The Daily Grind, Two Ways.

You’re dreaming of something unremembered, when the blaring of a device set in such a way to guarantee waking you brings you back to reality, to another work day. The sun is shining in your bedroom window, predicting another blissful day in Southern California. Without the time to soak up the natural warmth of the sunlight as it floods in to warm your bed, you exchange that leisure awakening for a warm shower instead, meant to shock you awake and get you started for a new day. You rush by the coffee pot and push a button, to stream a liquid medicine into a portable mug, one that is ready as you rush out the door to join others in their morning commute. The drug dilates you to match your already feverish pace. You drive by the same scenery every day, but you don’t notice the scenes, barring a car accident pulled over on the side of the road, or new construction on the outskirts of the freeway. Your mind is elsewhere, on an island far away or on your to-do list, to which you’re driving momentarily. Or your mind is still dreaming of the bed you wish you were laying on, while the gears of your car transport you to where you don’t want to be. You sit at the same desk as you did yesterday, and despite the long hours and the hard work, the pile of boxes on your checklist never decreases. It’s a time machine that takes you back to yesterday. The daily grind, one way.

 

You wake from this nightmare one morning, in time with your natural bodily workings, and only after a full night’s rest. The first sound you hear is of birds chirping outside your window. Slowly turning to your nightstand, you pick up the book you were reading before you fell asleep, and thumb the pages, noticing the way they feel under your fingertips. You read a few pages as you wake, even if you have to re-read a line or two a few times before registering the words. Meanwhile, the sunlight warms you under the heavy comforters, until the heat prompts you to stand. You slip on your warm slippers to protect your feet from the cold floods, and walk downstairs. You savor the smell of pine from the Christmas tree, as the sun light filters onto your dining table, creating glittery fractured fragments as it passes through stained glass windows. You think about coffee. You weigh the appropriate amount of coffee beans on a scale, as you heat up the espresso machine. A bean too many. You return the devilish seed back into its home, saving it for another day. The beans are freshly ground, the smell, enticing and bold. You extract the right amount of espresso, then foam the milk. You pour the milk, and regardless of the outcome, you already know that you’ve created something for yourself. The routine is immersive, the experience entirely sensory. You sip, sit, and stay awhile, with your daily grind, another way.