A hot cup of coffee is part of my morning ritual accompanying my readings. But the cup never lasts and the coffee chills. This morning I poured the coffee into a larger thermal cup. I missed the warmth of the ceramic cup held in my hands, the steam touching my face, the coffee’s flowing caress against my lips, and the fullness of the sip. The thermal cup did what I asked. It kept the coffee hot and the quantity lasted. It lacked the texture, the warmth and offered its contents through a tiny little hole. I giggle as I now sit holding my ceramic cup of coffee, savoring the textures, watching the swirls dance in the cup. Oh sweet life a grand lesson indeed. May my discipline and ritual be spontaneous and serendipity the cup from which I drink.