Marlow's Musings 12/15/24
Insights, adventures and fun stuff from this week.
Audio narration by David Marlow
“Who made this coffee?” shouted the Staff Sergeant loud enough to be heard over the incoming fighter jets.
As Christmas 1985 approached our time in North Carolina was winding down. It began inauspiciously four months earlier with the coffee incident.
I had completed the most intensive avionics training in the military, graduated top of my class, been meritoriously promoted, and sent on to final training on the specific gear I’d been assigned to support. Kind of a big deal.
This was the Marine Corps and there is always a ‘but’ with each advancement.
We would attend class of course and be assigned additional duties such as mopping floors and taking out the trash. All of which had to be taken care of in addition to class and study.
My assignment was the Coffee Mess. In the Marines, this wasn't just about making coffee-it was a time-honored tradition dating back generations.
The coffee mess served as both a physical space and a social institution where Marines gathered for their daily caffeine fix.
Managing it meant more than brewing coffee; it was about maintaining one of the core gathering spots where work got planned, stories were shared, and careers could be made or broken over the quality of the brew.
The thing was…I didn’t drink coffee (hard to believe I know) and had never made a pot in my life.
As was all too often the case, few instructions were given: arrive half an hour before class, make the coffee, and check on it throughout the day making more as needed. Then clean up after classes secured (ended) for the day.
With no specific instructions on making the coffee, I looked at the giant silver percolator. After some examination, I managed to locate the black brew basket and stem, figuring out how the various parts should fit together.
After filling the urn with water I loaded the basket with coffee. All the way to the top. It was a container after it, why wouldn’t it contain a full load of coffee?
There wasn’t anything left to do except wait for people to start enjoying their morning cup. I didn’t have to wait long as in walked one of the instructors resolute and ready.
He entered with deliberate precision, every crease in his uniform razor-sharp. His coffee mug said everything you needed to know about him. Staff Sergeant's stripes in gilded detail against a red background, his name precise and centered below.
He approached the coffee mess like it was sacred ground, each movement measured and exact. This wasn't just coffee to him.
Drawing a measure of steaming liquid and then slowly raising the cup to his lips, he drew a deep breath to enjoy the aroma. The sip that followed erupted into a spray that scattered across the mess.
“What the #$%* is that? Who made this coffee?’
Not realizing the issue, without hesitation I stepped forward and answered, “I did Staff Sergeant.”
Without even addressing me his arm shot out, finger pointing and shaking violently. “This man,” he said to anyone else in the room who would listen, “is not to go anywhere near this coffee mess.”
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
He put up his hand to signal for me to stop speaking his eyes bulging. Then, with his hand still holding the cup of coffee, he gestured a half circle around the coffee area.
“Do you see that line?” he asked me not waiting for an answer. “You are banished from crossing that line.” Then turning to the audience that had gathered, “This Corporal is not permitted near my coffee mess.”
He then set about dumping out the coffee I had made and percolating something worthy of the sacred java temple but not before yelling for me to get away from him and never come near him again.
Unbeknownst to me, the brew basket had a barely visible fill line one-third from the bottom. I had put three times the ground coffee needed for the Staff Sergeant’s perfect cup.
Embarrassed I walked away while he and another instructor found someone else to take over the coveted role.
As I walked to class it suddenly hit me. I no longer had an extra duty. My extra assignment had been ripped away from me but since all the other duties had been assigned there wasn’t another one for them to give me.
It was the first time in my life being incompetent at something had served me well. As part of our training, we were sent to the active squadrons to work on aircraft and my coffee mess legend preceded me. I didn’t get mess duty or any other duty there either.
It was quite the adventure for my wife, young son and me. We weathered Hurricane Gloria living in a mobile home we were renting, an unsettling place to ride out a rare severe storm in North Carolina.
Then came two historic snow storms - the first severe enough to close the base, something almost unheard of in coastal Carolina. The second struck just as we were leaving North Carolina for good, heading home to Indiana for Christmas.
Driving through the Smoky Mountains at night is tough enough, doing so in a blinding snowstorm took it to another level.
We spent that Christmas in Indiana and then headed west arriving in Southern California a few weeks later. The last portion long enough to see Disneyland, load our car on a boat and fly to our next adventure in Hawaii.
The coffee mess incident was more than a lucky escape from extra duty. It was the first step in a journey that would take us from one ocean to another and then across the Pacific itself. Each mile brought us closer to places we'd never been yet somehow knew we needed to go.
Word of the Week
Fernweh (n.)
/ˈfɛʁnveː/
1: A deep aching for distant places one has never been
2: The opposite of homesickness; a longing for the unknown
From German fern (far) and weh (pain/longing), Fernweh describes an emotional pull toward unexplored horizons. Unlike wanderlust's casual desire to travel, Fernweh is an almost painful yearning for distant places that call to your soul.
Living our Ikigai often feels like Fernweh-we sense our complete purpose lies somewhere beyond our life, beckoning us forward. Like a distant light, calling us to our fullest potential.
When we embrace Fernweh in pursuit of our purpose, we acknowledge that growth requires venturing into unknown territory. The discomfort we feel isn't a sign we're lost - it's confirmation we're expanding beyond familiar shores toward the person we're meant to become.
In this season of hope, our journey toward purpose reminds us that transformation often begins with a single step toward the unknown.
In case you missed it…
This week there were again two Ikigai Thoughts for Today.
The first…As Simple as Possible
Einstein purportedly said, "Make everything as simple as possible, but not simpler."
Some take it to mean making things simple though that is not what he meant. I explore that in this Ikigai Thought…
Next…Between Mystery and Understanding
There is a fascinating tension between knowing and not knowing, seeking understanding and embracing mystery. This ‘thought’ explores something vital about how we discover our path.
Ikiquest+
This week’s Coffee Contemplations…Two Questions
In this first in a series of three Coffee Contemplations, I share the deceptively simple yet life-changing reflection of The Two Questions or TQ. I’m particularly excited to share this at year’s end to supercharge the start of 2025 for you.
Ikiquest+ subscribers can listen to it in audio narration or read the transcription.
If you aren’t yet an Ikiquest+ Subscriber, give it a try for free by clicking the box here.
Interesting Thing
Because my hip has been bothering me I’ve substituted walks for some of my runs. A few weeks ago on a bitterly cold though sunny day, I spotted this tree walking along a part of the trail I rarely pass on runs.
Something about the light caused it to silhouette against the sky catching my eye. I’ve been on this trail before and driven the nearby road thousands of times while never noticing this tree in this way.
It is a shagbark hickory that based on its height and trunk diameter is between 90 and 100 years old. This type of tree gets its name from the rough and protruding bark that makes it unique.
Thirty years ago when we moved to the area this was all farmland with cattle and sheep grazing on it.
You can see in the photo at the top of the page all the ground immediately surrounding it has since been cleared. Somehow even as the farm became a subdivision this splendid tree survived.
I plan to visit it more often in the years to come.
Comment of the Week:
Again this week, many wonderful comments. This one from Joanne in particular was an encouragement to me. Here’s what she shared…
“Your newsletter has been transformative. Before discovering it, I felt lost and disconnected from my purpose. Like I was only going through the motions. But week after week, your ‘Ikigai Thoughts for Today and Coffee Contemplations’ helped clear away the mental clutter that was hiding my true path.
Today, I'm closer to living my ikigai than ever before. While these articles have been helpful, I can’t wait to read your book where you've put everything together. I've already ordered my copy and encourage others to do the same! The wait until March feels long, but I know it will be worth it.”
This is a double bonus of encouragement. I’m thrilled that Ikiquest is providing support for her and more than ever I’m excited about the impact my book, The Ikigai Way is going to make in people’s lives.
Her comment reminded me to tell you I’ll be announcing some cool opportunities for people like Joanne who pre-order the book. Stay tuned!
Quote I’m Pondering
This thought is from C.S. Lewis1…
“The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing.
These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers.
For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.”
Final Thoughts
This seems the perfect season to reminisce about moments of Fernweh we’ve experienced, and long for those yet to come.
Like Magi and shepherds following a fateful light, we find both the tangible in this world and the ethereal in faraway lands we've yet to see.
Quest Well.
Lewis, C.S. "The Weight of Glory." In The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses, 25-46. New York: HarperOne, 2001.
Nice point on not being good at something and it being an advantage. Also the very thing would desire to appreciate coffee ☕️ later on.
Beautiful that there is a word for such deep feelings