That's my friend, I'm the creep-toes standing unknowingly above her taking the shot. This is what a good morning looks like in Nashville. The sun percolating through sheer curtains (a great buy from the Franklin antinque mall), surrounded by books (from the little vintage bookstore in Hillsboro) and the scent of coffee stains, pens for moments of ingenius thoughts, and of course a phone...which can be debated as a burden as well as a blessing depending on what you're trying to get done or who's contacting (or not contacting) you. Wink, wink.
(warning: the following may turn into one long tangent as I explain one thing to the next until I have exhausted myself from dealing with any more possible variables, but I promise I'll get to the BEST JOE SO FAR, somewhere...maybe in the middle, like a hidden needle in a haystack...muahahaha.) :/
One of the things I love about a Nashville Sunday morning is the anticipation of getting to go to church. Most cities that I've been to don't place an emphasis on church, which doesn't make it any more or less sincere for the attendees, but Nashville has an atmosphere of normalcy about it, being in the bible-belt it comes as no surprise, but albeit. Now, granted that may have a crippling effect, but in one case (the case for which I will expand on), it emanates a well-spring of joy that starts out as a light mist in a morning without the call of work lingering at the corner, then a refreshing dew on what is usually a routine of "getting ready" to a slowly increasing river of calm that arrives when you really begin to grasp that it's all about drawing near to Love, Himself. Now there are times when certain "distractions" must be dealt with; a person of interest you naturally feel nervous about is at church and you end up having a stressful morning of deciding what to wear or how to organically have your paths cross, or maybe, like me, you're just lazy sometimes. You had a late night (or you didn't), and you just feel like a lump of coal nicely settled between your soft bed cushion and down comforter when you hear your alarm go off, everything mentioned above becomes daunting and uncomfortable. Let's be real, there are more of those kinds of mornings than the great peaceful one I described prior to listing some of the "distractions", and that's actually to be expected. As a Christian, I have my reasons and views for why this is, but from an observational point of view it seems that most good things in life, things that will benefit us in deep and meaningful ways (ie: relationships, jobs, physical/mental health, etc) all come with the need for an intentional effort that fights a rather beastly part of ourselves, which I like to call COMFORT. Others call it Selfishness or Self-centeredness, Fear, Apathy, Depression, or whatever you think most resonates with you, but to get to the point, those things we want most in life most usually require some degree of a fight within ourselves. The degree of the battle depends on the person, but I have yet to meet someone who has their life all-put together and feels that he or she would not change a thing about what they are doing. One person may want to be more healthy, even though no one holds a gun to their head to eat that brownie or deep-fried oreo, they still have the choice. Another may want to be closer to their significant other or even just their friend, but the thought of opening up and being vulnerable is terrifying (especially if, like me, you know that doing so would reveal some rather not-so-pleasant things), not impossible, just terrifying. So, from my experience, when my "distractions" or laziness suddenly come like a kamikaze on what is supposed to be a joyful Sunday morning, I remember to stop and think. I think about history. My history. I think about the effort that I sometimes have to search for painstakingly, a fight that sometimes feels close to death or sometimes just a few nicks and bruises, I recall upon what I know to be true from observation. This recalling sometimes is a battle in itself, since I know that if I lose the will to conjure up effort I will feel like even more of failure for having presented myself with what I know and essentially choosing to run away with my tail between my legs, so maybe if I don't think about thinking I can give myself the excuse of having "forgotten" about everything. Then going back to bed. Usually with a xeric (word of the day! adj: adapted to a dry environment) outlook with impending doom on the horizon. Or maybe that's too dramatic, but that's how I see it sometimes. So, like having a great friend/lover, substantial energy, and superfluous ambition, I would recommend choosing to wake up on a Sunday morning (and speaking ideally, not just on a Sunday, but let's take baby steps). Because in the end, who doesn't want to love and be loved? I don't mean the broken kind of love that we offer to one another, but the love that can be most closely compared to the love of a mother (or father or caretaker) for her child...this could get messy with all the messed up parents out there, for which I am sorry to hear about and which are obviously nothing close to what I am talking about, but like I said it's only a close resemblance, but really it barely begins to cover the amount of love that Love, Himself has for you.
Now, from being at the Frothy Monkey to Sam and Zoes, Fido to Crema, Provence to J and J's Market and Cafe, The Well to Starbucks, a Keurig to Brazilian ground instant coffee, from all of these (and more) places I have tried, I have found the best cup of joe is coincidentally piping cozily in the gleaming silver coffee dispensers at The Village Chapel. :) A perfect blend of subtle to wake you, but keep you at disposition not far from what some would call "zen". Adieu friends.
JmeGrey
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