#folk magic

Tucked in the corner of my family's dining room lay various stones and trinkets from another time. Three picture frames; my paternal grandmother and grandfather, as well as my maternal great(unsure how many great's) grandfather. There are also an assortment of candles.

My paternal grandparents were strong in their faith; although slightly different to mine (both converts to the Mormon/LDS church; however my grandmother was raised in the very church I am in now - United Church of Canada), I aspire to be as strong as they were. Stories told of my grandmother praying for each and every family member, with inevitably her prayer list growing longer and longer as the family grew. My grandfather was active in church leadership positions, as well.

Each day I sit across from the ancestor altar to eat. After all, the dining table is next to it. However, as time goes by and I become increasingly unwell, this altar goes untouched. It collects dust, tucked away in that corner. I rarely sit down to eat anymore; if I eat a meal at all. Each passing day I notice it I only become more ashamed of how I have let it become.

This morning, that changes.

I dusted each trinket off, rearranged them, and hung the frames of my paternal grandparents on the wall (the one with my maternal great grandfather does not have a wall hook, unfortunately). I replaced the image of my maternal great grandfather with an expanded version I found online; one which included his wife/my maternal great grandmother.

During this, I go to make my morning coffee. A fairly simple recipe, brown sugar iced latte. But it gets me thinking.

Coffee and I have a strained relationship (no pun intended). I have tendencies to overwork myself, coffee is my only chance at staying awake... Even far too long than I should (note: I am writing this after one of my many all-nighters). For a moment, I feel I am able to unmask, something I struggle to do without coffee. Additionally, due to many of my ancestors faith within the LDS church (not just my paternal grandparents; my maternal ancestors very well may go back to Mormon pioneers), many familiar with the church know, coffee is essentially the devil's drink.

In my morning prayers, which I have not done in probable months up until today, I include a portion for any specific requests, apart from the general prayers. Today I prayed something along the lines of, "God, allow me to meditate on your creation of the spirit of coffee. Allow me to see that coffee, too, is ancestral in a way."

I was not expecting myself to say this. Coffee? Ancestral? Many of my ancestors, as previously mentioned, were Mormon pioneers and therefore likely were prohibited from drinking it. But the more I think about it, just because they could not drink it does not mean there isn't a lesson to be learned from coffee in this specific context.

Yeah, maybe coffee is a devil of sorts. This does not mean coffee is inherently bad, no. I simply mean to say, drinking it is like making a deal with the devil (even in a pop-culturey way). You wish for more energy, and energy you will get. But this does not come without consequences, and many (myself included) do not realize the consequences (caffeine crash) until it is too late. Even so, you continue to drink coffee.

But we must remember. Coffee, like all, is a child of God, a brother to us, and a part of creation. There are simply lessons to be learned and taught, and coffee is no exception to being a teacher.

Sometimes coffee is the only thing that motivates me to actually do the work. And that's okay. Even redoing my ancestor altar could not have been possible if I did not drink coffee a few hours beforehand, and although I probably should have slept, I am doing the best I can. I simply must learn how to live with coffee instead of letting coffee control me. Even if he doesn't mean to.

This is another lesson from coffee, the title of this post; you cannot know the taste of coffee without drinking it first. Sometimes it is bitter, sometimes sweet and creamy; you gotta taste it to know whether to add more sugar. And you must taste it to drink, no? This, to me, is a metaphor for actually partaking in spiritual practice. Too often I am scared to practice, in case something goes wrong (whatever that may be). Or simply I do not have the energy, or I do not know how to go about doing the thing I want to do. But I will never know how to do it if I do not at least have a taste.

Now, tucked in the corner of my family's dining room lay an altar. One I'm quite happy with the layout of. (Portraits censored for privacy)