Morning Mocha

Old Age Addiction

I suppose someone who cared enough to watch me as I go about my day, could pick out any number of addictions.

If habitual and embedded can fall into that category.

Like many old men, I like to have some semblance of order to my day.

Henry Adams, in The Education of Henry Adams, wrote, “Chaos is the law of nature, order the dream of man.”

Which brings me to my large, extra hot, morning mocha.

Every day, right around 10am.

I have all the makings for making it at home. I often do that when in Vermont, as the coffee shop there is a six mile drive. In California it’s a three block walk. Lacey challenged me about spending $5 every day when I could make it myself. I tried. It was like withdrawing from cocaine .

For a while I always took Zinnia. They give her a puppy-chino, a dixie cup of whipped cream. We weren’t sure it was good for a ten year old, nine pound terrier to have whipped cream every day. I’ve cut her back to every other day. Of course now, she bugs me, not only as her 4 O’clock supper time approaches, but as the clock nears 10am. The baristas are all in love with her.

I’m in love with the baristas. And with the walk, which is punctuated by array of Jacaranda, songbirds, acacia.

I’ve been using a meditation ap: Waking Up, which features Sam Harris leading a ten minute session each day. One of the takeaways for me is his pointing out that there’s no reason for not being happy. We face a lot of challenges, many of which aging shapes, in new, unanticipated ways. The world seems particularly unhinged at the moment. It can seem irresponsible, even immoral, to be happy in the light of all that.

But need it be?

The meditation kicks off my morning. The mocha run follows. For at least that much of the day, I dare risk being happy.