I used to drink coffee different, really different. Cream and sugar - Coffee-mate and Domino Sugar. That was how I liked my coffee, so that was how I drank it. Light and sweet, please. Only light and sweet. It was how I kicked off my days - how I started each and every morning: a freshly brewed cup of milky-caramel colored coffee. It was ritual, it was consistent, what I enjoyed and most of all what I knew.
Now, I drink it black. I don't remember the day I started drinking black coffee. It was not a momentous occasion, nor something to brag about. I didn't throw it up on the Instagram with a set of prayer hand emojis and some absurd hashtag. No, in all honestly - it happened over a course of years with tons of consistent small choices to use a little less.
Change is funny like that. It's usually not singular or simple. It most definitely does not happen while we are sleeping or daydreaming or wishing or hoping or wanting. It is continuous hard work and effort. It comes from choice and acting on decisions only we can make. Change is a living breathing creature who rests in the depths of our stomaches where it battles circumstance and complacency. Forcing us beyond a zone of familiarity, pushing and breaking our boundaries into new normals, where once again we must fight to choose and thus change. We commit to change because something is worth the time... or in other cases not worth the time. Change is evolving.
For me, starting this blog about god knows what is a change - it's a choice and a challenge and pretty damn frightening. Honestly, I am not even sure I want to conquer this monster, but I have this odd feeling I should. I guess it's something I'll have to work at a little each day - just a new challenge to turn into some black coffee.