Have you ever poured your cup of coffee and thought, “Well, there’s just a bit left in the pot, so let me pour the rest of it in my cup?”
You fill that cup to its very brim. It teeters a bit. Then, magically, it holds. Of course, now you’ve got to pick it up and walk with it and that’s another story altogether, isn’t it?
It’s a lot like life. We’re all carrying around these cups that are filled to the brim. How do you walk around with that? Do you stare at it and walk very, very slowly? Do you look away (as many You Tube videos suggest) and just walk normally, knowing it’ll find its own level and so will you? Either way, you probably leave a trail of coffee along the way; something you have to clean up before you get to drink that coffee, which will probably be cold by the time you get to drink it.
How is it possible that we Humans cannot walk with a cup of coffee without spilling it? It’s like asking, “Why is the sky blue?”
It turns out that Human stride has almost exactly the right frequency to drive the natural oscillations of coffee when the coffee is in a typically sized coffee mug. That’s physics.*
The sacred is our Human propensity to take on more than we can without spilling. Filling our own cups to the brim and then going through life, spilling every step of the way. Have you ever heard someone order coffee who requests that the Barista leave room for the cream? Ah, there’s another moment to ponder. Who is this person at your local coffee shop who’s discovered the secret to life itself - leave room for the cream? Even if you take your coffee black, you’ve got to be impressed.
What does it mean to leave that little bit of room in the cup? What does it mean to walk and leave room for the oscillation in the cup … or your life? It’s a lesson worth learning.
What is My Medicine?
As a life coach, that question is asked of me regularly; a client wants to understand his or her unique gifts in the world, or understand how to use them to create a more compassionate and sustainable world; that world could be just for that one person, a family, a community or the whole planet. Service is like a bear crossing your path when you don’t know your own medicine. You really have to stop and respect the bear’s space; hold peace in your heart and let that beast cross the road.
On my own medicine walk recently, I asked that same question: what is my medicine? I really wanted to know because even a life coach has bears crossing her path from time to time.
So, I asked the more-than-Human members of the forest that question. I looked up at the tree tops and asked, “What is my medicine?” and the tree tops thought, “It must be the sound of the wind as it passes through our leaves.”
I asked the dirt beneath my feet, “What is my medicine?” and the dirt replied, “It must be the decomposition of all matter that allows other beings to grow.”
I asked the birds in the trees, “What’s my medicine?” and the birds replied that it must be the songs piercing through the forest, even if no one hears them.
I asked the lichens on a maple tree, “What’s my medicine?” and the lichens replied, “It must be the moisture that we provide to the algae that live in symbiotic relationship with us.”
And I asked the algae, living in symbiotic relationship with the lichens, “What’s my medicine?” and it replied, “It must be the food from photosynthesis that we provide the lichens.”
At the end of my questioning, every more-than-Human being replied from his or her own perspective. Whatever sustained it, that was the medicine it believed lived in everything: the wind, the decomposition, the songs, the moisture and photosynthesis. I was surprised by the simplicity of the answers and my own realization that my medicine was fully expressed in my being; not a vocation or an avocation; my medicine was fully expressed in what sustained me as a Human; connection, love, creativity; a slow walk through the forest and like the forest, I am all this and more.
How I want to move in the world, that is my medicine.
P.S. - I share a much-loved image of Ben Franklin as a true Renaissance Soul, fully expressed, not as a 'jack of all trades'; rather, as someone who knew his medicine beyond a vocation or avocation.