"mocha-funked"

I have spent the last five months falling in love with sickeningly sweet five-pumped chocolate espresso drinks. Here's the thing though...up until a year ago I was all about a good cup o' tea ...dark enough to look like black coffee but it was still a sheep in sheep's black wool. Drinking coffee is a ritual so enjoyable I feel that, for the rest of my remaining days, it is my duty to make up for lost time. Tea good....coffeeeee....better.

Today, in my pursuit to find an even better cup of mocha I sauntered into a different coffee shop. It had the attitude of a Seattle-sanctioned hot beverage depot; lots of wood, velvet upholstered furniture, tile mosaics, jewel colors to compliment the earthy organic goodies for sale atop the sprawling counter space, chalk boards gushing with delectable breakfast sandwich combinations and enticements for homemade granola, big windows from which to see and be seen, ...all in all perfect decor...things were looking promising.

I should have followed my gut when the mocha-tech took my order with a breath of contempt only one who had made one espresso too many could. There was no evidence of an over-caffeinated twitch lurking from this pre-pubescent brew...but from the first sip, it was clear,  the coffee product was incongruent with the atmospheric perfection.

My conclusions? It's preferable to engage a mocha-guru who has a pleasant disposition, tatoos and piercings. This conveys a comfortable, fully-realized self-image and a dedication to art, no matter what form that may take....mochas included. The full, glorious expression of my sweet, steaming cup of choco-coffee heaven delivered with smiling eye-contact and not the word "NEXT".

Sixty minutes into my mocha-funked state I zipped open my sheep's clothing and let my inner wolf run rabid for ten hours. Praying to find re-alignment amidst this quirky quandary of caffeine I clamored for Granny's night clothes and slipped into bed waiting for Red-Riding hood to arrive.

Gratitude? Universal Heart?.... Eclipsed in the pursuit and irony of trying to ascend the staircase beyond mocha nirvana that I had already attained.

diggin up some dull

Summer 2010 has taken a vastly different route compared to last summers' over programmed mayhem. This summer I have decided to expose my children to the concept of "diggin up some dull". We are leaning into puzzles and lazy days that allow boredom to settle in like a thick blanket of fog....last year this would have caused me to spin into a claustrophobic breathe-into-a-paper-bag panic...this year I am all about allowing my kids to find their own ways to pierce through the veil of boredom in order to reclaim their own power. (Following the "unplug" at 10am I hid all of the lighters and magnifying glasses).
Today's highlight happened to be wandering down a woodland stream bed looking for crayfish, listening to frogs and burying our feet in the sandy bottom.  We lay in the flow looking skyward at the unadulterated early summer leaves that have yet to be scavenged by hungry bugs and draught. The cool creek water infilled our souls with an awe-inspired sense of gratitude and calm.

I have always resisted the possibilities of Boredom. By allowing it however, power lies in it's potential to be a portal into inspiration...into power...into the divine connection with Source.