A Tenuring of Spirit.
I remember working in a small coffee shop on the North Shore of Hawaii. It was a meager wage, given the nature of the work to be done – nonstop from dawn till dusk; though, I was grateful nonetheless.
The coffee roaster would arrive in the earliest hours of morning, well before the first cup was poured. I remember him standing over the glowing coals of the makeshift roaster with wooden paddle in hand, leaning and listening for the sounds of transformation to begin.
“You hear that?” he’d shout over the grinding of roaster blades. “You can’t ever rush it. You have to let ’em tell you when they’re done.”
Most would have considered the job too grueling – particularly, at less than standard wage. And yet, for this wiry old man – the heat, the dust, the aching muscles and dripping sweat – was, in its own way, ‘perfection’.
While some may term this a ‘labor of love’, isn’t it more so a tenuring of spirit? A moment in which longer held ‘truths’ are dispelled, and matters of heart rest in leaves of courage.
We’d talk for hours, he and I – contemplating the wonders of life against the endlessness of horizon. How can one consider as ‘work’ that which ultimately delivers our peace?
Even these much smaller moments, my loves – have the capacity to transform and heal. Surround yourself with these everyday miracles – a blue sky, white fluffy clouds, and a moment shared over coffee with a friend.
A little something to consider, my friends ~ with love and peace…