Just a cup of coffee, thanks...

“Life is really simple, but we insist 

on making it complicated.”

- Confucius

It begins somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00AM. 

I stumble out of bed and head for the coffee maker – flip the switch, then do a few essential routine things and head back to the kitchen. By now the coffee is done and I settle in for a little morning reading or writing. 

This habit has begun most of my days for years…The morning is a good time to quietly engage the day…no phones…no email…little sound…cats wandering into the living room one by one like little children ready to eat and begin their morning too.

Today for some reason, I began think about that coffee, or rather the way we used to prepare it in our home. 

In the beginning of our marriage, we bought it already ground in a can, or from time to time milled some beans at the store for a little better brew… 

That is when we were young and the coffee was pretty good. 

Things began to change...

One year we received a Christmas gift of whole bean coffee.  In truth, I was uncertain what to do. While new to us, we discovered many stores carried small machines with whirring blades that ground the beans, and right there at home, we could…you know, make a better cup of coffee.  Directly participating in the preparation process seemed to make the coffee taste a little better…I think.

This led to joining a coffee club where special coffees arrived at our door on a regular basis, because after all, if you have a coffee grinder, you should have better beans…

As time went on, we learned a little more and a blade whirring grinder was not enough. We found there were variable speed (multiple setting) burr grinders.  No spinning blades here, no sir; rather little crushers that could be set to deliver the grounds from finely cut to course, depending upon what kind of coffee you wanted to drink.  As everyone knows, uniform particle size is VERY IMPORTANT!

How important?  Well, we next discovered the Café frais de presse (French Press)…a more thoughtful flavor than simple filter drip coffee that requires a finer size granule!  The coffee tasted a little better…I think.

Then there was more...
After this came the espresso machine.  Thank God we had found that burr grinder and could make an even finer grain.   Espresso, what a deal! It was great as a straight up shot, or as the base for lattes and cappuccinos…fun to drink and easy to make – well except for steaming that milk!  There was the small problem that one could make only one cup at a time (great when you are alone), but I suppose when you are sophisticated about certain things, what is a little inconvenience.  I mean the coffee tasted a little better…

Finally, in our drive for a better cup of coffee, we found a maker into which whole coffee beans could be placed in the evening just before going to bed.  The beans were sealed in the top of the coffee maker…timer set, and at the appropriate early morning hour the machine would grind the beans, make the coffee in a sealed carafe holding the elixir of morning consciousness hot and ready when we got up!  Well there was the issue of that irritating grinding sound that seemed to permeate every inch of the house.  A small sacrifice, because how much fresher could one make a cup of coffee – I think. 

Over time, however we discovered with our increasing ability to make a little more exotic coffee – if one may call anything, settled firmly in the center of a middle class life, exotic – we were spending a lot of time prepping for what, in my view, amounted minimally increased quality of flavor.

Now there is less...
In the end, with all our coffee experience over several decades, we have come to this. Gone are the grinders and burr cutters…. gone are the French Press devices…gone the espresso machines…and gone the auto early morning bean grinding monsters  - a bear to clean!   

We once again buy coffee already ground, pop it in the brewer before we tuck in.  In the morning, I slip into the kitchen – as part of my morning ritual – turn on the coffee maker, and in five minutes have a lovely cup of coffee as a warm companion to my morning (at the moment, this blog).  Simple…workable…time saving – after all, the only thing I really wanted in the morning was a hot cup of coffee.

There is always a little something to learn...

Life is a little like this coffee making business.  It starts out pretty simple, a few beans already ground and a little hot water.  Then it gets more complicated, with whirring blades and burring grinders, special beans and different makers of the brew – yes sir, there is a lot to do in life.

It turns out, as I am into the ‘last quarter’ of the game, I’ve learned a few things one of which is that simple is better!  I have learned that just as things are pretty simple when we are young and uncomplicated…things get pretty simple when we are older. 

The “…are simple …” comes with the territory in the beginning.  

The “…get simple…” comes from a lifetime of experience leading to deliberate choices for less complication. 

I have come to appreciate how easy it is to take those already ground beans and slip them into that little coffee maker.  To be honest, I can’t really tell whether all that work really made a substantially better morning drink.

It has taken a few decades to sort out what works and what does not in life, but in the end, all I really wanted was a good cup of coffee! 

This morning, it’s pretty nice.

- ted

A day to remember...

“After a long pause, one small spot of dimness

was breathed out; it vanished away, and

never returned, leaving the blank,

 clear darkness without a stain.”

- John Brown: Rab and His Friends

February 12^th came on Tuesday this year. 

The morning began like every other…a little coffee to sweep away the cobwebs from the night’s restful sleep, and some quiet moments reading or doing a little writing.

Unlike most other mornings, it was a little more somber… with delicate sensory awareness that escorts one visited by an unseen presence…a heightened sense of mindfulness not often accompanying the first opening of my eyes. Of little doubt it was different than my normal attempts to engage the daily world of reality…I mean, it is the world of reality isn’t it?

Three hundred sixty-five days before…

Last year February 12^th occurred on a Sunday…Sunday morning, February 12^th had been preceded by a lengthy and sleepless night.  It had been a long flight the day before and while the slender aluminum tube soared at 35,000 ft. (10.6km) through the clouds heading east, coffee was not necessary to keep me awake. 

I arrived in the evening and headed straight to the hospital.  The room was quiet, in spite of a number of people in it.  It was just another room, like the others in the hallway…the lights low…the slight aseptic aroma in the air.  In many ways, it seemed an odd sort of departure gate…a strange place to say good-bye.

She lay in the bed, less than a shadow of her former self…a wraith in process of waiting…waiting as those of us present…for the transition.

Back it up a little…

The email had come on Wednesday, December 9^th in our second winter in San Diego.  By then I knew the Beach Boys were stretching the truth a bit when they sang, “It never rains in Southern California”…it was raining hard.  The weatherman said to expect the heaviest rainfall at the end of the week, particularly after dark.

Heavy rain…more after dark – a metaphor for the note I was about to read and the gathering storm I was to understand, had already been well underway.  I had been copied on the email that arrived like an unexpected lightening strike next to your bedroom window – exceedingly bright…extremely loud!

Mariah,

I hope this is still your email address.  I'm writing because Sarah and I have both had distressing conversations with your mom and we're feeling a little unsure of how to handle them appropriately.  I guess what we want to know is, what can we do to be most helpful?  We're more than happy to listen and be supportive of her if that's all she really needs.

I know this is an extremely difficult situation and we want to help, rather than hinder, what you need to achieve.

Thanks.

Karen

What did this mean?  I picked up the phone and called Mariah.  After a brief conversation, I dialed another number and heard an unfamiliar voice, “Hello, this is Karen.”  Karen was fellow worker and Nancy's good friend.  As the conversation progressed, it was clear that my sister was in trouble…much more trouble than we could have imagined.

As Karen’s story began to unfold, I was thinking, “I’m sorry, are you talking about my sister Nancy??”

Nancy…the brightest and best of our family.  Nancy…the rock that everyone goes to when they have a need.  Nancy…the girl I grew up with and who for our whole lives had a deeply resonant sibling rhythm. 

Karen indicated Nancy called she and Sarah on a regular basis, and that the conversations had become more and more angry and disjointed.  They simply were not sure what to do.

All of this was completely disorienting and seemed completely out of sync…like a rapid fact-filled early morning conversation before you are really awake…a dream…a mist that would clear with the morning’s dawn…a dawn that, in this case would never come.

Signs, subtle signs…

We knew there had been issues developing, but they seemed more stress related than anything else.   Nance and I talked regularly on the phone…conversations a little more focused on her growing unrest with work.  While it seemed a little uncharacteristic, I rationalized.  After all, Molly and I had moved to Michigan – then California, Mariah had left home for Undergraduate/Graduate School then work in St. Louis, and Nancy was now living alone at home with Riley her dog.  It seemed natural that as the family moved away there would be some distress.

In her professional life, she had thrived on adversity and problem solving.  As a lot of professional women do, she had fought the battles for success through a male dominated system.  Her consistent success had been due to her intellect, business/social acumen, rich professional experience and an unwillingness to be outworked.  Now it seemed, something was different and she wasn’t happy about it.

On reflection, there were a number of other things that seemed a little out of focus.  She had taken a road trip to Ohio to visit friends, only to return home without having seen them.  On a visit to Detroit, she had gotten confused on the Interstate and needed a little help to finish the trip.  There were other markers along the way, but they did not seem noteworthy enough to set off big alarm bells.  She had always been independent and self-reliant…these things were just small hiccups in an otherwise normal life…right?  I mean, really!  She was only 59 years old!

We could NOT have been more wrong!

What Karen shared hit with the abruptness of jumping into a cold lake on a hot summer’s day…breath taking and shocking to the system.  Here, however, there would be no accommodation to the waters…no quick exercises to bring back steady breaths.  These waters were claustrophobic, lethal and as we would learn in the coming days and months…more and more toxic.

Sunday, February 12, 2012…

It was now early afternoon as she lay quietly breathing in ever-shallower breaths.  Being in this room defied reason…the overwhelming desire to deny every thing about the day, the moment, the life ebbing away with the unrelenting pull of the withdrawing tide…a cognitive dissonance so extreme as to cause a still birth of rational thought.  All one could do was go with it…simply go with it…

At 3:45PM CST, my sister exhaled her last breath, and with a gentle dignity…quietly expired.  This moment is hard to express in words – God knows I have tried.  At least for me, there are none that adequately communicate even the smallest sense of the oceans of emotion…the immeasurable volume of thought and no voice with which to express, nor hands with which to write…an impotence so overwhelming nothing could be done but give wholly to the moment, and pray when the emotional ride came to an end, there would be solid ground upon which to place my feet. 

In that moment we said good-bye and bon voyage into the hands of the angels and the heart of the Almighty God.

Tuesday, February 12^th, 2013

As the time drew close, I created a text for Mariah…it was sent at 3:45PM CST to remind us both of an indescribable moment of common linkage to this woman who had influenced us so, and remains richly in our hearts.

Tuesday, February 12^th, 2013 was a good day…it was a meaningful day…it was an edifying day…a day of celebration.

- ted

Compliments count...

“Those that have, can…

Those that do not have so often do”

- Anonymous

The teacher from a small school had won an award and had been asked to give an acceptance speech.  When he got to the part where he thanked the people most meaningful in his life – he thanked the mailman behind the counter at the Penn State University Post Office…a fellow, by the way he had not really known that well.

According to the news report, “Mike the Mailman” (Mike Herr) has worked that mailroom since 1978.  Students and others stand in long lines for him for two reasons:

1.     To post a letter/package or buy stamps, and

2.     To engage his enthusiasm and positive attitude

The young teacher said, the small moments he engaged this man at the post office had been inspirational to him and had shaped his life.  It was Mike’s attitude that was a role model and inspired him.

The news report went on to say, some people come to buy stamps when they don’t need them, simply because Mike brightens their day – everyone gets an uplifting or joyful comment.

·      “Great looking shoes.” 
·      “Did you paint those nails yourself?  Nice job!”
·      “The wrapping on that package is excellent!”

When asked why, for more than three decades, people have been drawn to the Post Office and stand in sometimes long lines just to interact with him, Mike says he doesn’t really know…he is just being himself.  This is part of the magic…or rather the meaningful rhythm of the universe…finding and being one’s self.

In a society filled with consumption and status, this fellow with little more than a smile and consistent appreciation for those in front of him…makes a difference.  There seems little doubt he does so for others, but he also makes a difference for himself.

Not just Mike…

This brings us to my friend Uffe and taxi drivers.  He and I have had conversations about how the small, unanticipated kindnesses make differences in people’s lives.  We have recounted to each other what they have meant to us. 

A few years ago, he began chatting with taxi drivers in Copenhagen where he works.  He asks them how its going…how long they have been driving…has it been a long day, and other things if he has a little more time.  He has heard many interesting stories, but what is even better is the way he feels after interacting with these folk.  Like Mike the Mailman, Uffe knows an important life secret. 

It has two parts.

The first …

We often sacrifice much in the way of our time to make ourselves appear more attractive to others through education, appearance, economic status, political loyalty, and more.  A lot of time and energy is spent on this.  It is amazing, however, what a small unexpected word of kindness and edification toward another human being can do for their spirit…their moment of fatigue…their unspoken need to be appreciated.  This part of the secret must happen first – taking a moment to edify another human being…a ‘random act of kindness’ if you will.

Next!

The second…

The deal is this – and this is important.  We get a greater reward in the giving – in the language of business…a multiple!  Invest a dollar and get a percentage gain in the deal.  It makes sense, but there is an important criterion to make it actually work.  Unlike business, when we give in this context, it must be freely given from the heart, without an expectation of reward – a paradox, because the reward comes only when we are not seeking it.

Everything we do has, at some level, ‘self’ interest involvement/motivation.  If it is one-sided it is ‘selfish,’ where our interest is personal gain or attention.  One reason we often feel empty is that we expect a reward, not for excellence, but simply for doing - a ‘we deserve’ mindset.  In reality, we deserve nothing…nothing but the opportunity to act.  We receive according to what we give.  While it is true rewards and attention come from doing things purposefully to be seen or for attention, no prize will satisfy – the more we get, the more we want because that kind of reward does not fill the void, no matter how successful.  Some argue this is just the way the world works.  Mike and Uffe might disagree.

They understand there is a different kind of self-gain.  The kind that comes when giving simply because it feels right – not selfish, but selfless.  It is here, and only here where the secret can be fully realized.

My friend Uffe and Mike the Mailman have learned from experience, the real return in life comes only when they first give of their spirit to another living creature.  Receiving on its own is not unpleasant, but it is not fully rewarding, for it is an event, and in some ways not satisfying.  Giving of oneself to another creates a dialogue of the human spirit…it becomes the great equalizer where what we do, where we’re from, the culture or gender we represent, all drift away as we find our common humanity.

Giving without expectation is the first step in the feedback loop of receiving…a conversation rather than a monologue…finding, even creating moments of common ground, is one of the deep and richest secrets of life.

Mike the mailman was asked ‘why’ he did this. He said he didn’t know; it was just the way he was.  That was the wrong question.  Ask my friend Uffe ‘why,’ and he might say a similar thing. 

The real question?  “Mike/Uffe, how does it make you feel when you do this?”  While the answer can only be surmised for Mike, Uffe would say, “I feel energized…connected…alive…a part of life…better.” 

Over the shoulder…

I am entering the final quarter of my life, and I suppose it is natural to ask questions that are more philosophic or spiritual in nature.  A large part of the journey now completed, there is a lifetime over which to reflect…mistakes made…lessons learned.

There is much for which I am grateful…many places I have seen that have caused wonder in my heart and elevated my soul…experiences never anticipated nor expected.  And yet, the thing that continues to gratify me the most are the small, unseen human interactions where the cables of life connect to another human being in short, intimate moments of edification.

If you take a few moments to reflect, I am confident you will have little trouble distinguishing between rewards sought for self, and rewards received from the human connection. Those brief moments when the invisible satellite channels of open communication link us with others is where life really happens. Dropping small pebbles of humanity into other’s lives create ripples that go, who knows where.  If they go no further than the two beating hearts connected in the moment – for me it is enough.

On the other hand, those small ‘pebbles of life’ dropped into the mind of another might change everything about them…and us.

- ted

"Do what you have to do..."

“A friend is, as it were, a second self.”

- Marcus Cicero: On Friendship

The intensive care unit is not a place anyone really wants to be, either as a patient or visitor…and yet there we were – Vancouver General Hospital.  When I arrived, we went directly to see him.

The small figure lying in bed belied his ‘bigger than life’ personality.  He was attached to wires measuring the status of his heart, a trachea tube helping him breathe, and an arterial line dialyzing his kidneys to keep him from retaining too much water…a bionic man – not with super powers…just trying to keep him alive.

How this started…

A few months before, on the cusp of taking an overseas trip, he had the stroke, and suddenly, the total focus of his life changed.  Significant illness or unanticipated life threatening events, simplify life pretty quickly…and so his life got pretty simple, pretty quickly.  The focus? Get better!  And so he did until a little more than two weeks ago, when while sweeping the floor at home he went into cardiac arrest.

Only the quick thinking of his youngest son Jin doing cardiac compressions and Jin’s wife Alana making the emergency call, kept him alive long enough for firemen and the ambulance medics to get him to the hospital cardiac unit.

Sally, his wife, was heading home from China…

The Call…

Chung Hao, the eldest son had been updating me; we had just spoken on the weekend.  I wondered out loud whether I should come up to see him, but it seemed he was coming along...maybe I would wait until he had recovered and we could have some quiet quality time.

“Do you want the good news first or the bad news?”  Chung said Tuesday.  I hesitated long enough for him to say, “Let me give you the good news.”  In truth, I didn’t want either because I knew by the tone and the question; even good news would be littered with uncertainty.  Chung said, his father had been doing pretty well and seemed to be responding better every day.  The bad news?  He had crashed late in the weekend and had to be moved from the cardiac unit to the ICU. 

I made the flight reservation for Thursday morning.  Sally was right when she later said, “You wanted to see with your own eyes…”

Who is this man?

WingLee Cheong, or more properly in the Chinese tradition of name order Cheong WingLee and I met when he was running a company that made exercise technology I used in the treatment of chronic back and neck pain.  We started off, not so much adversaries, but rather with a little tension. 

A small group of us had raised some venture capital money for a back pain injury prevention company, and invited WingLee to meet with us.  We would be using equipment from his company, so it seemed like a good idea to get to know him.  After the initial meeting we had dinner at a partner’s home, where Wing suggested our business plan was not so good…a strange thing for a man who would benefit from our business to say.  In time, I would learn that frankness was simply part of who Wing was.  You would seldom be unclear as to what he was thinking.

A few weeks later we found ourselves at a conference together and spent some time chatting – not about business, but about life…our lives and families.  Somehow, from that conversation we connected and developed a relationship…a friendship that for me became as meaningful as any I have ever had.

In the early years of knowing Wing, I was part of a spiritual community in Missouri.  He decided he wanted to visit this place and see who these people were.  That visit became the first of many as he became an adopted member of my personal and church family. 

Welcome to the world…

In addition he brought me into his family, and opened doors to the most exotic of life experiences.  We traveled to Taiwan, to China, to Singapore more than once…to cultures and peoples I had only touched in my imaginations.  He taught me to eat fish head, bean curd, chicken/duck feet, Congee, 100-year-old egg, pigeon, Durian, and so many other foods I had never heard of.  He seemed to love to share the rich heritage of Asian Culture with his ‘Guailo’ (qwhy-low: meaning Caucasian) friend.  He would say, “See, Westerner’s think people in China are not happy because many are poor.  Do these people look unhappy?”

He had two bases of operation the years we traveled in Asia: His home and family in Vancouver, and a little later, an efficient condo in Guangzhou China.  “Cannot” and “won’t” had little place in his vocabulary, and he is the single most optimistic human being I have ever met!  Lemonade from lemons??  When lemons came his way, his lemonade was the best!

Short visits on a short trip…

He was sedated on the first visit, and after an hour or so, we headed to Jin’s home where I rested before going to dinner with the family.  The family – Sally, the matriarch…Chung and Jin the sons…Lynn the daughter…Alana, Jin’s wife.  There are not words to express how amazing and giving these people are.  Different cultures…different races, and yet…and yet we are really not very different at all.

After eating, it was back to the hospital where Wing was a little more responsive, and it seemed he recognized me.  The next day I saw saw him twice…in the morning and later in the evening.  Only two family members could visit at a time, so we tag-teamed in and out…Lynn and I took the first visit.

A time to pray…

We had been with him for a while; Lynn looked up and asked if I wanted to pray for him.  I said yes, gently took his hand, and asked God to give him strength…to bring as much peace as possible to Wing and the family as he found himself balancing between life and death.  Then I went to that rich place…a place where words fail…a place I had found over decades in a scripture teaching ministry…a place so familiar…so intimate…so comforting…like putting on that old, familiar pair of tennis shoes.  You know, the ones that make you feel just right!  I asked in that meaningful language of the angels for God to take from me whatever Wing might need…whatever I might be able to give…

And then I was gone…

The next morning after breakfast, we stopped by the hospital on the way to the airport, but were unable to see him. The doctors were doing rounds…I was anxious, and would have to wait to get the news.  It had been a quick trip…

I got the report this morning that the respirator had been removed and Wing was breathing on his own…that he was responsive to questions and seemed more alert.

In the end…or rather in the process, for I am unclear of the end…I am reminded how important we are to one another.  How the fabric of our lives penetrate the lives of others, the bond of which becomes so much more than each individual piece.  I am reminded how deeply we reach into one another’s hearts, and how much we take for granted our breath which is as fragile as the most delicate crystal…

- ted