Sometimes we think we want something—but when it arrives to us, we realize that we never wanted it at all.
We just thought we did.
As if there's this gap between what our mind craves, and what resides in the deeper chambers of our heart. What we want in our earth life—and what our soul truly desires.
For years, I'd craved one of those fancy coffee makers—you know the kind.
They look like miniature space ships ready to take off from the counter, and they require an elaborate system of add-on purchases to brew: tiny individual capsules of coffee, tea or cocoa place, one at a time, into the machine. Plunge the level down, and voila! You've brewed your own personal, private cup.
Take about instant gratification!
I spent several years drooling over this particular machine in retail shows. I was always first in line when then had them in offices—always the big price tag places, like your mortgage broker, or banker, or your kids' orthodontist.
But for some reason, I always resisted buying one. It wasn't just the price, although for a coffee maker, I found the price steep. I didn't think I needed the technology either—I've existed on the one cup, one funnel, one filter drip method for decades.
But the real truth is, my idea of absolute luxury is to not make my own coffee, no matter how elegant the machine. My personal idea of bliss is to have someone bring me a cup of steaming hot coffee, in the particular red or green or yellow mugs that I've used and loved for years, directly to me in bed.
There I am, hair unbrushed, eyes barely open, blanket still snuggly, reaching my arm out of the glorious wakeup cup, and if I am truly blessed that day, whoever is bringing me said cup—partner or one of the teenagers—will sit on the bed and chat with me while I drink it.
Heaven! Nirvana! Bliss!
I think the Universe got tired of me drooling over these machines, when I already had it so good—and they decided to teach me a lesson.
Recently, I got to stay at a fantastic hotel courtesy of my publisher. I was so excited about the puffy towels, bazillion soft pillows—you could even order a live goldfish for your room, in case you got lonely!
But the most impressive to me, was they had these special coffee makers, just like I'd always wanted. ... pop in the tiny sealed canister, push a button and your brew is ready!
I popped, I pushed, I sipped. I made a cup, and then another cup. And then I made another cup, just for the sheer fun of it.
But the truth was ... sipping coffee in bed, snuggled in the pristine hotel linens, everything fresh and clean and new ... I liked my home coffee better.
The one cup, one cone, one filter method. The sit on the bed and chat method. I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Sometimes we think we want something, only to find out we don't. In coffee makers ... and in so many other aspects of our life.
The good thing is, the Universe is well aware of what we need; of what will take us to the highest possibility.
Today, write a list of everything you think you want. A car, a relationship, a new pair of shoes. A degree, a trip, an experience. Whatever it is for you.
Now, ask the Universe to show you if you really want this or not. If this longing, this craving, will actually make you happier and more whole—or not.