My brain wasn't feeling notably creative or alert that day. Nor was I feeling particularly strong, and the door was somewhat heavy. I couldn't tell you what made me walk in to that little place, but I'm glad I did.
Before me were a small collection of pretty swell people.
Like-minded. Big beliefs. Radical characters.
They held their own.
Their art was miraculous, and it glowed.
Their presence was strong, but oh so gentle.
They were the kind of people you put your phone away for.
As I enjoyed the company (and too many coffees), a wave of complete calm washed over me. Without warning I had become overwhelmingly mindful and steady.
Believe me, it was a mighty wave.
Nothing felt like it really mattered any more.
The nonsense and empty conversations that were surely waiting for me at home began to seem so much more manageable.
Every word uttered was soft. It felt easy.
Breathe in no and breathe out yes.
I became so acutely aware of every word. Every pronunciation. Every prolonged 'S' and every missed 'T'.
Any one of them could have declared the world was on its last legs and I wouldn't have winced - I was sure no one else would make it sound so sweet.
The more they spoke and the more I listened, I began to realise they were much like many others I already knew. This didn't destroy anything, not the awe, wonder or the admiration that had grown. It shattered no illusions, I still felt safe.
It was all the more powerful. All the more spectacular.
They were average people, with above average ideas.
When my time came to leave, highly caffeinated with a mind well fed, the door was even harder to open.
Except this time, it was for all the right reasons.