Woke up inside a hole in my head and couldn’t find any rock sticking out to grab onto, to climb on from. Finding no visible and apparent way out, I realised my wits had betrayed me. Nothing made sense, but this was not something new. It had happened before, and it had happened a thousand times over, and each time, I had found a way out. All that was left to do was make a cup of coffee, and not just make it like the clockwork of every day but to do it softly, with the painstaking attention and the impossible focus of a watchmaker. Then, when it was ready, to take a whiff and let the aroma conquer the farthest corners of my mind, leaving no gap whatsoever, and in doing so, lift me out of the hole I was in. Before I knew it, goosebumps spread all over my body and with each wave, I learned, once again, that everything was okay. It was always about the moment, about taking control of it and reining it in. It was always about telling your mind who is in charge. An exercise done patiently but swiftly, before it can cause any damage further down the day. Presence is the only rope we need. And if you do not prefer the flavour of coffee, well, you must pick whatever you like, and the result will be the same. That, I can promise you.
Once I climbed out and found my way to the desk, I had a conversation with all my fears. I told my fear of never being accepted as I was that there was grace in rebellion, at least the kind that begins at desks made of engineered wood. I noticed my fears of never being chosen and always being chosen second whispered to each other and nodded in some sort of absurd agreement, and softly, I smiled at them and thanked them for making me who I became, told them they were my favourite ones, that if I were ever to pick and choose fears, which was not a luxury many could afford, I would choose them both over and over. Finally, I looked at my fear of always being alone, sitting quietly and staring at the cup of coffee before it. I asked it to look around at all the lives we had touched together, and all my fears disappeared, as they often do.
Then, I wrote a little and began the day. The ghosts of Christmas looked different for all of us.