Coffee Shop Sanctum

I used to sit an read.

I used to sit in the coffee shop and read.

I used to sit and just read. Just me and my book. I got  through a lot of books that way. Over several years. Just reading. That’s it. Sometimes making notes in the margins. Often underlining sentences or phrases i wanted to remember or come back to later. If it was something very juicy, I would write it down in my journal.

I always brought a pen and a tea bag. The tea bag was because I was poor and didn’t want to pay for anything so I just asked for hot water…and then refills of it to last the tea bag and the pages I was plowing through and the personal interactions I was avoiding.

Reading and reading and reading.

Sometimes the quotes from the books were so juicy that I would write a bit more in my journal about the thoughts and feelings they sparked within me.

I realized that I also needed a journal to come along with me each time I went to the coffee shop. Pen, tea bag, journal.

The commenting and recording of my thoughts increased.

And increased.

And increased.

Eventually, I found myself just journaling the entire time. Maybe only reading 5 or so pages.

No, it is not at all. Most of the time, anyway.

I sit here and write. And I drink coffee or espresso and sometimes even BUY some tea–never from a bag, loose leaf always.

The girl that sat and read with a pen and a cheap tea bag didn’t ever want to be a writer. It scared her. She didn’t know that reading would lead to thinking would lead to writing would lead to a Voice.

A voice that was actually audible.

A voice that was vocalizing more than just a whisper.

A voice that was sleeping dormant while she read and feeding off of the words of so many others.

To whom that girl is so grateful.

I am sitting in a coffee shop right now and haven’t opened up my book. I haven’t opened up my journal. I haven’t taken out a pen.

I’m drinking my 3rd cup of coffee with almond milk and cinnamon and writing on my laptop.

I look nothing like that girl. But I have her eyes and their vision. I have her mind and its thoughts. I have her heart and its desires.

I have her Voice and I’m teaching it to Sing.

 

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About heathencomehome

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