God Bless the Coffeehouse
Ground coffee beans, warmth-preserving mugs, sweetened pastries, exposed brick, eclectic lighting, starving-painters’ paintings, and music ranging from Feist to Frank. I love coffee houses. For as long as I have loved coffee, I have loved the many varieties of houses that welcome you to sit and sip.
I acknowledge the ambiance of the modern bohemian has a certain appeal to me, but the characteristic that repeatedly draws me in is the thinking. It seems to me that coffee houses are part of an exclusive club of places that facilitate thought. Schools generally make the list and churches similarly follow suit—environments that can stimulate the mind. And to be fair, I should add libraries to the list, but my post-high-school experience with libraries induced more brilliant naps than brilliant thoughts.
The coffee shop, however, has a particular appeal to an aspiring polymath like me. Conversations in coffee shops are as diverse as the coffee blends slow-dripping behind the counter. If you sit in a coffee shop, it won’t be long before you overhear conversations ranging from religion to politics, literature to film. I increasingly realize how rare these conversations are. I am by nature and nurture a curious individual, and I appreciate that this is uncommon. But it still saddens me to observe the rarity of finding people who earnestly want to develop opinions on far-reaching topics—and more importantly, develop reasons for their opinions.
Coffee shops so often fill their tables with people who are reading, writing, and discussing incredibly diverse subjects, often for the simultaneous purpose of enjoyment and self-betterment. The environment is in stark contrast to the typicality of sitting at home and lounging to the passive drone of television—a habit that constantly plagues me. Coffee shops contain a buzz of energy, perhaps a caffeinated energy, but energy nonetheless. The decibel level seldom reaches a distractible level, and the conversations typically maintain a civility that is often lacking when discussing topics of weight.
I recently read an excerpt from Neil Postman, the critic best known for his book, Amusing Ourselves to Death. Postman commented that television offers “a mode of discourse in which everything is accessible, simplistic, concrete, and above all, entertaining. As a result, America is the world’s first culture in jeopardy of amusing itself to death.” As I earlier hinted, I am entirely susceptible to wasting away my nights and weekends absorbing mindless television. But when I finally slip away to a truly stimulating environment, be it church on Sunday or a coffee shop on a Saturday afternoon, I cannot help but ask “why.” I find myself free to contemplate, inspired to read, and enkindled to write. I want to be more than who I am.
When I started this writing I did not intend to offer a criticism of television nor an endorsement for the coffee shop. I started by looking around my surroundings and finding joy in the smile of the barista, dulcification by the peaceful music, and contentedness in the richness of my mocha. But it was the removal of life’s daily distractions, particularly television, that provided the clarity to consider subjects more significant than NBC’s primetime lineup. By no means does this writing constitute condemnation for watching television, nor does it represent self-praise for the philosophical depth I achieved in a singular afternoon of free-thought. My only aim with this writing, aside from hopefully prompting a smile with my descriptions of welcoming coffee house, is to invite you to occasionally find a place without mindless distractions. Embrace the opportunities to consider the complexities of this world. Be it God, politics, history, or film; just think. You may be surprised by what you can discover.
