My love is still sleeping when I slip out of bed to make him coffee. He prefers an Italian espresso made in the Bialetti moka pot that travels with him.
The instructions are deceptively simple:
Fill the bottom compartment up to the percolator with water, add grounds to the middle, topped with a spoonful of brown sugar (he likes it sweet!) and place it on the stove burner. When you hear the coffee hiss and sputter, take it off the heat.
Voila! Espresso, no fancy espresso maker needed.
However…
It turns out the many variables in this coffee making process yield variable results.
Leave it percolating too long, and the coffee turns burned and bitter. The coffee roast, size of the grounds, even the heat of the stove all affect the outcome.
Lately, I’ve been getting this morning coffee wrong more than right.
So I proceed with care, hoping the elements come together harmoniously this time.
I set it on the stove. When he awakens, I tell him the coffee is brewing, and then return to checking my email.
Some minutes later, the percolating sound causes him to hop up and take the pot off the stove.
Immediately, I’m apologizing for burning the coffee again. He pours it into a mug, adds more sugar, and gives it a taste.
“No, it’s perfect.”
I follow the recipe perfectly – or so I think – every time. One day, it’s burned. On the next, it comes out perfect.
“What makes the difference?” I ask.
“You walked away.”
This makes no sense to me. Isn’t it good to pay attention to the coffee? After all, I want to get it right.
My honey explains that you have to “get a feel for it,” and watching the stove doesn’t help.
I think of how when I hover and fuss over the coffee, I take it off the burner too soon, set the heat too low or too high, or pack the grounds too tightly. I’m trying too hard.
Only when I walk away and let it do its thing does it come together on its own.
When he forgets about it altogether, his attention is naturally drawn because it makes the right sound, or a second sense nudges him that it’s time, like a mother who knows it’s time to check on the kids in the next room.
I need to get a feel for it and trust what I know.
It occurs to me that the same thing is true in my business.
I spend some time with it, get a feel for it, and set things in motion.
But if I fuss and fret over my business, it doesn’t come together. I overthink things and the result is disappointing.
When I take action in my business and then walk away, forgetting about it altogether, the magic of creation unfolds on its own.
Then when the time is right, I know when to return my attention to my business with the next action.
What if I never have to worry about my business?
What if all my fretting and figuring really doesn’t make it any better?
What if taking the Now Step is always enough?
I watch my love sip his espresso with satisfaction and feel the truth of this:
What I know to do now is always enough.
