An Inexact Cup

At work, I made a cup of coffee. There's a whole system to it. 20 grams of coffee over which I pour 250 grams of boiling water. I wait two minutes, swirl the Aeropress, wait another fifteen seconds, and press a perfect coffee.

This morning, wanting a bit more than usual, I measured 24 grams of coffee and began adding 300 grams of water. But the scale had gone to sleep. I had no accurate weights with which to work.

I stopped. Do I pour it out and start again or eyeball this? I wondered. Waste not, want not, so I eyeballed.

The Aeropress cylinder holds 250 grams of water on a quick pour but begins seeping down into the cup right away. I had stopped mid-pour — my oh damn moment — so all bets were off. I took another oh damn moment.

I try to dive into opportunities presented by challenges at work and at home. Instead of resisting, I'm working to accept and find what the challenges have to teach me.

Yet here I was filled with resistance over eye-balling my coffee. If such a tiny thing can knock me off balance, bigger challenges are likely to kick my ass.

Keep going, I whispered.

I poured water to the top of the cylinder, waited the two minutes, swirled the cylinder, waited fifteen more seconds, pressed the plunger to the bottom, and lifted the Aeropress from the mug. It looked a bit dark in there, so I poured in some water, an inexact amount.

As I began work, the coffee beside me, I took an absent-minded sip. It was good. I inhaled the aroma and took another sip and it was as if everything was alright, as if what I had done was good enough.

Future Value

Anyone who knows me has heard too much about Tesla. I'm saving for one, mostly by investing in Tesla stock.

A friend, disgusted by Elon Musk's politics, said he'd never buy a Tesla. I get that. I'll never set foot in a property connected in any with the orange maggot who is still trying to overthrow our democracy. We have to invest in what we believe and he doesn't believe in Musk.

But I'll sure as hell buy a Tesla and more Tesla stock. Electric cars are the future and no one does them half as well as Tesla. Given their record, their self-driving advantage, and future plans, I figure Tesla is wildly undervalued even though they produce so few cars compared with, for example, Toyota.

For me, Toyota is way overvalued. Their valuation doesn't account for their carbon footprint and terrible plans for the future. Toyota minimally innovates the hybrid and acts as if hydrogen vehicles are the future. They work against increased mileage standards because they're stuck on cash-rich products of the moment.

And they sided with the orange maggot.

I've owned three Toyotas including a used Prius I'm driving until I buy a Tesla, but never invest in them again. I'll invest only in the future.

That's an odd thought to have drafted with a fountain pen, really old technology, except that fountain pens are forward-thinking tech. Disposable pens are Toyotas. Fountain pens are Teslas because they don't pollute, lasts years (maybe decades), and the experience of writing with one is a dream. Their value is a combination of usefulness, longevity, ecology, overall cost, and joy of use. Like a Tesla.

I'll invest in that sort of thing every day of the week and twice on Sundays. I don't want disposable or wasteful things. I want value for the long-term.

I'll keep you posted about the Tesla I'm $3,500 away from ordering. You'll never hear the end of it. Not unless I'm busy talking about my fountain pen. Or maybe you'd prefer we didn't talk much anymore. I get that a lot. Before you go, want to buy a used Prius?

Pause, Breathe, Decide

The other day a friend was focused on something I had put to bed after only a little bit of thought. We were on the phone and he was focused, almost obsessed, like it was crucial. He had spent hours anxiously working on it and couldn't understand how I could be so calm.

As we talked, I felt pulled by his expectations. Maybe I should be more concerned. Have I missed something important? I felt his anxiety creeping in as I doubted myself.

Then I paused and took a deep breath.

He kept talking, but I stepped out of his storm into a quiet, protected space for a moment.

I skimmed the plan I had put in place as he talked about his concerns and worries about his planning. My plan still looked good enough to me if not for him.

I breathed again and thought, I'm okay.

I climbed back into the conversation, secure enough in my decisions that his storm raged on without disturbing me.

The pause and deep breath allowed me to name the anxiety I felt and decide whether or not to keep feeling it. My children tire of me saying it but anxiety (among many other things) is a choice. The pause and deep breath give me a chance to make good choices.

The pause, breath, and decision separated me from my friend's anxiety. Losing myself in his anxiety, I'm not good to me, the people I lead, or my friend. Separate from his anxiety, I connect better with him and myself.

It's a self-centered technique in two ways. One, I take a moment to think about myself. Two, it centers my self so I'm of use to others. That kind of selfishness pays dividends for everyone.

After pausing, breathing, deciding, and getting some space, I came back to the conversation and eased my friend's anxiety a little. I showed him I had chose not to be anxious about it.

However it worked out for him, I came out more centered and balanced than I had gone in. All from a brief pause and deep breath which made room for a good choice. Quite a return from so simple a technique.