It is black and spice,
It is spicy and right,
It is rich and delicious,
It is sweet and savoury,
Abundant in flavour as it is tasty and sacred to me…
This short piece I wrote on the qualities of coffee, yet it might as well have written about the quality of the words that will flow your way today. Because as truthful and true they are, they are rich and right. They have a tang to them, these writings of a new way of living, as for some they might taste sweet, for others savoury, sour or bitter. That’s because they provide a perspective, my perspective on life and my lessons learned, through sharing them they provide you, my readers, with pure gold for the taking...
Interesting is that I truly see similarities to these writings and coffee. In my home country we sometimes refer to coffee as black gold. And somehow I see my substack and my writings as being exactly that…both blackened and gilded. Here, in this space, I promised to write about my journey into the void, about stepping into my true authentic expression, straight into the unknown. Into the blackness that awaits beyond the borders of all that is known to me. That zone of discomfort. That place where demons and darknesses reside. And by sharing, and vulnerably exposing myself, this way I offer gold in writing. My experiences, my challenges and choices, written down and seen through the lens of them being a perspective, it can be of value to you. And it is this I wrote in my coming-out story “into the void…” (have you already submerged yourself in its words? If not, you can read it here)
These first paragraphs were a nice digression, but serve as a right introduction to this post, I sense. Initially I wanted to take this post into another direction, yet I allow for these imperfect perfections. As it seems, these words were meant to flow from me, from my fingers onto this paper transformed into bits and bytes, and so make for a flawless start of this post on coffee, creativity and writing; the intent and true purpose of these writing; I wanted to write about these three things because, you see, me and coffee are interrelated. We share history. We share life. We share past, present and future.
In my first post I described myself as a coffee addict and I must say I’m guilty as charged (“my name is Nick, and I am addict..Hi, Nick”). I need coffee, now twice a day, to function properly. To be able to shake off the sleep from a night slept well. And to power up the sacral engine I am blessed with. I love its taste. I live for the feeling it instills in me. I long for it when it awaits me in the morning. Too much of anything is bad, I know, but we are talking about black gold here. Over the past years I have diminished my caffeine-intake drastically and now I only allow myself two coffee-moments a day. And oh boy, do I savour them…! As I have grown older, wiser and have come to live more aligned with self, I have rid myself of many bad habits. And for the better…I live more healthy now and feel more alive because of it. But coffee, this beautiful spice and stimulant, is something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to swear off fully. Renouncing it completely just doesn’t feel right. And I’ll tell you why...
It’s about the divinity of the moments I sin and take it in, sip by sip. When I allow its earthly taste to touch my tastebuds. When I drink the espresso-based drug down to the last drop and delve the last bit of steamed milk from the bottom of its cup. As I write this I can taste its truth, and I sense saliva wetting my lips. I take a breath, in-and-out, to be able to continue and write….Ok, where was I? Yeah..the moments I drink coffee. Well, as I sort of said, its these moments I cherish most in a day. Sometimes I pour myself a self-made French-pressed coffee (my Italian coffee maker stays with my brother during my current exotic enterprising) and sit down somewhere to enjoy it. Most of the times though, as I like them to be either cappuccino or cortado, I have my coffee in cafes. It’s become a ritual, a ceremonial taking in of caffeine..and it’s through these moments of pure bliss and enjoyment I came to be a writer.
At times I tell people I am writing a book, a thriller that goes under the working title ’Lens’, and they ask me how I came to be a writer. They ask me where the idea of commencing such a challenging and demanding project sprung from. Why I chose to spend years working on the same creative expression. Or how I came to be so committed in wanting to finish this work of art. And though, this undertaking being one of the most ambitious and arduous engagements I ever underwent, these are all legitimate questions my answer is always the same, one-sided and simple: I drink coffee. I understand it seems somewhat rash to respond to their perfectly phrased probing with only three words, but I can say the response is as true as it is brief. So before you dismiss me as single-minded and ill-mannered, please let me elaborate.
Back in the days, when I was still committed to my nine-to-five job (you can read about this time in my post ‘into Scotland…”), I created a routine. On the first day of every weekend I left the house, rode my bicycle to my favourite coffee shop, ‘De Heilige Boontjes’ (which translates to ‘Holy Beans’), and ordered my double-shot cappuccino made with Brazilian beans. My caffeinic fix secured, I sat down and let the weekend sink in. I cleared my mind and released the stress accumulated over the workweek. I let myself decompress from the pressures I, in my ambition and strive for perfection, put on myself. I chose to be free from my uninspiring every day life, and soaked in the freedom of fully being me. In that coffee shop, sipping on my cappuccino and the cortado I ordered after, I was myself. I was no-one other than who I was supposed to be. I was none other than Nick. And I tell you, being me, comes with creativity.
In my day-to-day job I was a Financial controller. I was a man of Finance, whiling away my days being responsible for providing accurate records of the company I worked for, and for managing the team doing the accounting. I controlled cash-ins and cash-outs, made calculations and analysed all company commitments. I know these last sentences may be boring to you, but bear with me here as they serve a purpose. Having distanced myself for some time now from filling my time this way, I can safely say my former occupation was true manifestation of my insecurity. My ego, in order to feel secure, wants to control each and every variable and prevent all risks associated with everything erratic and unpredictable. It’s been this way since childhood. I have been a control freak for most of my life, a true controller so to say, and so the irony is, having mastered it to perfection, I had chosen to make it my profession. And though it filled my days and my pockets with dough (i.e. money), it was far from fulfilling…
The reason being, that in reality, I am quite the opposite. Don’t get me wrong… as my ever-present ego always wants more security, at times, I can still be quite controlling. You might have read my third post ‘intro trust…’ where I write about my ways to find more security in self, and to mend my relationship with trust. Trusting self more has been integral for me to step more into the opposite sides to me. Yet, as I am not my ego, these other sides have always been with me. As a child, growing up in a family full of creatives, I loved being creative. Grafted onto me in artistic surroundings, my grandfather’s atelier, my mother fashion designing in our family room, my father’s darkroom for developing photography, creativity has been in my blood from birth. I loved to draw and write. I loved to paint. I loved to create fantastical worlds on paper. And for reasons I do not wish to write about today (I reserve these nuggets for later posts!) I disassociated, and became distanced, from this side to me as I grew up into the man I am today. But some years ago, religiously and solemnly savouring that sacred spice called coffee, in the cafe where I allowed myself the time to be myself, I connected with that innate creativity again.
And so in those three hours I took time for self, at the start of each weekend, I started to write. First I let the words flow from my pen, then later onto digital paper. I wrote aimlessly, purposeless and imperfect. I wrote by the seat of my pants, meaning I embraced flow and penned from personal experience, out of passion and purely for enjoyment (as I do now, writing for my substack). I let my imagination run wild, my worlds of fantasy form in my head and the flying creatures from my childhood spring to live. Sometimes I was so absorbed in creation I forgot I had an addiction, forgot to take that shot of coffee, served minutes before and now being lukewarm. Also, I started to draw inspiration from all the spy-novels and books on special forces I was reading at the time. I had always wanted to write a thriller, and even included the desire in my bucket list items, the things I want to achieve, attain and experience before I leave this world. And so, over my coffees, I started to write more coherent and came up with a more comprehensible story. I still let it be a creative process, the words flowing from my fingers, through the keyboard, onto my computer screen. Each week I committed myself to writing for this new-found devotion. Numerous shots of espresso, as well as blood, sweat and tears, went into this fulfilling new occupation. And so, after some time, I finished my first draft..one still incoherent, still incomprehensible and with parts and pages that were still illegible. One hundred and twenty thousands words of art, of creation, of creative expression, written by me.
And to this day I am committed to finishing this book. On the days I am not writing for this substack I devote my time to revise the unreadable rambling of the first draft into a full thriller, or in other words a second draft. After this I will seek for publication, as, just like the words of truth I send your way through these substack posts, I believe in the value of those writings.
I see its worth.
It’s truth.
It is fictional, but true.
It is truthful to me.
So here you see the reason I write this post ‘on coffee’.
As it leads me, in these moments I sit and sip, to the truth of me.
The real me.
To the side of me that is not controlling, but free.
The part in me that is creative,
which cultivates creativity,
and makes me a true creator.
And so, I say to you, I will stay committed. I will stay committed to these sacred and ceremonial coffee moments I have more frequent and every other day nowadays. Trust me..I will
Now, this post has become more substantial than anticipated, but significant nonetheless. I enjoyed writing it as it feels its words flow from spaces close to my heart. Thank you for sitting here and sipping them in, it means a lot to me. If you are interested in knowing more about my creative processes, about what it takes to write a thriller, or about creativity, flow and meaningful expression, please stay tuned and subscribe!
I will finish by saying that this week I will start to work on my future offerings. For now my gold has been solely in writing but soon I will offer you other means to submerge yourself in my energy. It’s going to be fulfilling, meaningful and truthful, but most of all it is going to be a creation, sprung from my native creativity, and a true work of art.
I Salute you,
Yours truly,
Nick
In the Dutch region where I grew up, Brabant, the expression “Luste gij koffie?” has a special vibe in it.
It is slang for “Do you like coffee?”.
This expression is the invitation for doing business, discuss things or to get on speaking terms again.
At the moment that this “luste gij koffie” is spoken the treshold for doing business is put really low.
And of course the host offers you a drink. Mostly coffee 😉