The Coffee Mug Oracle: Starting My Day the Nantucket Way

I don’t believe in horoscopes, but I do believe in the wisdom of my coffee mug. No, it doesn’t tell my future, but it does know how to set my mood. My mornings begin with a rotation of chosen mugs from my motley collection: chipped ceramics adorned with Nantucket lighthouses, a souvenir from Harvard Yard, and an inexplicably pink one with a cartoon narwhal. Which mug I pick apparently reveals a lot about my inner psyche—or at least my level of optimism for the day. It’s a ritual I don’t question. A strong black brew fills the mug-of-the-moment, and as I sip, I stare at the Atlantic from the window of my writing nook. Some people consult crystals. I consult caffeine.

The Walk That Writes My Day

Once the coffee’s worked its magic and I’ve banished the cobwebs of sleep, it’s time for the second essential phase of the morning: the Thinking Walk. (Trademark pending.) If Nantucket mornings teach you anything, it’s that the natural world is an unparalleled muse. There’s something about the salty tang of the air, the rhythmic hum of the ocean, and the way gulls wheel overhead like they’re auditioning for the next season of "Planet Earth."

Every morning, I lace up my sneakers and venture outside, trailed by the ghosts of New England whalers and my to-do list. Writing life isn’t all pens and parchment, let me tell you—it’s a mental negotiation where you won’t even win yourself over without movement. On these walks, I mentally outline my articles, write dialogue for fictional sea captains, or, on more trying days, evaluate whether I’ve made the wrong life choice abandoning the financial security of that museum job in Boston.

Of course, inspiration doesn’t knock politely. Occasionally, it smacks me in the face somewhere between the hydrangea-covered cottages and the moody lighthouse. That’s when I stop dead in my tracks and grapple for my phone to jot down a note. Once, I dropped my phone during one of these urgent stops and earned the dubious honor of being "that townie" who fished around in the sand for five minutes. The lobstermen hauling pots in the harbor probably had a great laugh about that one.

So, what’s the takeaway here for you, dear reader? It’s this: start your day with movement for the sake of your mind, not just your muscles. Whether it’s a jog in the local park or just a walk around your block, let yourself be both present and aimlessly curious. You might solve a problem you didn’t even realize you were carrying—or at least distract yourself from life’s more frustrating emails.

Research and Romanticizations (With a Side of Breakfast)

By midmorning, I’m back at my desk, fortified with a second cup of coffee and a breakfast that, let’s be real, is 75% carbs. (Hot tip: if you ever find yourself in a Nantucket bakery, do not leave without a cranberry scone. Zero regrets, even if they’re not part of some influencer-approved morning routine.) My morning work depends on the day, but it often means losing myself in centuries-old journals or Googling obscure terms like "deck prisms" or "harpoon innovations circa 1835."

Research, to me, feels like a kind of time travel. Take dating, for example. Modern-day relationships might live in DMs and over-thought emoji usage, but scratch the surface, and the game hasn’t actually changed that much. People still share longing glances, wait for responses way longer than they should, and occasionally misread signals like it’s an Olympic sport. The difference? In the 19th century, courtship usually involved elaborate letter-writing campaigns. (You think sending a third text is overkill? Imagine handwriting 20 pages with a quill and being unsure if the ship carrying it would even make it across the Atlantic.)

As I dig through history, I often find little parallels to relationships today—tiny nuggets of insight that remind me how fundamentally human connections are. Flirting isn’t new, folks. It’s as old as whaling ships and the sea shanties they inspired.

Plot Twist: Romance Meets Routine

Here’s where my daily schedule takes an unexpected turn, since I write about relationships for work and, sheepishly, make all the same mistakes I gently warn others about. Take lunch, for instance—on a good day, it’s a balanced bowl of something green and Pinterest-worthy. But occasionally, I’ll find myself mindlessly scrolling a certain someone’s Instagram profile while absently devouring oysters straight from the shell. (Yes, really. Nantucket clichés are alive and well.)

Once, a friend accused me of romanticizing my tiny island life too much—"Not everything’s a Nicholas Sparks novel, Oliver," she said with an eye-roll. True enough. The everyday mundanity of my schedule, sprinkled with wistful moments in front of the sea, is far from cinematic. But therein lies the beauty, doesn’t it? My daily routine reminds me that romance—whether it’s with a person, a setting, or even an idea—thrives in the details.

Dating, at its best, is about showing up for the countless small routines that build love. Cups of coffee made just the way your partner likes them. Inside jokes exchanged absentmindedly. Or seaside lunch breaks where you quietly appreciate a moment together without needing Instagram’s approval.

A Story for Every Season

Afternoons are when I either work on my novels or write for this very publication. Is it harder to crank out relationship advice when you’re perpetually single and allergic to unsolicited small talk? Sometimes, yes. But I’ve learned that being an observer is its own kind of romance. I watch the easy laughter at a café where a couple lingers over a shared dessert, and I think about how different that moment would look in a whaling captain’s log from 1837. (Yes, I know, my brain works in weird angles.)

Writing doesn’t always come easy. Sometimes, my afternoon ritual of typing away in my sunlit office feels like a scene from "Little Women," and other times, it feels like clawing through mental cobwebs while being stalked by a deadline. But creativity, much like connection, isn’t linear. And some of my best ideas have come from unexpected places—a faux-pas on a first date, perhaps, or a long-forgotten shoebox of letters found in the attic of my parents’ inn.

To keep the ideas flowing, I occasionally break for "research," which is just a fancy way of saying re-reading Jane Austen or scanning TikTok for modern dating fails. And let me tell you, nothing humbles a 30-something writer like realizing a Gen Z video roast has more insight into human nature than three years of grad-school papers.

Wind-Down Time, Island-Style

Evenings are my chance to unplug—ideally by the water. Whether it’s a gathering with friends at the harbor or a solitary stroll under the stars, the ocean is a constant comfort. My day might have been wrapped around words, but this is when I stop narrating and let the meditative hush of the waves take over.

This is also when I remember that relationships—like writing, like rituals—require space to breathe. It’s easy to obsess over perfect phrasing or pick apart the quirks of a crush, but balance is everything.

The Takeaway

If my day teaches me one thing, it’s this: life thrives on rituals, but those rituals only matter if they’re tied to intention. Whether you’re embarking on a new romance, penning your own story, or simply starting your morning with the right coffee mug, leave room for little joys to anchor you.

So, tomorrow, choose the mug that makes you smile. Take a walk that wakes up your thoughts. And, above all, notice the beauty in the details—you never know which one will write the best chapter of your day.