So, I've quit drinking coffee several times in my life. Once when I was 13 and didn't pick it up again until I was about 17. Then again when I was 23. Then once more when I was 24. The first few time it was a drifting apart. We weren't that in love anymore so, I decided to end it.
She was a beverage, I, a boy. She'd go from hot to cold, from cold to lukewarm and get all watery. I on the other hand, stayed consistent. 98.6 (well, really, my body temperature tends to stay a bit on the low side). Anyway, it just wasn't working. So, whatever, it ended.
Eventually, we'd somehow be re-introduced by a mutual friend and fall madly in love all over again. Sparks would fly, fireworks ensue, marching bands, trumpets, caffeine induced euphoria would overtake me. She would be consumed. Over and over, faster and faster, things would become insanely intense (alright, this is getting creepy) and then I'd get bored. The spark was gone and I'd leave.
The last two times we've split, it was different. I quit drinking, quit smoking(only to start again, whatever), stopped eating meat and dairy, cut out gluten from my diet(not by choice), found the Baby Sriracha, started practicing Yoga, began a meditative practice, and was totally hell bent on quitting coffee. Extremity? My credo.
The reasoning was different, this time. I was trying to live a "pure" life. Fuckin' straight edge, man. I got this wedgie of holiness and the stick of righteousness shoved so far up my ass, I could taste my own shit. Like many self-righteous dick bags, I eventually succumbed to the wiles of my own frail humanity (really, I blame the Devil, what a cocksucker) and relapsed on coffee. RELAPSED. Heartbroken and full of self-pity, I continued to drink from the Devil's Cup, stuck in a relationship with this...this vile mistress. Nay, betrothed to the wicked was I.
My worldview was fine, coffee, that temptress, that trollop, was the issue. So, like any good crazy person, I divorced her, again. I touted scripture, conference-approved literature, a blue book that I read, a black book that I read (irregularly but I read it for a long time), the Gita, other spiritually minded books, but mostly, my own self-righteous bullshit. I HAVE CONQUERED THE DEMON OF COFFEE AND YOU CAN BET YOUR SWEET-SEXY ASS I AM GONNA CONGRATULATE MYSELF BECAUSE I AM SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO BE! <---(What an ass-hat.)
Then, temptation struck. I resisted. She struck again but my shield of Egocentric-Self-Important-Dick-Swinging-Douchebaggery saved me. This is easy. I can be righteous as fuck. Who's a kick-ass, mildly practicing, internally shit-talking(but would never say it to anyone else for fear of sounding like a jerk), self-absorbed yogi? This guy. *Points to self with thumbs*
Eventually, The Last Temptation of Derek reared her ugly head, I was (thankfully) with my spiritual adviser(if you don't have one, I highly suggest it) and my own demise came out of my mouth. "I kind of want a cup of coffee but I probably shouldn't." He looked at me, I at him, and the conversation went something like this(this is the paraphrased version of the Gospel of St. Arbucks according to my spiritual adviser who-shall-remain-nameless-until-such-a-time-as-I-receive-a-return-phone-call-granting-me-permission-to-plug-his-blog-and-use-his-name):
Him:You seem to have a wedgie.
Me:What?
Him:Get your underwear out of your ass and have a fucking cup of coffee.
Me:I don't get it.
Him:You're trying way too hard to reach for whatever sort of sick enlightenment you're looking for.
Me:I don't understand.
Him:DRINK A FUCKING CUP OF COFFEE IF YOU WANT ONE! The point of life is to protect your happiness and love others. You're squashing your own bliss. If you like coffee, drink it. I know you like green tea and everything but if you want a cup of coffee, have one. Self-denial is not the way to attain enlightenment. Enjoying life to a maximum extent is where heaven is at. The Kingdom of God is at hand, here, now. You don't get there, it shows up. It's hard for anything to show up when you barricade the doors of your heart and are so worried about the appearance of holiness that real purity and love cannot enter in. Right living is about intention coupled with action, not action coupled with moral-strictness. So, shut the fuck up and have some coffee.
Then, I heard it, the beautiful, golden voice of the holiest saint, St. Arbucks. Her voice, the mention of her name, makes me quiver with delight(creepy, again). It seems I have fallen in love with St. Arbucks to stay(sorry for calling you a whore).
St. Arbucks, I love you and your bold, delicious flavor.
Drink the fucking coffee,
Srirachananda Parmaspicy
St. Arbucks, my hope,
grant me this day a caffeine buzz worthy of thy name,
when thy Holy name proceedeth from mine lips,
may it only be goodness and love that comes forth,
may it be, "Hey, how about a cup of coffee?"
Amen.
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