My cherished images of mornings. Rays of warm light entering the open window and illuminating a thin cloud of steam from a coffee cup on a table highlighted against a room still in soft shadows. The world of silence outside is only broken by the nearby chirping of birds, and like the clouds from the coffee, the mind now wonders, after this relative peace and quiet, how does one get through all that’s to come after?
“We can’t return we can only look behind from where we came…” Yes, everything is right with the last song playing in one’s mind. Always forward, and turning back around is not an option. Morning chores follow and ever slowly, the dam breaks and all hell gets loose. You be a worker, politician, mother, father, employee or boss, you got to serve somebody, says Bob. That is just how things roll.
I often think, this is must be the main source of all the friction in the world. With all its noise, it’s like an engine, revved up with an insatiable drive. As a bitter counterpoint you could also say, the world becomes a totally different animal, right after peace that comes with morning coffee.
You may say I’m a dreamer… but perhaps we can try resolving differences with the wake-up brew as the day wakes. At best, that might be a great add-on which could go hand in hand with the few and precious quiet moments at enjoying our coffee. Never mind if a few yakitiyaks disrupt you at times. They’re part of the matrix.
Consider a short flashback. The narrow street of Hidalgo, located just after San Sebastian Church in Quiapo in the late 70s had always been where many jeepneys started and ended their routes. At the break of day, they would start lining up there, before plying their routes around Metro Manila. By 5am, after a short ride from Malate, this was where I’d get down everyday, to catch my ‘connecting flight’ to San Juan. Because we had a gig every night, we would sleep for a few hours at Malate Park, until jeepneys again started plying for Quiapo. It was here, in this one-way street, under the thin blanket of grey mist of jeepney exhaust fumes, in the early morning, that I found refuge in an air-conditioned nook that served the best coffee back then. (how can I forget it had the logo of a smiling bee, still unpopular at that time.)
What’s unforgettable with enjoying my coffee within its silent confines; you could spy and anticipate that a busy world outside was gearing up for the demanding day ahead. This is made clear as the jeepneys lining up Hidalgo rev their engines non-stop, like battle tanks prepping for war. One by one, they slowly flow out into Quezon and Recto, thus starting their repetitive journeys.
These days each morning, that’s how I like to start my coffee ritual, quiet and simply without much ceremony. Imagine millions of us going through the same routine at first light. Even with different time zones separating us from each other, a quiet time at daybreak just spent on pondering what we have planned for the day ahead, might be something to think about.
Then think of King Théoden breaking through your reverie, as he says, “and so it begins.”
