The Quattro Principle
To try and live out a pattern, form and discipline seems to underpin many of my efforts to cobble together something of a creative life in the midst of family and professional necessity. Inherent to this, and of course critical to the vocation of husband, father, and contemplative, is an orderly attachment to the things of this world. Orderly in the sense of being well-ordered, in relation to one another, and in relation to God. The question of coffee is healthy to examine, being that my attachment to it can become, quite easily, disordered and distorted, disrupting the ways in which I relate to all other designs, desires and demands. Thus, I’ve established a clear rule by which I engage with the bean and brew. It’s the Quattro Principle. Four a day. No more. No less.
It’s an exercise in temperance, and deliberate indulgence, I tell myself. Would I happily drink more than these four? Without a doubt. I could contentedly sip away at freshly brewed espresso all day, every day, if it wasn’t going to implode my pituitary gland, or end in some similarly disastrous outcome. But even if it wasn’t going to result in such a reckoning, the notion of self-indulgent satiation running around the clock sounds spiritually disastrous, even if the body could endure such abuse. It’s not in our best interest to experience gratification ad nauseum, dulling us to the importance of patience, fasting, sacrifice and penance. Thus it’s not the Cinque Principal, or Sei or Sette Principal, which really don’t have the same charm, do they? Five coffees a day? An outrageous idea. Four is perfect really, isn’t it?
And rest assured, there is an endless array of combinations in which the Quattro Principal can be applied. A double shot in the morning? Bring it to a long black? The silk and body of an espresso? A flat white for a little indulgent treat? A good old Americano, with the hot water added after the espresso is made? It’s important to read the signs and times, and react accordingly. Say, perhaps, your twin four year old boys have been rocking their favourite party trick, referred to as the Paternal Nocturnal Deprivative Alternating Wake Sleep Cycle, in which they take turns waking in a panic and insisting you wear a long sleeved top on the hottest night of the year and accompany them back to bed, used to torture prisoners of war in 18th Century Indochina (probably, I guess)? There is the option of starting with the double, then spacing out the third and fourth, to carry you through the afternoon a little easier.
Looking to prioritise a good night’s sleep? Batch the first three by midday and round it out with the fourth in the early afternoon, rather than later. An impending visitor in the afternoon? Hold off on the third and enjoy the last two in the company of a love one. Woken up feeling sprightly? Hold off on the first till you get to work, then space them out for maximum distribution of caffeine throughout the day. Does circumstance and circumspection keep you from a quality cup? Hold off until the time is right and you won’t poison your nervous system with instant coffee, I’d suggest, unless you run the risk of missing two rounds in your daily routine. Sometimes, you need to take the bitter pill to live and fight (and brew) another day.
The principle bears all the hallmarks of the discipline of commitment, which I’d like to explore with tongue firmly in cheek, if you’ll permit me. I think of John the Baptist living on locusts and wild honey, and picture myself in a goat skin, living off coffee beans and water boiled in a boar skull. Stay awake, for you know not the hour? I’ve got this covered. It can be a source of (well deserved) ire when my beloved wife hears the coffee machine at home grinding the beans, when there are seven children to be wrangled, showered and fed. But I’ve made a commitment, darn it, and far be it for me to turn my back on the Quattro Principle. There is a slight delay in proceedings, of course, and I may appear to move more slowly with a cup of coffee in my hand (as she’s duly noted); but the overclocking of my mental processing and reaction times far outweigh the perceived reduction in steps taken or towel revolutions per minute, I assure you.
A lesser man may falter and fall. Only three cups today he tells himself, turning away from his children so they don’t see the tears in his eyes, the shame overwhelming him. Not me, sir. When I say four, I mean four, and my sons will grow up knowing that I’m a man of my word. There are worse vices of course, and if I can hinge my craving and satisfaction on the brown bean, I feel that I’m (rather responsibly) displacing a host of other attractions and addictions that befall those unable to commit to the Quattro Principle. How many of the addicted, obese, askew could have been saved if their drug of choice was a long black, rather than a long lunch or an opiate based bender? We can only wonder, and hope that more may join our fold and declare that they commit to four, no less, no more.
Flexibility and adaptability need only be applied to the manner, means and form of coffee consumed. Never the number. Remain resolute, bold and well bolstered by the responsible brew of choice, knowing that commitment, resolve and fidelity to a life well lived can be as complex as the vocation of marriage and fatherhood; but sometimes, as simple as a cup of coffee enjoyed with humility and gratitude - no matter the sacrifices that must be made.
by Gaetano Carcarello