I was watching a cricket Test the other day. A particular bowler was struggling with his bowling and was being hit all over the pitch. One of the commentators really had a go at him and announced that he needed “to keep it simple” – a little phrase I’ve heard over and over again in cricket commentaries. This time there was no response from his colleague, only an awkward silence; then the words, “What do you mean by, simple?” Again an awkward silence, and then a rather hesitant response, “You know, I’m not sure.” I loved his honesty, but I couldn’t help thinking of all those fashionable little phrases we use so glibly without really knowing what they mean.
Funny how, without any invitation, certain memories just pop into your mind. The other day it was the case with “Ronny.” I knew him well. The normal thing for him was to be out of the normal. I admired that until I saw his aggressiveness towards the world going beyond the bounds. I knew then something was locked up inside of him. Tragically, “Ronny” never lived a full life. He turned his aggression onto himself. To this day the haunting questions yearn to be answered.
My early morning coffee making bears little resemblance to the simplicity and beauty of the tea-making ceremony of the East; but there’s just something about the homely aroma and awakening spell of this wonderful beverage, the quiet house with the faint light of dawn touching the windows, and the clinking sound of a spoon against ceramic.
Copernicus corrected the belief that the earth was the centre of the Universe. I think he too got it wrong. Rather it’s the ever reassuring ritual of early morning coffee-making, especially in these uncertain times.