It’s not just the coffee that I love

That post was originally prepared for and posted to Facebook. For literary reasons, I didn’t change it’s text here. It was accompanied by a coffee shot on the dining table in my previous home in Munich. Good mood, cinnamon, cardboard and a lot of depth-of-field lead to what you can see here: 

Didn’t drink that one because I don’t like cinnamon that much.

Coffee pots don’t need to be round. I like big cups and I can not lie, I like them square and big.
To decrease timeline staleness due to having too many memes of wisdom (and admittedly cute pet shots) show up, I’d like to share that compact and mostly descriptive article, adding annotations that I consider worthwhile later on:

I’m sure most of you made some good and bad experiences with more or less stable mid/longterm relationships. Depending on when and where they happened, there have always been one or more reasons to venture on and being open to such a spirited encounter. Sometimes it was uplifting, sometimes it bogged you down, at other times it left you hanging unaware of any direction at all, challenging your ability and willingness to balance.

That article being straight to the point caught my interest, resonating with my preference to call things as they are. That resonance spiked at “The only option is radical honesty” in part 3. I feel that it’s appropriate not claiming the right to be honest but to a greater degree taking the risk to be condemned or categorized. Somehow, the realization of willingly and straightforwardly taking a risk removes the strain of circumventing mistakes at all costs. Sounds easy but I probably lost a year’s worth of sleep in total over internalizing that, tentatively applying that newly acquired courage to other parts of my daily life, including, but not limited to relationships.

Questions I’m asking myself (and you, dear interested reader) right now:

1) Why would I settle for anything less(*) than a conscious relationship, ever? Still, if I willingly do, is there a way to fulfill that deeply rooted urge for profound connections to people? Possibly outsourcing that to friendships?

2) There’s always a delicate balance between needing someone and being needed. It is that what keeps me lingering after physical and emotional closeness. Is there a way to keep that engine running on sheer excitement and a whole bunch of courage alone? Is it worth submitting a part of your personal wannabe-everlasting rocksolid self-sufficient foundation to your partner? Is it always better to ground self-worth solely on yourself?

3) Is there a way to truthfully enrich your daily talking and acting with subtle hints to intricacies hidden, probably deeply, within your personality? Basic assumption: You want to be seen. Semi-answer: I think expressing creativity does that. It motivates other open-minded people to see through those patterns that subconsciously emerge when you play with a pen, a steering wheel, your voice, a musical instrument or your coffee cup’s spume.

Any ideas, comments or experience reports to cultivate the discussion? Feel free to share, send me a message or comment if you’d like to read more along those lines. I’m starting to read a short book about interrelated topics in a few seconds. Since I’m the kind of person to read books and articles after I encountered something notable going on in my head there’s a chance that I’m going to comment on myself after temporarily delving into literature. That isn’t supposed to spoil your commenting urge though.

Musical support for today is a passionate piece of piano play, both relaxing and motivating:

Spume-swirling regards from the coffee side of life,

(*) “less” appearing dangerously close to “anything” indicates not merely an unburdened display of grasp but rather a strong opinion
PS: I’m allergic to cats, really

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