While the Coffee Brews...A Conversation Around the Coffee Table
I invited a couple of friends over for coffee this morning, and I'd like you to meet them. You know me already, Melodie, an author with an abundant sense of humor and creativity, and I delight in a good conversation.
My good friend Val is a man of impeccable manners, orderly habits, and an unwavering belief that there's a proper time and place for everything. He appreciates a schedule, a well-organized day, and a freshly pressed shirt. He spent decades working for a family in Europe as a butler. Now he’s happily retired.
…and then there's Weaver, something of a wandering philosopher. He's curious, occasionally mischievous, and inclined to follow an interesting thought wherever it leads. Today he's wearing a bow tie with a caramel-colored sweater, an unfortunate fashion decision that Val has already compared to a Werther's Original candy. Weaver enjoys being teased about his fashion sense, don’t let him tell you otherwise.
But I digress, which is not uncommon in my life.
Now that you've met everyone, I'd like to invite you to join us. Pull up a chair and grab a cup of coffee. It's time for a CAWFEE break, a little wordplay inspired by Coffee at Weaver's (CAW), where our conversations have a habit of wandering into unexpected territory.
Our conversation this morning began with a rather ordinary observation.
I'd started the coffee pot and immediately sat down at my computer. There were a few minutes before the coffee would be ready, and before my friends would arrive. Rather than simply waiting, I began writing out an idea for a children's book character.
As Val and Weaver arrived, a thought occurred to me. What do we do while the coffee brews?
At home, we might check our emails, get dressed, unload the dishwasher, or prepare breakfast. At the office, we might sort through the mail, review our schedules, or visit with coworkers while waiting for that first pot. We find something to do because, well, there's time to do it.
And that my friend is how we found ourselves talking about time. Not how much we have, how quickly it passes, or how we might squeeze a few more productive minutes out of our day. We began wondering what we actually do with the time we're given. Here’s how our conversation went…
Val started it off. "Why waste perfectly good minutes when there are things to be accomplished?"
"But are those minutes wasted simply because we haven't filled them?" Weaver asked.
Val considered the question. "Surely you're not suggesting we stand about doing absolutely nothing?"
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because, Melodie, there are responsibilities to attend to."
"And there always will be," Weaver replied. "But does every available moment require a responsibility?"
I glanced toward the kitchen, where the coffee was still brewing. "Well, gentlemen, while we consider that question, I think I'll make myself a toasted peanut butter and honey sandwich."
Val raised an eyebrow. "Madam, you have just made my argument for me."
"Perhaps," I replied. "Or perhaps I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I'm simply hungry. Does anybody else want anything while I am up?”
"That's where we should begin," Weaver said. "Not with what the clock tells us we have time to do, but with what the moment actually calls for."
Val leaned forward. "I would argue that using time wisely is one of our greatest responsibilities. We all have the same twenty-four hours in a day, after all."
"Do we?" I asked.
Val looked puzzled. "Well, mathematically speaking, yes."
"But we don't all experience those hours the same way," I replied. "Some people work best in the early morning, others late at night. Some need a full hour away from their work to recharge, while others, like me, would rather have several shorter breaks throughout the day."
"Precisely," Weaver agreed. "We organize our days around the clock, but our minds and bodies don't necessarily operate according to its schedule."
"Without schedules," Val countered, "how would anything get accomplished? Businesses have hours of operation. Appointments must be kept. Responsibilities require structure."
"And that's perfectly reasonable," I said. "I'm not suggesting we abandon schedules or ignore responsibilities. I'm wondering whether we've become so accustomed to watching the clock that we've forgotten to listen to ourselves."
Val considered this while reaching for his coffee. "Go on, madam."
"Think about the way we take breaks," I continued. "We often wait until a scheduled time to step away from our work. But what if we recognized when our minds needed a change of pace? What if, instead of waiting for the clock to give us permission, we learned to recognize our own natural rhythms?"
Weaver nodded. "And sometimes that change of pace might be a walk, a conversation, or a few moments of quiet. It doesn't always have to be an hour away from the desk."
"Surely you're not suggesting we simply stop working whenever the mood strikes?" Val asked.
"Not at all," Weaver replied. "But there's a difference between working within a structure and becoming so governed by it that we overlook what we need."
I took an intentionally long, slow, sip of coffee. "There's another side to this, gentlemen. What about the moments when we're not actually required to do anything?"
Val raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"Well, while the coffee brews, for example. Or while we're waiting for the microwave, sitting in a doctor's office, or standing in line at the grocery store. How often do we immediately reach for our phones or look for something productive to do?"
"Quite often, I should imagine," Val admitted.
"And why?" I asked. "Why do we feel the need to fill every available minute?"
"Perhaps," Weaver offered, "because we've confused being occupied with being productive."
"And being productive with being purposeful," I added.
Val looked thoughtful. "An interesting distinction. Although I would still maintain that time is too valuable to waste."
"Agreed," Weaver replied. "But who decides what constitutes wasting it?"
There was a brief silence.
Val set his cup on its saucer. (Weaver and I drink from mugs, we’re not that refined apparently!)
"You know, this conversation reminds me of something in Ecclesiastes. Chapter three tells us there is a time for everything under heaven. A time to plant, a time to harvest, a time to weep, and a time to laugh."
"That's a rather interesting passage for you to bring up, Val," I said.
"Why so, madam?"
"Because you've been defending the importance of schedules and structure. But isn't Ecclesiastes also reminding us that different moments call for different things?"
"Indeed," Val replied. "I've always understood it as a reminder that life has an appropriate order. There is a proper time for everything."
"Including doing nothing?" I asked.
Val hesitated. "I don't recall that particular activity being mentioned."
Weaver smiled. "Perhaps because doing nothing isn't necessarily the same as accomplishing nothing."
Val picked up his cup again, but didn’t take a sip. He looked thoughtfully out of the window. "Hmm. I confess, that's a distinction I haven't given much consideration."
"Tell me something, Val," I asked. "When was the last time you simply sat and enjoyed a cup of coffee without thinking about what you needed to do next?"
Val looked down at his cup. "Well, I..."
He paused. "I cannot honestly recall."
"Then perhaps," I suggested, "we should try something."
"And what might that be, madam?"
"Nothing."
Val put his cup back on the saucer and blinked. "Nothing?"
"Absolutely nothing. Just for a moment. Let's enjoy our coffee."
Weaver smiled and leaned back in his chair. For a little while, nobody spoke.
Sunlight danced across the leaves of the magnolia tree outside the window. A landscaper was mowing nearby, trucks passed along the road, and a neighbor's voice drifted through the morning air. Inside, three clocks ticked away, each with its own distinctive rhythm, interrupted by the familiar clatter of the refrigerator making ice.
The world was anything but silent. Life continued all around us, with its ordinary sounds and activities.
Yet here we sat, three friends enjoying our coffee, without feeling the need to do anything else. The world hadn't stopped. We had. For a moment, we were simply enjoying being part of it.
Eventually, Val broke the silence. "Well, I must say, that was rather enjoyable."
"Did you accomplish anything?" Weaver asked with a grin.
"Not a blessed thing, sir."
"And was the time wasted?"
Val smiled. "I suppose not."
I lifted my cup again. "There's something else I've been thinking about. We can spend so much time anticipating something that we rush right through it when it finally arrives."
"Such as?" Weaver asked.
"This coffee, for instance. How many mornings do we look forward to that first cup, only to drink it while answering emails, getting dressed, or rushing out the door? We enjoy the idea of having coffee, but do we actually enjoy drinking it?"
Val studied the contents of his cup.
"An excellent observation, madam. I must admit I've frequently finished a cup without giving much thought to its flavor."
"Exactly," I said. "And I wonder how many other things we experience that way. Meals, conversations, a beautiful morning, even time with people we love. We're present physically, but our minds have already moved on to whatever comes next."
"Perhaps," Weaver said, "we've become so concerned with making the most of our time that we've forgotten to experience it."
Val nodded slowly. "Then I suppose the clock can tell us when to stop, but it cannot always tell us when we need to pause."
"Nor can it tell us what makes a moment worthwhile," I added.
Weaver raised his cup. "To allowing a pause."
Val raised his own. "And to using time wisely, even when wisdom calls for doing absolutely nothing."
I smiled and joined them. "To good coffee, good company, and moments worth savoring."
I glanced around the table. Our coffee mugs, and Val’s cup were nearly empty, although none of us seemed particularly concerned about the time. "Anyone care for more coffee?” I asked, rising from my chair. “Val, Weaver, Guest?”
"That would be most appreciated, madam," replied Val, carefully lifting his cup from its saucer.
"Weaver?"
"Perhaps in a minute," he said, getting up and wandering toward the patio door. "I think I'll step outside for a bit."
He opened the door, letting in the sounds of the morning. The landscaper was still mowing, and somewhere down the street a truck rumbled past.
"Quite a busy world out there," he observed.
"Indeed," Val replied. "I suppose we ought to be getting on with our day eventually."
"Eventually," Weaver agreed, stepping onto the patio.
I poured Val's coffee and refilled my own mug before settling back into my chair. I savored the first sip and kept my hands wrapped around the warm mug.
Val turned toward our guest. "I should be most interested to hear your perspective on our discussion."
Weaver leaned back through the open doorway. "Yes, we've done quite enough talking. What have you been thinking about?"
I smiled, lifted my mug, and looked toward the fourth chair. "We’re so glad you took the time to join us. What do you think?”
Seriously, I’d love to know what you think. Please send me a note through the Contact Melodie page and let’s keep the conversation going. With your submissions, and permission, maybe I’ll write another piece because another perspective is always welcome here!
Yes a digital image of our CAWFEE session this morning, but you get the picture, right?!
