Bliss
Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls. ~ Joseph Campbell
When I came across this quotation yesterday, I immediately replaced the word bliss with the first thought that came to mind.
Follow the scent of coffee and the universe will open doors where there were only walls.
After sipping a dark chocolate mocha from under a coiled layer of whipped cream, I have actually said, "Bliss." I bet I did it slowly, just to purse my lips, flip my tongue, savor the sweet flavors. The idea completed itself when I realized that today is National Coffee Day.
Opening the doors of coffee shops in my town, I have felt the "Norm-effect." Recently, I walked into my frequent haunt, feeling invisible and rejected. Then, a barista I did not recall said with an elated smile, "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. What can I get you? Your usual?"
In most shops, I write poetry. In some, I read it aloud. In all, I stare out the window and ponder poetry.
I have spent decades in aroma-filled rooms. Book clubs gather by the fireplace. College friends meet monthly. Mom and I stop after shopping or to discuss the latest news. Dad and I discuss his goals and mine. My sons sip or nibble their favorites as we complete schoolwork. My husband humors me and gives his name at the drive-thru as if he plans to drink my order.
I have handed square drink napkins across the table for a friend to wipe her tears. I have used one or two myself at times. I have hugged distant family members and said final goodbyes to one or two. A few long-passed stop by for a memory-visit. Those days all the napkins disappear.
When the coffeehouse doors open, the walls in my life fall away. I leave refilled, and the coffee grounds scent the rest of my day.