Darrin Marion of Darrin's Coffee Company.
I've been in a blah mood about Darrin's Coffee lately. I think it's because in the past 6 years, I've been through a lot to make this thing happen. I've been defrauded, scammed, lied on, discriminated against, verbally abused, stolen from, cyber-bullied, bullied, more than you could imagine any business owner, let alone a small coffee shop should ever have to endure. I've endured a couple of lifetimes of trials and tribulations. I try to remember Job 1:21, and keep moving. That's always helped. I recall when I needed an Indiana criminal defense lawyer and I was on my own, what was I to do next.
There was one little thing, albeit the smallest of things that happened to me today. It caused me to instantly want to shut the doors and walk away. I was ready to close down the shop, end Darrin's Coffee altogether. But in the midst of my "I've had enough moment", there was a little thing, actually a lot of little things, at least 20 or so that forced me to dial back. And remember the other side of the little things. Hopefully you'll watch this video, and it will make you think for a second, or see a bit into my eyes and you'll be able to use what happened to me and make your day and someone else's day a little better.
www.darrinscoffee.com/blog
www.darrinscoffee.com
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
Darrin's Coffee
Having a good time doing lots of new things, meeting lots of new people. Some of the best, awesome, in short. Check out the new website: www.darrinscoffee.com
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Unconditional Love
I recently read a quote by Robert Ingersoll. He stated, "We rise by lifting others". After reading that pearl of wisdom, I reflected. How can I uplift? The path of least resistance, would be by fulfilling an immediate and essential need.
What is need? Need as defined in the Webster Dictionary as "the requirement of something because it is essential or important". After thought and consideration, I concluded that the way to accomplish this task, as a parent, as a son, a husband, a brother, a friend, even an acquaintance is complete and unconditional love. Unconditional love means no matter what wrong, issue, word, slight or misstep I have to love. I am going to uplift as many people as I can today.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Coming of Age
Today was a very busy day at my shop. Saturdays are always busy, but today was just a slight by a touch, busier than most. Like always, during the hustle and bustle of the craziness that Saturdays usually present, the kids are helping here and there. Today was a bit special. My son had the honor of acting as one of the kid judges at the CruZionsville car show. He was so happy and excited, as you would expect any 10 year old little boy would be.
During a brief pause in the action, we were able to steal away for a moment, and he and I scooted to Tiff's truck. We needed to grab more ice, milk and water, like always around that time of day, things were beginning to get low.
As my son and I were lugging ice and milk jugs to my shop, plenty of women, dressed for a warm summer day, very conspicuously, to put it kindly, clutched their purses nice and close. While at the same time, giving that slight glance of alarm and apprehension that I've been exposed to, many, many, many more times than I care to recall. So many times, its no more consequential than a bird chirping, or the smell of a barbecue on Memorial Day. But today was much different, because Ian, my son took notice. When we packed up and were in the car on the way home, he asked me in his usual inquisitive tone, "Daddy, why were all of those ladies looking so scared, grabbing their purses like that around us?”
I then took a deep breath and I told him one of the few lies I've ever spoken to him, but also a truth in the same breath. I said, “Ian, I don’t know. I really just don't know." And then my heart became sad, because from now on, he is going to experience what I prayed he never would. He is becoming a Black Man in America.
And, I am going to still teach him to love a country that may never respect him nor love him back, because of the idea of America and what it could be.
During a brief pause in the action, we were able to steal away for a moment, and he and I scooted to Tiff's truck. We needed to grab more ice, milk and water, like always around that time of day, things were beginning to get low.
As my son and I were lugging ice and milk jugs to my shop, plenty of women, dressed for a warm summer day, very conspicuously, to put it kindly, clutched their purses nice and close. While at the same time, giving that slight glance of alarm and apprehension that I've been exposed to, many, many, many more times than I care to recall. So many times, its no more consequential than a bird chirping, or the smell of a barbecue on Memorial Day. But today was much different, because Ian, my son took notice. When we packed up and were in the car on the way home, he asked me in his usual inquisitive tone, "Daddy, why were all of those ladies looking so scared, grabbing their purses like that around us?”
I then took a deep breath and I told him one of the few lies I've ever spoken to him, but also a truth in the same breath. I said, “Ian, I don’t know. I really just don't know." And then my heart became sad, because from now on, he is going to experience what I prayed he never would. He is becoming a Black Man in America.
And, I am going to still teach him to love a country that may never respect him nor love him back, because of the idea of America and what it could be.
Friday, June 13, 2014
The Smudges
I recently read the beginning of a commentary in the Zionsville Times Sentinel titled, " Don't let the smudges limit your reflection". Didn't get to finish reading the selection because my new found blogging bug got me itchin'. I remember a story I read in a book by Buddhist Monk Ajahn Brahm. The book was called "Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung".It's a book, full of short stories, the kind of short stories that you would expect from a Western Born Buddhist monk. I was given that book during a time of GREAT SUFFERING in my life, and the stories in that book, often pulled me through.
I recently related this story with my business. But, I had to speak to it again.
The book begins with a wallop. The first story, "Two Bad Bricks", is about Ajahn Brahm's experience building his first wall in their monastery in the forest. He tells us that he had no clue how to build a wall, but, without a construction crew at his disposal he had to begin. Building a wall may look easy, a brick here, mortar there. A tap here, another tap there. Mindfully laying each brick until the wall was finished. Upon finishing the wall, he stood and looked in pride only to notice that after his mindful, focused efforts, that there were two bricks out of place. Upset, he set his mind to tear the wall down and start over again, but there wasn't the time to begin over, he couldn't. He had to let his error pass.
A paragraph later, Ajahn Brahm tells of an encounter while on a tour through the monastery. The visitor admires the wall, acknowledging the monks masonry feat. In shame, he immediately points directly to the flaws. Of course the visitor saw the flaws, but the visitor points out the perfect bricks. The ones to the left, to the right. Above and below. The many perfect bricks, the small accomplishments that help build a beautiful and perfectly functional wall.
The title of the commentary, written by Mark Moreland, of Body Outfitters in Zionsville, took me to the first time I read Ajahn Brahm's story. I recall smiling about half-way through the story, because I, began to think about my bad bricks.
I have a very good friend, John Hockett. John is a nut about Invicta Skeleton watches. When we were having a cup of coffee one day, I told him about my story of going to jail. About how we all are flawed in one way or another. We all have a brick or two out of place. And some of us just a few more. The bricks are there, but ultimately, do they matter? Do they affect the beauty of the wall, is the wall that less desirable? Is the wall worth destroying? No, not at all. They're why the wall is unique. Those bricks have a story. They can speak about how an out of place brick, can overcome its conspicuous obstacle to do the same job of the perfectly laid brick.
I thank Mark for reminding me of our smudges, somewhat like smudges, our bad bricks are there and as long as we get older, we may lay our own slightly misplaced brick here or there. In life we have to learn from, and understand those bricks stories, and how they add to the character beauty of a perfectly functional and very good wall worthy of admiration.
Darrin
I recently related this story with my business. But, I had to speak to it again.
The book begins with a wallop. The first story, "Two Bad Bricks", is about Ajahn Brahm's experience building his first wall in their monastery in the forest. He tells us that he had no clue how to build a wall, but, without a construction crew at his disposal he had to begin. Building a wall may look easy, a brick here, mortar there. A tap here, another tap there. Mindfully laying each brick until the wall was finished. Upon finishing the wall, he stood and looked in pride only to notice that after his mindful, focused efforts, that there were two bricks out of place. Upset, he set his mind to tear the wall down and start over again, but there wasn't the time to begin over, he couldn't. He had to let his error pass.
A paragraph later, Ajahn Brahm tells of an encounter while on a tour through the monastery. The visitor admires the wall, acknowledging the monks masonry feat. In shame, he immediately points directly to the flaws. Of course the visitor saw the flaws, but the visitor points out the perfect bricks. The ones to the left, to the right. Above and below. The many perfect bricks, the small accomplishments that help build a beautiful and perfectly functional wall.
The title of the commentary, written by Mark Moreland, of Body Outfitters in Zionsville, took me to the first time I read Ajahn Brahm's story. I recall smiling about half-way through the story, because I, began to think about my bad bricks.
I have a very good friend, John Hockett. John is a nut about Invicta Skeleton watches. When we were having a cup of coffee one day, I told him about my story of going to jail. About how we all are flawed in one way or another. We all have a brick or two out of place. And some of us just a few more. The bricks are there, but ultimately, do they matter? Do they affect the beauty of the wall, is the wall that less desirable? Is the wall worth destroying? No, not at all. They're why the wall is unique. Those bricks have a story. They can speak about how an out of place brick, can overcome its conspicuous obstacle to do the same job of the perfectly laid brick.
I thank Mark for reminding me of our smudges, somewhat like smudges, our bad bricks are there and as long as we get older, we may lay our own slightly misplaced brick here or there. In life we have to learn from, and understand those bricks stories, and how they add to the character beauty of a perfectly functional and very good wall worthy of admiration.
Darrin
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Bullies
What is a Bully?
I received a pretty strange email the other day. It doesn't matter much the topic of the email, I'm more concerned with the tone. It dealt with
I've never been bullied, as a youth, but funny thing, as
an adult I've been bullied a helluva lot. Not sure how that works from a
karmic sense, insomuch that I wasn't a bully growing up. Lately, it appears that the adults that like to bully are the ones that bully, in the name of a cause. Is bullying ok in any sense? And what is the best way for adults to handle bullying, in an "adult" manner?
Bullying has received a lot of attention in
Zionsville, with how the children and teens have made strides forward. We have new tools that we can use to speak to each other, email, FaceBook, Instagram and all other types of instant messaging. I honestly believe that these tools make it easier to poke and jab, without fear of being "hit", be it cyber-wise, verbal or physical back.
Anyway, back to my peculiar email. This person said some very mean things, didn't bother me much, because as a black male, semi-successful (as of late) business owner, my skin has and will always remain thick. They tried to insinuate that attacks that I've received personally, had much if anything to do with how I conduct myself personally or professionally.
Bullies, no matter what the age, try to take advantage of what they perceive a weakness to be. Fortunately, I understand it as such, and responded accordingly. But what if I didn't have the tact or fortitude? What if I was someone that had been pushed to that very point? How would I have had responded? Bullying is about respect. And to bully is to disrespect, but not in the way you're probably thinking.
That's a reason I'd like to be a black motivational speaker. I really believe I could make a difference.
That's a reason I'd like to be a black motivational speaker. I really believe I could make a difference.
Bullying is about respect.
Respect can mean several things. It can mean that you pay deference to a person's station in life, and show empathy to what they're experience. Or respect can mean something a bit different. It can mean that you are aware and cognisant of how that person can harm you in response to your attack. (Think mutually assured destruction) I don't think that most bullies worry about that.
Back to my email, I keep straying from that. I responded with respect, the one of empathy, not knowing what was going on in this persons life at the time, just to see how they would act. Today, like a bully in truest form, when faced head on, eye to eye, they backed up, out and away.
If I could give a lesson to kids and adults about bullying. Don't think about bullying as pushing a person around in disrespect. Approach people in the spirit of mutually assured destruction, because you never know where that other person might be going through, and they could be that loose cannon that would hit you, and very hard right back.
Family, there's no other choice
'I had a scary conversation yesterday. I was asked what motivates me. Then there was an awkward, pregnant pause. I answered on the third heartbeat, my family.
Some people see that the pinnacle of the social standard can be achieved by other means. Family is anything BUT the other choice. It's a lesson that sometimes is difficult to learn.
"A hard head makes a soft ass" is what my grandmother used to always used to say. But for some reason my head can't be hard enough, and it seems like my ass can't be soft enough. I've learned about the perils of making the wrong choice, not choosing family.
Some behavior is learned. It's been said that learned behavior is a behavior that was observed by an individual that they find it to be beneficial to them in some way. There's a motivating factor behind it.
Also, it can be conditioned. the learned behavior is a conditioned response to a stimuli through either voluntary or involuntary intent, so if a behavior can be learned, it can be unlearned as well.
When I behave in certain ways, I wonder where I learned, or what conditioned response or stimuli I've received in order to drive my behavior. I think that behavior is a series of choices. I'm going to make the right choice, learn a new behavior, choosing my family.
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