A 21st Century Memoir.

Swirls In My Coffee

I grabbed my favorite mug with John, Paul, George and Ringo’s silhouette famously strolling across Abbey Road and dumped two teaspoons of sugar at the bottom of its surface. I sat the jar of sugar down next to the full coffee pot and poured the dark liquid into the cup. As the steam grew from the mug I began to pour my tasty pumpkin spice creamer slightly off center into the cylindrical object. I watched as the loud of creamer billowed its way up from the bottom of the mug’s porcelain floor and, instead of grabbing a stirring spoon, I let the forceful movement of the cream mix its way around my hot cup of coffee.

I couldn’t help but notice that the contrasting swirls of the cream and coffee moved in a similar pattern to that of the celestial clouds of the universe. I thought of Septimus and Thomasina in Tom Stoppard’s play, Arcadia, and how she thought it was odd that when one stirs jam in his or her rice pudding into swirls in one direction, the jam will not come together again if they swirl the pudding in the opposite direction. I remembered how she asked why one cannot stir things apart, a question that came many years before the establishment of Fermat’s Last Theorem, and how she understood the foundations of thermodynamics and chaos theory far before its time.

My lunar swirls of creamer against the dark abyss of coffee captured my attention and drew me in to stare at my cup of Joe. I saw several galaxies of chaos mixing about within the confines of my cup. Eddies of cream bounced around the edges of the mug slowly, but surely, coalescing with my coffee. The laws of physics governing the large clusters of cosmological matter beyond our blue skies were governing the cream that I had poured into my cup of coffee right before my eyes, and for a moment, I could see the gasses and dust swirling into a beautiful distant galaxy.

Eventually the churning liquids twirled their way to a point where I could no longer tell them apart, and I took a sip of the newly formed combination and enjoyed the results of gravity. I let out a soft chuckle realizing that I had spent several minutes admiring my routinely evening cup of coffee, and continued on into the chaotic world of twirling bodies outside the kitchen and into the dead of night.

2 responses

  1. This is so poetic and dreamy, I feel like drinking coffee now.. and I hate coffee. So inspiring.

    Like

    October 26, 2012 at 1:04 pm

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