I have been having a terrible battle with myself over my one perceived habit I simply can't kick: Coffee, the other black gold. I like a strong dark roast, freshly ground, steaming hot, a no frills cup of black deliciousness served in a pretty mug. Ohhhhh baby, a little piece of bliss in the morning. Sometimes at night I get a little twinge of excitement about the goodness that awaits to be prepared in the crisp morning hours. It's nerdy, but so true.
And yet I'm not sure this love of coffee is always loved by my body. Somedays I find my heart racing, or I get the shakes in an early morning yoga class. I have tried to give it up, lasting weeks on end, but the whirrr of the grinder and the aroma of the beans always draws me back.
Some of my favourite moments have been linked to the bevvie. In fact, during the first year of our marriage, I moved away from my man to go to school while he hung back to work. Every morning at the same time we would have a long-distance coffee date, whispering about our days, our hearts, our dreams. It was our own little way of waking up with each other, creating a sense of togetherness when we were miles apart.
So the question remains: if you get tremendous joy out of a habit, is it maybe not so bad? Is it possible that these mini moments of bliss are just that and shouldn't be messed with, or is it simply a desire/attachment I need to move beyond?
OK we're not solving the world's problems here but it's something to ponder.