Last weekend I was in Temecula for a wedding. Change the city and I’m confident several of these emails start with the same prompt. If it weren’t for weddings, not sure what I’d write about. I’m glad my wife has friends.
Anyway, I found myself at a coffee purveyor the morning after, staring at the roasts available for pourover. Kenyan or Ethiopian? Notes of sour plum or milk chocolate? I defaulted to the cashier, and she favored the Ethiopian, saying, “It’s better; I used it at home every day for six months straight.” Sold.
Impatiently, I watched my cup of Ethiopian appear drop after drop through the V60; and I asked questions to pass the wait. Which grinder do they use? What temperature is the water? Where do the Ethiopian blueberry notes come from? She fielded them kindly and answered with humble assurance. As I walked out, I took a sip and felt alive. Enough so, I went back in and bought a 12 oz bag.
Back in Asheville, I ground the beans to the barista’s coarseness, poured 200 degree water into my own v60, and lowered my nose to waft the “bloom”. The whole thing was bliss. I read about pourover coffee science for the next thirty minutes.
I say all that to say this: none of that would’ve happened a year ago. Last year, I would’ve walked in, got whatever drip coffee was already brewed, and my V60 would’ve collected dust. Why? Because my life didn’t have space for curiosity. Space to grow. Space to stake a bit of myself in something, due to my daily war to survive inside of a job I never really wanted (and life I couldn’t own).
When regular experience is generative in the adventure of our life, read those tea leaves (or coffee beans), serving as not so trivial talismans toward aliveness. Another such sign was my first sight of the Appalachian Mountains and my immediate unbridled stoke, which led to this week’s article, 5 Hard Lessons in Two Cross-Country Moves (This Year).
For me, sustainable joy is in the ordinary. But the ordinary is only joyous when I create the space to be myself (and own what that takes).
To living a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
(P.S. My wife and I launched a furniture refurbishing operation. If you’d like to watch the things we’re doing to wood, follow us on Instagram or Facebook.)