For years at the meditation center I rushed through my morning coffee. After all, if I did not drink it fast enough, I would be late for meditation. And that was important—to get to meditation on time. Otherwise I had to endure the social stigma of “being late,” as well as the boredom and frustration of having to WAIT to meditate—until latecomers were admitted to the hall.

When I moved out of the center, I had to learn how to live in the world. I had been an institutionalized person for nearly twenty years. I had been committed. Now I was out and about. What did it mean? There were no rules, so first off I stopped getting up at 3:30 or 4:15 AM. Once I was up, I found that a hot shower, which had not really fit with my previous routine, was quite invigorating. More sleep also helped.

Then I was ready for coffee: hot, freshly-brewed, exquisitely delicious coffee. Not coffee in a cold cup from an urn or coffee made with sort-of hot water out of a thermos, and not coffee with cold milk, 2% milk or non-fat milk, but coffee with heated Half-and-Half. Here was my opportunity to fulfill the frustrated longings of countless mornings. I would have not just any old coffee, but Peet’s Garuda Blend, a mixture of Indonesian coffees, brewed with recently boiled water and put in a pre-heated cup. So that the coffee would not be cooled down with the addition of butterfat, I would also heat the Half-and-Half before adding it, and cover the cup with a lid. With this heady, heavenly beverage in hand, what need was there to meditate? Sipping this aromatic beverage, I would fondly recall how we sometimes gathered in Issan’s room—you had to get up extra early!—and “luxuriate” with coffee and cigarettes before morning meditation.

Of course I had quit smoking cigarettes many years earlier; still, coffee by itself certainly hit the spot. Unfortunately, by the time I finished the coffee, I had been sitting around so long that it was time to get started on the day, and I hadn’t done any meditation. The solution was obvious. Bring the ceremoniously-prepared coffee in the pre-heated cup with the lid to the meditation cushion. This never would have been allowed at the center or in any formal meditation hall I have ever visited, but in my own home it was a no-brainer. Bring the coffee to the cushion –or was it bring the cushion to the coffee?

I light the candle and offer incense: “Homage to the Perfection of Wisdom,” I say, “the Lovely, the Holy. May all beings be happy, healthy, and free from suffering. May I live the life of today for the benefit of all beings.” I sit down on the cushion in front of my home altar and place the coffee just past my right knee. If I have brought the cushion and the coffee back to bed, experience has taught me that I have to be especially mindful where I locate the hot, full cup. I cross my legs, cover them with the blankets, and then put the cup right in the middle in front of my ankles. I sit without moving, so that I don’t accidentally spill the coffee.  

I straighten my posture, sip some coffee. I feel my weight settling onto the cushion, lengthen the back of my neck, sip some coffee. Taste, enjoy, soften, release. I bring my awareness to my breath moving in, flowing out. If I lose track of my breath, I am reminded to take a sip of coffee: robust, hearty, grounding. Come back to the coffee. Come back to the breath. A distraction? A thought? A judgment? Sip of coffee.

The coffee stays hot eighteen to twenty-two minutes, and I finish what’s left. Then, properly suffused with caffeine, I continue meditating another five to eight minutes.

Ready to get up and go.