Ditching the Drive Through Life
Sipping from a ceramic mug in a To-Go Cup World
I am currently back in the U.S. to visit family and friends, and I’m sitting in a familiar coffee shop where I used to frequent while living here. Today, instead of the usual and customary “mobile” order I used to place, I am sitting my “bones” down, because sitting down is now what I have grown accustomed to, and secondly, because I have time. I have time because my husband and I sold or gave away everything and now travel and work remotely. Time freedom is the resultant gift to myself, and living life in a nomadic way is something I am still adjusting to mentally and logistically; however, on a soul and emotional level, I can tell you my nervous system has already given it a thumbs up.
Even though I am sitting down inside the cafe, my coffee was served in a “to-go” cup, nonetheless. That is the assumption. You might sit down, but you will most likely walk out at some point with a beverage in hand, so it must be put in a travel cup.
I am not sure if being steeped in American culture is the reason I couldn’t see it while living in it.
The hurried existence.
The sip, talk, drive dance of modern-day multitasking life.
I never noticed it before because everyone did the same thing.
But today, as I sit with my husband in the coffee shop, we watch with newfound curiosity the parade of people. They walk in briskly, survey the counter, pick up their order, and walk out in silence. Some never pause their phone conversations, grabbing their cup mid-sentence, whirling around without acknowledging the barista or the five people they pass. No one stops. No one except us is even sitting. No eye contact. Just a constant revolving door of grab and go.
And I used to do this too. I hope I don’t sound judgmental. I’m simply observing something I never paused long enough to witness from any other seat in the house.
The Ceramic Mug Philosophy
I have never seen a “to go” cup in Portugal. You do have the option for “take away,” but it is far less common. I have also never seen anyone walking down the street drinking coffee. The assumption is different there: you will sit down. You will drink your coffee at leisure. You will talk with the person sitting next to you. You will taste each sip. You will observe. You will exist, fully, in those moments.
There is no race. No prize for finishing first.
The buzz of activity I observe now, this constant motion around me, feels so at odds with what I’ve grown to know. How did we decide that waiting is bad? That lingering is wasteful? That sitting still means losing precious time that could be spent doing, moving, and accomplishing?
The Space Between Breaths
The parallels I draw sitting here, slowly sipping my flat white, seem to call to a deeper meaning. I think about my answer to the continual common questioning from friends and family when they ask, “What do you like best about being in Portugal?” I say “the people and the culture”, but what I really mean is harder to articulate. It’s what I see here in the coffee shop, or rather, what I don’t see. I think what I really mean is the culture of connection. The valuing of slowing down. The art of pausing between breaths to connect to what and whom is in front of you.
I mean the space between things.
The pause before speaking. The moment of eye contact with a stranger. The few extra seconds it takes to really taste your coffee instead of using it as fuel. The choice to be where you are, with whom you’re with, doing only that one thing.
In Portugal, meals last hours. Sometimes coffee in the morning does too. Not because the food takes longer to eat, but because the conversation matters. The presence matters. There is an unspoken understanding that this moment - right here, right now - deserves your full attention. That the person across from you is more important than the next thing on your list. The check does not come unless you ask for it, and it’s expected that you will stay a while. There is no rush to “turn the tables” from the circling waiter with a polite, “Can I get you anything else?” which is interpreted as “your time is up and it is time for you to go.”
How Do You Start Your Day?
Drinking coffee is one way I start my day, but usually after I have moved my body and sat in stillness first.
How do you begin each morning?
Do you start it in peace, in stillness, in presence, while enjoying a beverage slowly and with pleasure? Or is it a full sprint from the moment your eyes open, racing against time, cramming several activities into each moment, mindlessly on autopilot?
What is the difference between sitting and sipping, and engaging with life versus being in perpetual motion? What would happen if you decided to live life drinking from the mug instead of the paper cup? What is more sustainable for you, your life, the planet, your health, your soul?
What is so urgent that we all sprint from one activity to another, always leaning forward into the next thing, never quite landing in this thing?
Living life at this pace is so steeped in American culture that I couldn’t see it while immersed in it. Like the proverbial frog in the pot that doesn’t notice the water slowly heating until it’s boiling.
Confession of a Former Sprinter
Again, this is an internal reflection as much as a written piece. I have been that woman - the one racing through mornings, standing to eat breakfast, moving through routines with mechanical efficiency. I lived on autopilot, my body present but my mind always three steps ahead, planning, organizing, optimizing. My nickname was “Jada 430” because that is what time I got up to start my morning workouts, and I never missed a day. Keep going. Keep analyzing how I could go faster and try again.
This was my life for many years.
Until one day, I looked around and realized I was in the pot and it was getting hot in there, and I wanted out.
What I craved couldn’t be rushed. It required something I had forgotten how to do: be still.
Be present.
Be content with moving slowly, or not moving at all.
New Eyes
It is only now visible while returning to visit family and friends, that I can see something I couldn’t see when living here. New eyes to see what I was submerged in before.
To live to work instead of working to live.
To be in constant motion with life instead of observing from a seated position, fully present.
To slow down. To savor instead of gulp. To linger instead of rushing. To be patient instead of sidestepping over everything and everyone to maintain stride.
The Slow Lane
It is not just about food and beverages.
It’s a way of being.
A philosophy of presence.
It’s choosing the ceramic mug over the disposable cup - not just literally, but metaphorically. It’s deciding that this moment, this conversation, this coffee, this person in front of you, deserves more than the scraps of your divided attention.
It’s understanding that life happens in the pauses, not just in the productivity.
It’s recognizing that stillness is not laziness. That slowness is not inefficiency. That being fully present in one moment is worth more than being partially present in ten.
I am now enjoying lingering in the slow lane with my ceramic mug, savoring not just the coffee, but the morning light, the conversation, the texture of the moment itself.
And I’m learning that the richest experiences in life cannot be rushed, cannot be multitasked, and cannot fit in a to-go cup.
They require us to sit our “bones” down, to stay awhile, and to be exactly where we are.
I feel this to my soul. I’ve spent the past 8 years in the Virgin Islands where I fell in love with the people, the culture, the easy take your time, no worries or hurries. The genuine smiles with morning, afternoon and evening greetings. My soul felt at rest, I lived and loved and enjoyed working. Coming back to the states for a year now has been eye opening to how much the hurried life is just not me. I struggle but must find my own peace by sitting my bones down and just enjoy. I d still start my days slow and quiet with my sweet dog and reading my daily devotion and remembering to be grateful always. Thank you for your post, made me feel “not alone”🌼
I love the pace of life in Spain (never been to Portugal) and everyone lingers over meals/drinks there too. It's a totally different vibe to the UK where so many people rush around all the time. Boaters tend to be very chilled, as we move around slowly and pass the time of day chatting to everyone we come across. I lived at a manic pace until I was 61 and my life imploded! Not going back there again ☺️