An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

Take a little bit of me when you go Even as the years go by and I die twice: once when my body goes once when my name is no longer spoken. And my words shriveled and burnt upon the wind. And yet everyone who has ever lived leaves a mark on the fabric of reality The quiet tears that fall on rocky ground nourishes the life which comes after. It will endure through fire and storm and scorching rays of indifference.

I rain drips from the eaves  as thunder shakes the heavens  the dead do not care  II. a lone candle sits flame casts wandering shadows restless in its wake III. dusty books on shelves words are accumulated but they have no voice IV. truth forever mute hidden for no one to see too dangerous for power V. the last bastion keeper of forgotten age hopes the sun will rise VI. a single wish flares thread of history changes for future children VII. for now darkness reigns but the light only grows dim watching and waiting VIII. red blood cools quickly  the house becomes so quiet  there's another ghost

You realize you are worth more than you give yourself credit. Write that story Play that music Dance that salsa Love that movie. If you feel that no one appreciates anything you do there is at least one. I hold your hand bolster your flagging spirit so cry on my shoulder find the strength to carry on.

I see the sands in the hourglass fall slowly to the bottom in a pile of ash I hear my joints pop and my bones creak with every passing day. I feel waves of warmth like a hot summer though snow is on the ground I look in the mirror face wrinkled hair grey as ice I mark every birthday the months pass at the end of the year I wonder if I have lived too long and seen too much

Sinuous letters a special kind of code the key was lost so long ago only to be rediscovered millennia later Painted and inked on alabaster walls pressed into soft clay baked in a permanent frieze the details of a business agreement permanent for all to see. Every little detail a sequence of images a flourish here and there faces stare out with golden or azure eyes expect you to understand what they think and feel all these years later.

Banshee cry pierces through the night a wail of mourning a warning of what is to come mothers, protect your children fathers, barricade the door the drunk who stumbles home should really watch his steps For the night falls quickly  the the wind swirls the leaves the veil between the worlds becomes thin, even thinner and the dead can overhear the call for yet another to join their ranks.

A voice conjures up an image of what a personality should look like. Cadence and words a melody that fills a void in the imagination. Language  paints a picture rhythm and intonation noble or repulsive. What if you  finally meet the person behind the voice: are you disappointed?

Strings vibrate my fingers stretch more than one octave over several frets practice they said you'll get it. It requires as much problem solving as a scientific riddle when your bones and muscles don't stretch that far. Smaller keys custom built but sometimes  a normal instrument is still too big to play.

Leaves crunch under my feet the path is well marked but as the trees shed their colorful blankets I tread on a road of sunset. The very earth knows the turn of the seasons summer's embrace loosens its grip gently, ever so gently. But it is not yet winter no, the cold's not set in I bask in autumn's warmth not a blaze, not a scorching ray Just a touch of radiance.

cascade of water  cold rapids far far below  my soul is drowning the air is cooling sun's rays are growing shorter darkness encroaches the current of fate sweeps me away in its grasp unknown arrival there isn't a way to steer away from danger I face it head on finally it slows bubbles of foam on surface burst and fade away

A broken window lets the wind and the rain  to chill and soak a room. So you would fix the window. But you call around contractors too expensive or the schedules too busy So you do it yourself But you have no idea how. You watch videos you consult experts you rally help. And together you repair what's broken. It takes effort it takes teamwork not easy, but doable. And it starts with one person

Is it wrong to believe you deserve more than you have? To dream of happiness on your own terms and not by anyone else's? Teach the ones  who hurt you a lesson they will never forget? Protect the sanity that still exists in your mind so you never get hurt ever again?

Stand on the precipice waves of change at the bottom of the cliff centuries of foundation erode by relentless tides tumble into rocks below. will you simply stand and watch the march of time eat away the ground at your feet Will you jump? Will you move away? What will you do?

Take comfort in the little things they like to say Repetitive tasks is an opportunity for meditation on life, the universe and everything. When you need  to focus on survival and the daily grind week after week the priority is not on philosophical musings. Time is a commodity If you have the luxury to contemplate on the wonders of the universe and the nature of man perhaps do not judge the ones who work for it.

Needle and thread holes in the fabric anchors the strands double or triple fill in the colors like a painting from the old masters. Follow the pattern and the picture takes shape perhaps a night sky perhaps a street scene perhaps a calico cat mind schooled to stillness a meditation of sorts concentrate to a goal one mistake is costly the story in one snapshot framed for all to see.

I a lifetime of guilt why don't you ever visit  don't understand why II I am four years old read aloud for all your friends to make you feel good III. yearly spelling bee I do not want to practice others play outside IV. so a journalist travel to exotic lands? then take me with you! V. study hard, good grades then just help the family don't think of yourself VI. I have my own life "so do whatever you want! you are ungrateful!" VII. so you wonder why no one ever visits you do not understand

Liquid gold in a cup what color is it? black as midnight? Green like the palest leaf? orange like a setting sun? Doesn't matter. Put the kettle on and let it sing so loudly. Grind the beans let the water flow through. With or without pulp? Morning's hard. Chase the cobwebs of the night's dream Leave the nebulous world and return to this one. Can you remember? Ground yourself with this drink.

Fingers glide on arpeggios going up and down on ladders made of notes and rests Strings vibrate sometimes join two notes that slide into one another. High tones ring low tones tremble all strung in a code that has lasted for millennia but is still familiar all the same

Colored pencils watercolors brushes and inks oil pastels chalk double-sided markers collages scrapbooks little cartoons plein air urban sketches portraits landscapes a treasure of a lifetime pictures are windows to a past that is rapidly fading into monochrome

Time is short for us all they say that at  the end of the road you realize all the  dreams left unfulfilled words left unspoken people left unseen you race to achieve whatever can be done In the end some bridges lie long in ruins and cannot be rebuilt just because  you suddenly decide that you are desperate to close that gap before your time is done.

Autumn pumpkin spice so popular campfires crackle fireflies say good bye to Summer Leaves in the backyard are tinged with the red of dying sun soon to carpet the ground Sweaters soft and pliable pulled from storage the kids wear them at the bus stop in early morning. Festivals for the harvest bob for apples buy hand milled soaps and bright yellow-orange gourds Farewell  to sun's heat hello to winter's chill frost coats the ground and the winds blow cold

So many colors so little time like little pockets of broken rainbows that I can tuck away into cakes of bright and cool shades. All it takes is one brief burst  of inspiration.  Nothing has to be perfect or worthy of the most exacting art critic. Paint with your heart not with their expectations.

Strive for inner peace those slices of time minutes while the laundry and the dishes scream for attention. The seconds between crises squabbling children relationship trouble mum just calls to make sure you're breathing and little else. Step out the back door feel the sun on your face the wind in your hair the neighborhood is quiet no sounds of lawn mowers Those deep breaths the snatches of sanity to cleanse the palate and steady the mind for the chaos that lies ahead.

The stones at the bottom of the well feel brittle and dry the water long gone the soil is so parched. Wind carries haunting voices of those who come before murmur of their fate dark and long forgotten Light does not exist here the weight of stale air frozen by unyielding time smothers any change. Cracks in the mortar between handholds crumble at the touch a long climb back to the light and the view of all in the day. But the sun still rises and sets the world goes from spring to winter Eyes have wandered to greener pastures and voices ask, "Do I know you?"

                  (pictures by Sifa)    Black roses black leaves death and grief and mourning. Transformation an end to the old and into the new find the strength to go on. Look past the curtain move through the shadow play a requiem write an eulogy Remember thou art mortal to dust you shall return but every time they speak your name you are never forgotten

when the impossible becomes possible whom do you believe? the ones who achieve it or the ones whose opinions are mere words? the optimists want to believe the good in everyone the pessimists think change will never happen at all. the realists see the potential but also realize  the roadblocks and the posturing that obscure the vision of justice. Will it ever come to pass? we all know the truth we all know proof exists but  to make it happen involves those who have a vested interest to keep it blind.

when life throws an unexpected loop what do you do? rail against the injustice so loud that everyone hears and maybe it will be fixed? That's fine, but... what if it takes a long time or it never gets solved at all? have a plan B get stuck in traffic know more than one way to get there. change gears make the most of what you have maybe it's a blessing in disguise do those changes that you've been thinking about no time but the present it does not mean put up and shut up make your feelings heard but it does mean be resourceful you might surprise yourself

cool winds blow the temperature no longer peaks over one hundred autumn is near green with a tinge of orange and red the trees put on their russet crowns clear blue sky perfect for the harvest festivals apple pie and cider favorite time of the year days grown shorter nights grow longer stories around the campfire the earth prepares to sleep the birds go on vacation I sit on the porch swing the chill in my bones