Grinding Coffee Beans

When I unpacked this time (what is this, my 37th move?!) I found an antique coffee grinder. I vaguely remember seeing it before but I don’t remember who owned it originally or why I have it. But the aesthetics appeal to me and it works well as a decorative piece in my 1900’s kitchen.

Fast forward a few months and a bag of Peets whole coffee beans landed in my possession. I opened the bag. Ahhh! The aroma! Intoxicating! Then the thought, “But I don’t have a coffee grinder….” The little wooden box with the grinding handle sprouting from the red cover fixed itself in my mind. "I wonder if it’s functional?” I took it from its position on the shelf and for the first time, explored the inner workings. I saw the grinding gears, found the metal lined drawer at the bottom, figured out where to put the beans. Pouring the cone-shaped cavity full of Peets, I set about grinding furiously!

It worked, of course. Those manual machines weren’t manufactured with “planned obsolescence.” They were built to last because that’s the way people thought back then. As I mentioned, I ground furiously trying to replicate the noise and speed of an electric coffee grinder, the only kind I have ever known. My mission accomplished, I enjoyed a pot of divinely rich, robust, flavorful joe.

The next morning I repeated the routine that felt more like a spiritual practice than simply “making coffee.” In the midst of the “grinding furiously” piece I realized my shoulders were tensed and I was holding my breath. Relaxing the shoulders, I took several deep, cleansing breaths and continued, more mindful of my body.

This morning, though, I changed my modus. I am not an electric coffee grinder, I realized. I don’t have to do it fast and loud. Not only can I relax my shoulders and breathe, I can slow this whole thing waaaaaay down. Slowly, deliberately, with deep appreciation for the ancient grinder and the beautiful, slightly oily beans, I prepared my coffee.

“What does this have to do with Peak Oil, or a changing planet?” you ask. In The Transition Handbook: From Oil Dependency to Local Resilience, Rob Hopkins outlines a plan for “energy descent.” In his words, “A society without access to fossil fuels would be able to do 70 to 100 times less work than one with them, and would, by necessity, look very different from the present.” And Charles Wyman of the University of California in an article for the New Scientist, writes, “ It’s always going to be difficult to come up with sustainable ways to support our unsustainable lifestyle.”

So I’m beginning to envision a future where I can accomplish 70 to 100 times less each day than I do right now. That looks to me like slowing waaaay down, right? And if nobody can produce more than that, the landscape of life as we know it will be unrecognizable. I’m thinking of scouring thrift stores and rural roadside antique shops for things like butter churns and maybe a spinning wheel. I’m getting a picture, not romanticized but down-to-earth practical, of a more self-sufficient existence.

And I’m finding I’m not alone. Now, everywhere I look I see change. In every empty lot in my neighborhood the earth is being worked into community garden plots.

People are organizing themselves into groups focusing on local food and energy production.

Permaculture classes are being taught at the university level. (Permaculture…there's another term I hadn’t heard until a few months ago.)

How could I not have known about this? The thrum of excitement is tangible here. There is no gloomy fear of impending doom. Instead there is focused action toward a simpler, more community based lifestyle. It seems a new culture is forming that offers a gentle descent from dependence upon our rapidly diminishing supplies of fossil fuel. If this is news to you, tell somebody. If you know more, tell me! Meanwhile, I’ll be slowly grinding my coffee beans.