Sitting in a coffee house watching the subtle soap operas and tele-novellas [depending what language they were in] unfold all around me. They are nearly as delicious as the artisan-crafted cappuccino I had been coveting. A true coffee house is a veritable dutch oven of drama or cauldron of comedy– basically… they are filled with all sorts of flavors of human experience and you just have to take the time to savor them.
Now, let me preface that one has to situate themselves inside a TRUE coffee house in order to truly appreciate what I am talking about. Really, only in a true coffee house will you have the chance to truly examine this fascinating peetrie dish of chock full of fabulous fodder that can lead to satiating self-reflection. Don’t go trying this a some coffee depot or distribution plant such as the Starbucks’ or Coffee Beans. They can be relied on for what they do with formulaic precision, but they lack the laid back and lingering atmosphere of the local coffee house.
Case in point. On this particular day, as I sat there serenely sipping away, one of the single sisters sitting to my side started on this soul-searching soliloquy. [I am pretty sure that the alliteration was in place at the time and not merely the unusual mechanics of my mind] ?!?!
Anyway, alliteration aside [no seriously] - So here she was ‘soliloquy-ing’ [new word, whatever] on her search for a soul whose entire being could match her grounded, contented, non-judgmental soul. It was inspiring to listen to this grounded soul wax poetic on the virtues of self truth and her hard-earned badge of inner-honesty. Her point of view seemed almost inspired. So, now I’m thinkin’ — this sister is sounding more like a saint then a soul-searching single, which naturally triggers my curiosity. I start to wonder, why this would be saint is actually a soul-searching single, it all seemed rather odd, but what do I know, right?
Well, I sip sip waiting for some insight as to what kept the soul-full saint single and searching for that super soul, and then it happens…
The saint began callously cutting on a cast of characters who had foolishly attempted to dock on her own private proverbial island and how she quickly and quite masterfully cast each one of the wanna-dockers away. I listened with a heightened sense of intrigue as she descibed each wanna-docker or candidate as more aesthetically challenged or emotionally stunted than the next.
What happened to the grounded goddess of inspiring inner honesty? Seriously? What the hell just happened? I sat there shocked, stunned, stupefied. She did not utter a single, solitary squeak of any self-aware anecdotes on her own shortcomings. Nope… just dicta on the deficits of the wanna-dockers. AHA! So, the sins of the silly little soul-searching saint had finally surfaced. Now the secret was out. She was certainly no saint, merely full of shit! Huh. Well, that certainly makes more sense, but oh what a shame.
So, what flavor did it add to the falula soup? – Objectivity provides the best view of the big picture. Much like a good soup… you have the best chance of creating a working (and winning) recipe when you look at all the dimensions of your ingredients. Bottom Line: Make sure you examine all your ingredients and know what flavors might develop in your soup.. or you might end up with a stew full of shit!
Well, that’s what I got out of it.
