Coffee and coming full circle

by Amy

Our first blog was about coffee, croissants, and friends who listen, encourage and empower us.

I wrote about croissants and promised to write about coffee at some other point in time.

It seems fit that as I feel the blog winding down, and am preparing to say goodbye, the coffee is what I have come back to.

When I wrote that first post, a year and a half ago, I didn't drink coffee. Now I do. Too much of it maybe.

I always thought coffee was for grownups. I'd drink soda, sparkly water, water, fruity teas... not coffee.

I may have grown up in more ways than one, then. I love coffee. And black tea with a splash of milk and maybe even a spoon of sugar when I'm indulging myself. And lattes. And cappuccinos. And... I'm sure you get the picture.

This blog has been a gift in finding my voice and in learning to listen to myself.

The first post has Clara and Jane sitting in a cafe and Jane is telling Clara about her aspirations, whispering, because telling another means she will no longer be able to hide it from herself. Confession of a dream or an aspiration brings both the joy of sharing a dream, but also the accountability inherent in having someone else know...

This blog has been a place where I have shared aspirations and dreams and goals. Lofty ones. Like:

"But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs." (Middlemarch - George Elliot)

It has been a place to stretch my muscles and seek my voice.

It has been a place I have come to to hear myself and to read myself and to try to reach into those recesses that I would rather pretend did not exist. I usually need to "think out loud". This blog was a place where I was allowed to think out loud and I very much appreciate it.

"I'd like to know your thoughts."
She said, "I'm still thinking. Maybe I'll tell you when I'm done."
He laughed. "I'll look forward to it. But you might never get done, you know. Thinking is endless." (Lila - Marilynne Robinson)

Thank you for sharing this journey.

I have learned SO much about food. I went from barely being able to cook and cooking only occasionally to now being competent in the kitchen (nothing like Libby, but I can feed people much better now!).

I have learned so much more about myself. I may like myself less sometimes (you can't un-know your darkness once you face it), but I think I love myself more. In coming to terms with my humanity, I have been learning to find the strength that comes from weakness, imperfection, and Grace.

Thank you for cheering me on throughout this journey... and for your encouragement and listening ear.

I think this is goodbye - at least for now.

Cafe au Lait and Greatness

by Amy

"Greatness? You'd consider Augustin Renaud that? I was under the impression you and the other members of the Camplain Society considered him a kook."

" Aren't most great people? In fact, I think most of them are both brilliant and demented and almost certainly unfit for polite society. Unlike us."

I think Émile is a great character. Don't you?

I love how he words things. I think it's fascinating (from a writing craft point of view) how a writer manages to give each character their own speech patterns and style. Their own voice. It's hard to find our own voice, let alone that of a myriad of characters. Fascinating.

I think Émile is right. To an extent.

A friend once told me about Isaiah Berlin's essay: The Hedgehog and the Fox.

The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing..

 Émile concurs with this theory. In his opinion, as in that of my friend, part of greatness is being dedicated to a subject or area to the point where you become an expert. That takes time and focus and is laudable, in its way.

The fox, on the other hand, may be competent at quite a few things, but isn't as singularly focused at anything. Therefore, its competence is "spread out" and has less depth.

I went on to read the essay and discovered that this theory is just the tip of the iceberg. It's really an essay on literature and Tolstoy, but the hedgehog versus fox dilema is food for thought. Are you born a hedgehog? Is it a personality trait? Are Aspies prone to hedgehogness? Can a fox train itself to become a hedgehog? Is hedghogginess worth it? What about the things the hedgehogs give up? These were questions we discussed and theorized about time and again.

I appreciate "hedgehog-like-personalitites". They are fascinating. The kind of single-mindedness that makes some people able to accomplish great feats is mind blowing. Some things wouldn't be possible if taken on by multitaskers or people with short attention spans. Some things require a tenacity and perseverance that are beyond most people's ability.

Gamache stirred his coffee and watched his mentor.

He considered him a great man, one of the few he'd met. Great not in his singularity of purpose, but in his multiplicity.

Ah... isn't Gamache wise?

While I appreciate those who do great things and are capable of great dedication to their cause of choice, I must agree with Gamache. There is greatness to be found in multiplicity. There is greatness to be found in flexibility, adaptability, and integrity.

Émile was a great man because he was a good man, no matter what was happening around him. Gamache had seen cases explode around his Chief, he'd seen accusations thrown, he'd seen internecine politics that would stagger Machiavelli. He'd seen his Chief bury his own beloved wife, five years earlier.

Strong enough to grieve.

And when, a few weeks ago, Gamache had marched in the achingly slow cortege behind the flag-draped coffins he had with each halting step remembered his agents and with each step remembered his first Chief. His superior then, his superior now and always.

I've spent this week feeling incompetent. Moving and adjusting means you aren't great at anything.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong. I need help. I don't know."

Every day. Every single day. Many times.

I've been sorry. I've been tired, short tempered, and less kind than I would like to be.

I've been wrong - about so many things - all the time!

I need help. More help than I'm comfortable with. We all like being independent.

And there is so so much I don't know. There are even things I don't know that I don't know.

It's a humbling experience.

I have no desire to be an Augustin Renaud. None. I am not hedgehog material. My interests are too varied and scattered for that. And right now, I'm not even showing fox-like competence. If I am to aspire to greatness in multiplicity, then, it must be in showing integrity, kindness, dedication, and goodness in whatever I endeavor to do. Easier said than done.

I have at least managed to drink the perfect mug of cafe-au-lait.

Whoever Anonymous (comment in last post) is, thank you. Your words were prophetic. I'm still not settled in. There are still suitcases and boxes and too many things to do (aside from the normal to do list) to feel like we're home. But last night? I sat down with my nice mug of tea. New mug. Plain white no chips mug. A mug I still have no history with. But I sat, drank my tea, wrote the next day's "to do list", and felt a little bit more at home.

I beg everyone's forgiveness because I have barely managed to buy enough supplies to make even the most basic of meals. I have not had easy access to the internet or my books, so I posted (once again) about a staple drink. I promise I will soon go back to writing about actual recipes!

Thank you all for reading!