I hold important meetings at a reclusive corner at Firewheel branch.
I gather my blog thoughts at the Garland centre joint.
I meet to sort out issues at the Renner Lookout place.
In three months, I finished my dissertation at the Campbell club.
Why do my thoughts flow profusely while ingesting roasted scent? There is something about coffee traffic that moves my caps to think well and deep. Some of my most delicious converse with people were over a demitasse. Is there some enchantment that has somehow bewitched me to visit each time I go for some involved task?
The world I live in is protean. Change is not only frequent, it happens with impunity. I find deep longing for stability through all my competing allegiances. Everywhere I go, I seem hauled by some bullet-train racing towards oblivion. My café rendezvous halts this.
There is something settling each visit. I get the reset.
English teacher Jerry Baldwin, history teacher Zev Siegl, writer Gordon Bowker, and witty Howard Schultz had a good glimpse on what truly pulls me. I crave for pure recess.
Like most North Americans, my days are lived from the front-end of Market economy. Everyone has to rise early and stay up late. The work load relentlessly drives free-spirited servants to run the capitalistic spirit. We get toy compensations and hospital provisions, just so we can work heavy again and again. The Great Dream is to reach retirement at some Island where work is done and life finally takes over.
Starbucks is up to something deep. When barista Scott calls out my name: "hot Chai Soy Latte, six pumps, no water, with a hint of vanilla for Russell," I get my virtual transport to Balesin Island. I am ushered to a whiff of rest. A quiet that I wish lasts longer than my sip.
Rather interestingly, When my Alpha beckons me to enter his place of rest, he provides more than ambient coffee.
He serves Himself, the aroma never dissipates and I never have to scan the Apple pay.