"Coffee Time" (Text & Image Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
My coffee tastes especially good this morning.
I make it the same way every day—same beans, same scoop, same mug—but today it’s different. Richer, deeper, more comforting. Why is that? Perhaps it's not the coffee that changed, but me. My mood. The moment. The way the world feels as it drifts slowly past my window, cloaked in fog and wrapped in the hush of a gray morning.
Outside, the fog is thick and humid, moving like a breath across the glass. The trees, barely visible through the blur, seem to be holding their own kind of meditation. And inside, I find myself thinking of cause and effect. For every action, there is a reaction—an immutable law of the universe that governs both the stars and the stirrings of the human heart. Every word we speak, every glance we cast, every choice we make sends ripples outward.
This thought leads me to another truth—one I revisit often, especially in uncertain times:
We cannot control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond.
This phrase is simple, but like the best ideas, its power lies in its simplicity. We do not control the storm, but we choose whether to find shelter or dance in the rain. We do not control the fog, but we decide whether to curse its dampness or marvel at its mystery.
The power of the mind is tremendous. I believe that what we focus on, expands. It’s another kind of action and reaction, isn't it? If we focus on fear, fear grows. If we focus on anger, anger multiplies. But if we begin—quietly, gently—to focus on kindness, on beauty, on love… those too begin to bloom in abundance.
In these dark and unnerving times, it's easy to be swept away by the tide of dread. But here’s a radical thought: for every “bad” thing, there are ten good things. Small things, maybe—but not insignificant. The smell of coffee. The warmth of a fire. The sound of rain against the window. A friend’s unexpected text. A dog’s sigh as it curls into sleep. These are the anchors. The evidence that not all is lost.
Let’s be clear—this is not about denial. I am not suggesting we turn away, play pretend, or live in the land of Pollyanna. We must stay informed. We must know the shape of the world if we are to help reshape it. But let that be information, not identity. Let it be the background music, not the main melody. Let our focus be on what we are building—within ourselves, and within this world.
So today, I sip this better-than-usual coffee. I watch the fog drift. I sit with thoughts of cause and effect, of fear and focus, of storms and stillness. I do not know what will come. But I know this much: I choose how I meet it.
And this morning, I choose hope.
“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work,
but neither are you free to abandon it.” ~The Talmud
~Wylddane
I make it the same way every day—same beans, same scoop, same mug—but today it’s different. Richer, deeper, more comforting. Why is that? Perhaps it's not the coffee that changed, but me. My mood. The moment. The way the world feels as it drifts slowly past my window, cloaked in fog and wrapped in the hush of a gray morning.
Outside, the fog is thick and humid, moving like a breath across the glass. The trees, barely visible through the blur, seem to be holding their own kind of meditation. And inside, I find myself thinking of cause and effect. For every action, there is a reaction—an immutable law of the universe that governs both the stars and the stirrings of the human heart. Every word we speak, every glance we cast, every choice we make sends ripples outward.
This thought leads me to another truth—one I revisit often, especially in uncertain times:
We cannot control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond.
This phrase is simple, but like the best ideas, its power lies in its simplicity. We do not control the storm, but we choose whether to find shelter or dance in the rain. We do not control the fog, but we decide whether to curse its dampness or marvel at its mystery.
The power of the mind is tremendous. I believe that what we focus on, expands. It’s another kind of action and reaction, isn't it? If we focus on fear, fear grows. If we focus on anger, anger multiplies. But if we begin—quietly, gently—to focus on kindness, on beauty, on love… those too begin to bloom in abundance.
In these dark and unnerving times, it's easy to be swept away by the tide of dread. But here’s a radical thought: for every “bad” thing, there are ten good things. Small things, maybe—but not insignificant. The smell of coffee. The warmth of a fire. The sound of rain against the window. A friend’s unexpected text. A dog’s sigh as it curls into sleep. These are the anchors. The evidence that not all is lost.
Let’s be clear—this is not about denial. I am not suggesting we turn away, play pretend, or live in the land of Pollyanna. We must stay informed. We must know the shape of the world if we are to help reshape it. But let that be information, not identity. Let it be the background music, not the main melody. Let our focus be on what we are building—within ourselves, and within this world.
So today, I sip this better-than-usual coffee. I watch the fog drift. I sit with thoughts of cause and effect, of fear and focus, of storms and stillness. I do not know what will come. But I know this much: I choose how I meet it.
And this morning, I choose hope.
“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work,
but neither are you free to abandon it.” ~The Talmud
~Wylddane
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