What’s the difference between an addiction and a habit, a compulsion and a desire? A goal and a rabbit hole? It seems primarily to be health, the number of stones cast, and acceptability. Is the thing toward which motivation flows a thing that is celebrated widely, lionized as good and great? If yes, we have ourselves a profession or an art. Why is the song of the humpback whale different than the work of a termite? People seem to appreciate sound houses and that which sounds like music. And yet, what is the difference between drinking ten cups of coffee and ten beers? Probably the cost, unless one so loves a caramel latte. In addition, the level of change in one’s state of being, present and future. Over-buzzing vs. stumbling. Compulsions both. Yet one a degeneration, the other a Voltaire-ation. Will the organs reject regularly consumed daily dozen cups of coffee? Probably eventually. Daily sets of a dozen beers will crash a few systems much faster. What of bike riding? Of writing? Can they be over-done? Perhaps if they invade the territory held by all other activities. But an all-riding or all-writing life would not be a lost life. These are ends in themselves, rather than the instruments that all beverages are ultimately. A cup of coffee could be forgiven for causing no effect if it were decaf (except warm enjoyment). But it is difficult to imagine the drinking of that cup of coffee representing a sufficient action to constitute a full day. Perhaps if the cup was drunk at a sip every twenty minutes with a ritual sanctity that included prostrations to the body and blood of the sun, heated by fire, one could have the making of a satisfying day in that cup. But we might still be looking at a stretch.
There are birds flying hurriedly around me, as if they were well-caffeinated this morning. A tiny marsh sits passively in front of me, stretching in the wind. I’m about to walk inside the building and acquire another cup, this time with coffee rather than mango juice blended with ice. Thirty miles of biking into the day and my body is demanding more than merely the burrito that was just demolished, so there will be more food acquired as well.
I take it all back. Coffee with coconut milk is purpose itself, no more things need to be done today (except of course 30 more miles at a minimum to get home). Wonderful to be doing the only thing that I need to do though, sip this non-decaffeinated beverage and probably refilling it in a few minutes. Thank you, sun, for sharing your body and blood. I feel outside of the plot. Rural Wisconsin. No alarm clock. Friends who work during the day. A non-professional, dare I say unprofessional existence.
Lots of discussion behind me about who’s going to eat their entire things and who is not going to. I don’t understand taking away unfinished food, now that I’m in summer mode and could eat until becoming too tired to continue. But perhaps if I drink enough of this coconut coffee, I will find myself unable to eat anymore. But this inbound quiche claims otherwise. The temperature today makes one sit up straight. A conspiracy between the atmosphere and the sun to make the coffee taste even better as the chill is just enough. The language of addiction, to be certain.
Roman Ryan 