sort of negative “mojo”? Is this how my day plans to unfold?

Of course, my rambling mind continues and continues and continues, when in reality it is all and none of these things. It did happen, but it also simply happened. It could be negative karma, but I believe the universe has an underlying sense of sickeningly twisted humor that matches mine leading me to also believe my karma is destined to be much more intricately woven than a simple coffee spill. Like falling in love with someone that I can never have. Certainly, my subconscious could easily be responsible for creating a universe in which a travel mug is capable of encompassing such negatively charged energy, but in the end, it is simply just that. A travel mug. And, it could be a precursor to the unfolding of my day or, I could choose to take a deep breath, take it for what it is and move on.

In the end, we (individually or collectively) have the choice of allowing a simple coffee spill or a tragic event to become a roadblock in our day or even our lives. We can choose to wade through these shallow ponds that are continuously overflowing with desperate ideas of how we believe our lives should be or we can accept them for exactly what they are. Experiences to learn and move on from.

Today I accept that I have painted my kitchen with a wonderful new hue that I like to call “cafe au lait,” created entirely by me and my choices to use that specific travel mug while leaving it in that specific place without a lid. In the future, I will be certain to use the lid, to place it in a position safe from my clumsy arms, to refill the paper towel holder when it is depleted and to always ensure there is enough liquid sanity for a future refill as it is destined to happen again. And, I will be certain to live in quiet anticipation for the beauty and humor that is bound to arrive on life’s doorstep, while practicing the art of laughing at myself rather than crying over that which I cannot control.

Besides, I love the smell of coffee.

(I should also add that I drink decaf.)


3 thoughts on “Learning how not to cry over spilled coffee.

  1. Wonderfully and sanely account of a bit of life’s imperfection that makes life perfect. If our days went smoothly, with no hiccups or pauses, what would we remember? What would we cherish? How would we grow our souls? When we sit around with friends, sharing ourselves with others, what is discussed? A perfect moment? A mundane and drab day? No. We share our errors of the day, week or year and we laugh. We laugh true. And that is to be remembered. Thanks Lisa!!! Many memories came back to me while reading this. 😘

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I also feel the need to add that I just came across some of this wonderful coffee that I failed to capture when cleaning the initial spill…life…just when you think you are over something, it finds a way of creeping right back to the forefront.


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