Brewed Awakenings: A Meditation on Coffee and Mindfulness
I was exhausted before I even opened my eyes in the morning. Anxiety intrudes at the speed of light, and not even the curtain of sleep can block it out completely. Within ten seconds of waking I was out of bed and across the room, glancing over my assignments and to-do list. As a fourth-year college student, I had no distinction between work time and personal time, no separation between school and home. As the lines blurred, college became my whole life, and “me time” disappeared altogether. I’d seen a psychologist regularly throughout high school, so I convinced myself I had some coping skills under my belt. College is a whole different ball game, though, and I didn’t know a fraction of what I thought I knew. I could’ve preached about meditation and mindfulness, but I would’ve been a hypocrite in doing so. I gave up on meditation within a few minutes of sitting down for a session, and living in the moment always came second to anxiety.
Between classes, homework, and countless other obligations, it wasn’t often that I paused during my day. Even meals were squeezed greedily into a fifteen-minute break, during which I answered emails, texted friends, and held on to the final threads of a social life. Weekends, too, were woven with chaos. The only times I would pause were during panic attacks, and these were not the relaxing kind of breaks. My mind would repeat, skipping like a record back to chaos where everything feels inexplicably wrong and the world as I know it falls crumbling around me. The daydreams I rarely indulged in were of calm, still moments of solitude on a minuscule planet (I’ve only read The Little Prince a dozen or so times) and the only task at hand was being alive.
On this particular weekday, though, my planet was crowded with people, thoughts, and obligations. In a fruitless attempt to shut it all out, I ended up shutting myself off instead. Even my walk to Starbucks was indistinguishable from the rest of the day as I flew on autopilot from place to place. I barely glanced at my drink as I snatched it from the counter, or looked the barista in the eye as I said thank you. Straw wrapper in the trash and napkin tucked into my pocket, the pilot in my brain took control again. Engines whirred in my head as my thoughts took off and calculations were made and remade. My body was already in motion, and I was about to dim the cabin lights when the taste of my vanilla latte startled me back into reality.
My lips felt the chill of the icy drink through the straw before anything else. When the chill hit my tongue it was as refreshing as water, until the subtle earthiness of sweet vanilla leaked in to satisfy my taste buds as well as my thirst. The espresso was a slight bitterness at the back of my tongue and a spiced smoky aftertaste that lingered in my throat. With every inhale I got a whiff of the smokiness, and with every exhale the scent faded further from detection. I gazed bewilderedly at the venti drink in my hand. Condensation slithered down the cup like raindrops on a car’s side window, puddling between my thumb and index finger until spilling over my hand in solitary teardrops.
This entire time, I had been standing in the middle of the cafe, surrounded by tables of curious onlookers. I didn’t notice that I stopped walking when I took the first sip, nor did I care about the attention I was getting now. I simply kept walking and indulging in my latte, happily curious about what made it taste so distinct and delicious. Non-coffee-related thoughts were nowhere to be seen; all that mattered was tasting and experiencing the drink in my hand.
Although I was aware of everything happening around me, none of it affected me. Normally every slow walker and unwanted interruption annoyed me for much longer than appropriate, but this time I was able to acknowledge it all without investing anything emotionally. This peace of mind lasted as long as I stayed focused on my latte, with each sip offering a renewed spark of curiosity and joy.
I don’t know why that particular latte had such a significant effect on my mindset, but I did know that I wanted to experience it again. Using a sensory tool to help me feel grounded seemed like an easy modification to my nonexistent meditation routine, but I met the same frustrations I’ve faced every time I try (and try again) a number of mindfulness and meditation exercises. When I begin with a goal or expectation in mind, I become so fixated on fulfilling it that I don’t gain anything but impatience from the session. I’ve heard that eventually the frustration passes, so I swore to myself I would power through the obstacles. Now with a beloved sensory tool within my grasp, I resolved to see whether I could purposefully relive the clarity and joy of that magical first sip.
When I think about meditation, I picture a silent and serene monk perched on a hill so high it touches the clouds. He sits cross legged for hours without food or water, yet he is strengthened by his fasting. Everything within him is still while the world continues to turn around him. No thoughts interrupt his detachment; his brain is impenetrable. My brain, on the other hand, works overtime to ensure I’m aware of every possible danger, embarrassment, or mistake. My first step toward a peaceful mind was going back to the basics and dismissing all expectations, so when I think about that ever-silent monk, I wish him well and return my attention to my own journey.
Meditation had its ancient start as a part of Chinese Taoism and Indian Buddhism, but no matter how one practices meditation, the idea stays the same. The ultimate goal is to fine tune awareness and the senses in order to achieve a clear and stable mental state. Mindfulness, on the other hand, is a type of meditation in which the goal is to focus completely on the present moment. While this contrasts the idea of emptying the mind of all thoughts, like I would expect my friend the monk to do, both are still considered meditation.
What I intended to do with my daily coffee is a great example of meditation, because I’m narrowing my focus to only the drink and how I’m experiencing it. It could also be considered mindfulness, though, because of the focus on my senses and how to emotionally approach physical stimuli. Becoming aware of my senses was the one most helpful step that I took toward learning how to be mindful because it forced me to analyze and understand the relationship between what happens around me and how my brain perceives it. By experimenting with my mental responses to coffee, I could learn the same skills I would need to fine tune my responses to other, much more significant stimuli.
After an evening of research and a night of rest, I was ready to see what I could do. Of course I had a desired outcome in mind, but I decided not to set a goal or entertain “what if”s. All I had to do was get my coffee and focus on it—a task I happily accepted.
This time, I looked the barista in the eye to say thank you when she called out my iced caramel macchiato. I approached the counter slowly and with purpose, reminding myself to narrow my focus and intentions. I studied the drink as I held it in my hand, as if I would have to recreate it from memory. As I began the walk home I was mesmerized by the dull clinking of ice against the plastic cup. The sound made me worry that I was shaking the drink too much as I walked, which would eventually cause the distinct layers of the macchiato (sweetened milk on the bottom, espresso on top) to become blended into what is essentially a latte. As if it made a difference in how the drink would taste, I spent several minutes contemplating how to keep my macchiato from mixing. When I noticed that I’d been sidetracked by the intrusive thought, I used a mindfulness-based technique that I’d learned from my childhood therapist: visualize your worry enclosed inside a thought-bubble shaped balloon and watch it float away. I was proud of myself for taking advantage of a skill that I knew, but distracting thoughts were more persistent than I anticipated. After a few attempts the balloon visual stopped helping, and in a matter of minutes I was more stressed than before I had ordered my coffee. I had hoped to ease myself into mindfulness on my walk from the cafe, but my brain was running a marathon when I was asking it to meditate.
Several weeks of unsuccessful attempts didn’t discourage me, unlike my experiences with traditional meditation. Having an espresso drink to enjoy whether I’m at peace or not always seems to soften the blow of frustration. It’s easy to feel discouraged and overwhelmed when you give yourself a monumental goal to live up to, but the only landmark I had in mind was learning to use my mindfulness and meditation skills to reduce my anxiety. Still, I had no clue how to begin my journey. By incorporating coffee a few times a week I gave myself concrete steps to take toward my ultimate goal, so progress was easy to make and track. Practicing to focus my attention on an external object helped me gain the stability to focus inward. Each attempt at mindfulness was either a step forward or a learning experience that I was happy to accept alongside my caffeine. On this day, I had learned to accept the imperfect, whether it be a stirred macchiato or a failed meditation attempt.
After practicing daily caffeinated mindfulness for several weeks, I can spend a lot more time “in the zone” during meditations. Thoughts still happen and I often get distracted, but I am better able to refocus my attention after nearly a month. Visualizations like the thought bubble balloon are still my go-to way to steer my focus in the direction I want it to go, and I’ll even catch myself using the same technique when I’m trying to concentrate on my studies.The most helpful technique, though, is simply incorporating my senses into my routine. Sensory stimuli can often overpower mental reactions, which is why bringing the attention to an object or external feeling can be easier than focusing on the mind or the self.
Paying attention to how I react to sensations gave a lot of insight as to how my thought patterns work. I noticed how my body would react as if I were in danger, even though my brain had no evidence that I was unsafe. Caffeine is known to increase a person’s heart rate, but sometimes when I would feel my heart beating faster I began to experience other anxiety symptoms as well. When my body did react that way, I acknowledged whatever I felt but did not let myself make any mental comment or judgement. I did not try to figure out what I was feeling or why. Often, the panic would subside over time, but if I fueled the fire with speculation I would find myself caught in a downward spiral. The few times I felt my mindfulness derailing from anxious thoughts, I was also still able to regroup my attention by a few hearty sips of my drink.
I’ve yet to have a perfect meditation session, and I doubt I ever will. Mindfulness and meditation both require approaching your experiences without judgement, so in this sense perfection is impossible to attain. I am learning to approach every day as an opportunity to grow instead of as an obligation to fulfil, in the same way a cup of coffee is turning a chore into a valuable routine. It holds true that the hardest work has the greatest reward, but with my favorite drink in the mix, it doesn’t feel like work at all.
