The Beat Coffeehouse

Weather: 31°, Sunshine
Coffee Shop: The Beat Coffeehouse • 1414 W 28th St • Minneapolis • First Time
Drink: Americano ($2.50 double)
Book: Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead by Brené Brown


Coffee
Welcome to my Monday Coffee Shop Hop. Wait, Monday? That's right, I'm breaking the mold. It turns out my Sunday left me no time to hit a coffee shop (don't worry, it was filled with only wonderful things). Not to be deterred, I took this as an opportunity to check out the only coffee shop on my list that is closed on Sundays: The Beat Coffeehouse. Unless you're paying attention you may never notice The Beat's existence, I know I didn't. It resides on 28th St just around the corner from Hennepin Ave. The storefront is very unassuming, and I must have passed by it fifty times before I knew it existed. Due to its mediocre reviews, it remained at the bottom of my coffee shops in the area, and therefore I hadn't made the effort to check it out prior to this project. I very well may have been missing out on a great work space, so I'm grateful that my busy Sunday led me to check it out today.

The shop was quiet when I arrived around Noon. I ordered a double Americano and some apple coffee cake (they were out of cookies) from the friendly barista, who I believe I heard say was a/the manager. They were advertising their brand new addition of soup, but I don't think soup and coffee mix well. The space of the shop is really wonderful. There are basically three rooms: the first room has the counter with a few bar stools, the second room is a tiny intimate space with a small couch, however it's right next to the bathroom so it might not be the quietest or best-smelling choice of seats. The third room is the biggest and main area. It's really great that the area is separated from the counter, because it offers a much quieter space (visually and aurally) to enjoy your coffee. The space is very open and has a ton of "white space" or empty space. It feels like drinking coffee in a ballroom, and instead of causing a cold-detached feeling it's actually quite cozy. The lights are low, the music not too loud, and there is a small gas fireplace. There are tables for two, tables for four, and even tables for eight. There are a few cozy couches and two pianos. This place is minimalism at its best, and I love that. Almost every table and couch next to a wall has an outlet, which makes working very easy as you don't have to vie for the seats with power.

They brew True Stone coffee, which I had never heard of. It's a local roaster in St. Paul. I actually enjoyed the coffee and was wishing I could have more (I purposefully held myself back). It's no Dogwood, but no one will ever be Dogwood. The coffee menu was concise and easy to navigate, but their website promises that they'll work with you to create your own drink of choice if you want.

One thing that made my visit very satisfying was the music. The barista had Last.fm radio tuned to music "in the style of" her favorite artist, but it was stellar and relaxing: Catherine Feeny, Indigo Girls, Damien Rice, The Weepies...an astoundingly good array of folk singer/songwriters. Of course, a different staff member may mean a less agreeable mix next time.

Book
If there is one thing you need to know about Daring Greatly by Brené Brown it's: read it! Read it, then recommend it to everyone you know. This is one of the most important books you'll read this year. And I say this year because you shouldn't waste any time; the time to learn the lessons that Brown provides is now.

Now that I've got that out of the way, I'll give you a quick extended version. Daring Greatly is a transformative book about how important vulnerability is in our lives, and how the courage to be vulnerable opens up opportunities, pathways, and hearts. It informs us how shame, and all of its variants, are the biggest enemies of creating an open and vulnerability-safe culture (and thus the enemies of creativity, innovation, and ultimately happiness). Brown gives suggestions that light a path toward developing what she calls shame-resilience, and toward fostering vulnerability in ourselves, in others, and in our workplaces, schools, organizations, and families. If you're thinking, "ha, vulnerability, that's just weakness!" then this book definitely for you. If you're thinking, "vulnerability, that's scary," or "this is wishy-washy self-help bullshit," or "I want to be happier," then this book is for you. In short, this book is for everyone. For years I've used "Show up" as a mantra to push myself into situations, to stop watching life and start living life. I don't remember where I first heard the phrase, but it truly made a difference and continues to keep me in the right direction on a regular basis. Brown repeats this phrase in Daring Greatly and the book, in essence, is about showing up. If we don't find the courage to show up we're willingly depriving the world of our unique and wonderful gifts, the gifts that we all offer just by being who we are.

After doing this work or the past twelve years and watching scarcity ride roughshod over our families, organizations, and communities, I'd say the one thing we have in common is that we're sick of feeling afraid. we want to dare greatly. We're tired of the national conversation centering on "What should we fear" and "Who should we blame?" We all want to be brave.
I believe that owning our worthiness is the act of acknowledging that we are sacred. Perhaps embracing vulnerability and overcoming numbing is ultimately about the care and feeding of our spirits.


People Watching
There were three other solitary folks who were also working like myself. I heard a few other people come in, including an older couple who stayed at the bar for a bit. The man spent a long time talking about Jesus and religion with the barista. It seemed like it was a good conversation, not a lecture. I didn't hear much of it because it was in the other room, but I heard the barista, in the end, thank the man for teaching her so much. A couple of people who came in seemed to be regulars, some day maybe I'll be a regular somewhere.

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