Dalai Lama – Yes. Pauly Shore – No.
On most mornings this place is hopping and quite noisy. This morning it is a good place for contemplative thought. Maybe they should put up a new sign out renaming this place as: “The Dalai Lama Coffee House.” Ommmmmmm.
I kind of like it like this – calm, peaceful – just me, my coffee, and a table in the corner. Even the everpresent canned music isn’t half bad, yet. The Music Programmer in Seattle must have a hangover and is keeping it all subdued. I just don’t appreciate Lynyrd Skynyrd at 8 AM. Maybe later, but not now – not before I have established a regular heartbeat.
As I look across the Chapel I can clearly see the steady stream of cars outside and it makes me even more grateful to be here at my table, just sitting and scribbling away with not even the Usual Suspects here to shatter my Cone of Silence.
Times like this are rare at St. Arbucks. I’m sure that the “Bottom-Liners” in Seattle would prefer that this place was as busy as Double Coupon Day at the supermarket.
When it is like this in here I am sure that it has a beneficial health side effect. For me, my blood pressure drops and the likelihood of my head exploding like an overripe watermelon diminishes. For everyone else nearby their chances of survival are enhanced by the fact that I may be less prone to go “Postal” without warning.
When I can sit in my pew at St. Arbucks, and sip my sacramental coffee, I can think outside my own box. What of the world and all its woes? I see solutions march before me. I hold these solutions up to the Light of Reason, I take another sip of my coffee, and then I say to myself,
“Awww, screw ‘em. They made this mess, let them clean it up. I think I’ll get a Danish.”
While the people who are regulars at St. Arbucks are a highly caffeinated laity, I’m beginning to think that a loose-knit clergy of a sort might be in order. When I say “loose-knit”, aka “Not wrapped too tight,” I mean something on the order of the old Book of the Month Club – a group sharing a common interest (loitering with coffee) that holds daily Conclaves in the Chapel
Wait a minute there, Bucko!!
I must be crazy. Did somebody slip me a Decaf?
What are the odds of getting a bunch of people, largely retired, into any kind of structured group? You can’t even get these people to decide “Yes or No” on Pumpkin Spice. There would be no way they would ever agree on anything beyond “Universal Free Refills.”
Yes, it’s a quiet morning here atop Mt. St. Arbucks. Down below I see the Baristas skittering about trying to keep up with the parade at the Drive-Thru. Inside the Chapel it is quiet. A stray bleary-eyed worshipper comes in, mumbles a prayer to the gal at the cash register, and then stumbles out with a cup in his hand.
It’s just the quiet start to another day here. People will come and go. Some will talk while others will be deep in study. They will all grow old and die. That’s the cemetery down the road by those Golden Arches.
Another day begins and I guess it’s my turn to get a refill and be on my way.
Take care of yourself and don’t rush about too much. There’s always a tomorrow – unless, of course, you’re waiting for a Pauly Shore Film Festival, then, well…good luck.