Rite Of Extraction

It is like the highest of rituals, and like the highest of rituals, it is simple to execute and has many variations. It is not Communion, but it is a kind of communion. The vessel is cleansed, made clean of trace imperfection and dedicated in hot water. The substance is measured out, spoonful by spoonful, with care and appreciation. It is chilled to keep the odour of its sanctity, before it is subjected to the ordeal of heat.

The vessel is sealed, a filter caused to descend upon the heady brew. The crema is amber, and very tiny bubbles of lipid air can be seen on inspection. And even when I am alone, as now I am, there is time for contemplation and the gesture of memory for absent friends. No hierophant or godchild present now, no helpmeet or guardsman, no partners in crime. I sit in remembrance of all of them, and this pot of coffee is for all.

I face the quarter of the earth least likely to cause offence and I bow, and sip. I take a small burning mouthful for all of you, for all of them: for each of my absent friends of the old time, for each of my absent friends of the new; for each lady who made my heart leap, and each who made my heart fall, and for those who did both; for each man who stood by me, and for those who could not remain, and for the fellowship which is not and yet remains; for family, for the greater brotherhood and the lesser; for all who have shared this rite with me in friendship.

And it is a new day.