The False Promise of Cultural RulesAs I’m sure you already know - having read all my posts assiduously 😉 - I really love coffee. I’ve developed small rituals at home (shout-out to Rocco the grinder and Bambino, my trusty espresso machine) that leave me feeling grounded and quietly content.So here’s the shocker: I also love going to cafés.On a recent visit to our favourite café, I was fully expecting our usual “barista of the year,” Joshua, to appear and make our coffee (and yes, I was already looking forward to the latte art). Instead, an unfamiliar barista stepped forward and asked, “What can I get you?”I noticed a small drop in my mood (a ‘dopamine’ disappointment)You might reasonably object: “But he politely asked you what you wanted!”
And that’s true - at least as far as the words were concerned.The issue was everything that came with them: no smile, no eye contact, a flat, monotone delivery. The overall signal I received was something like, “I don’t really care who you are - I’m just doing my job.” And somewhere underneath, my sense of ease quietly dropped.At first glance, this seems to confirm a familiar idea: that body language and tone matter more than words. And of course, that’s true.But the more interesting question is this:Where does that body language come from?It isn’t random. It isn’t something we consciously switch on. Body language, tone, and presence emerge from a deeper place - from what I’d call state. From what the nervous system is doing underneath.In that moment, it felt as though my nervous system was interacting with his - and the two simply didn’t meet very comfortably.That small café moment turned out to be a neat illustration of a much bigger pattern - one that comes up again and again in my work.It’s the same question I’m often asked in a different form: “So how should I behave when I’m in Britain - for example, when I’m in a pub?”Of course, there are some useful things to know. But what I’m increasingly convinced of is that the state you bring to the interaction matters far more than knowing a list of cultural rules.The “just learn the rules” approach has a few problems.First: who defines these rules? A book? A course? One person you once met? In reality, norms vary widely within any culture - by region, generation, personality, and context. Treating them as fixed and objective is risky, especially now that most people are exposed to multiple “ways of doing things” at once.Second - and more importantly - this approach quietly assumes a particular paradigm: that the visitor should adapt completely to the person who is ‘at home’. But do we really want that kind of total, one-way adaptation? What happens to the visitor’s identity, needs, and sense of self in this scenario? And how sustainable is that for any real relationship?Interestingly, being ‘open’ and negotiating a mutual solution ‘in a third place’ is how I used to argue. And all of that reasoning is still valid - with one important caveat.It’s all downstream of state.If the nervous system isn’t settled - if there’s tension, bracing, or disengagement - then even the most accurate cultural behaviour won’t land well. And if the state is open and regulated, small deviations from the norm are often not just tolerated, but welcomed.So if I were to revise my advice to someone heading into a British pub, it would now sound more like this:Cultivate a positive, open state. Be curious. Be willing to connect. Don’t be afraid to try things.Your contribution will almost certainly vary from the cultural norm - and that’s not a problem. In fact, when the state is right, that variation often becomes interesting. That’s where connection shifts from careful adaptation to something more collaborative.Not compliance - but synergy.____________________________Morning Coffee Routine☕️ Why I Love My Morning Coffee RitualLike most people, I’ve noticed how tricky it’s become to actually stay present these days. So when I realised there was one thing that effortlessly and joyfully brought me back to presence, I sat up and paid attention.It’s my morning coffee ritual, with “Bambino” as the main character (yes, that’s what I call my espresso machine 😉) and “Rocco” (the bean grinder ☕️). Every morning we have our little moment together. And then I started wondering: why do I love this so much?Fast-forward to quite a bit of brain research (and, OK fine, the odd chat or two with ChatGPT 😅) — and here’s what I discovered:The extraordinary thing, it turns out, is that it’s not just the caffeine that makes us feel good — it’s the doing itself. The tiny sequence of actions that somehow feels just right: weighing the beans, hearing Rocco’s low rumble, tamping, pressing the button, watching the syrupy stream appear. Each step has a beginning, middle, and end. In essence, it’s a satisfying, completed loop — made up of smaller ones, each sitting in that sweet spot between skilled attention and relaxed flow.You might think, “Okay, so completing stuff feels good… duh.” But it’s a little more complex than that. It’s not just satisfaction — it’s stability for your brain.When the brain completes a full loop, dopamine rises and then gently settles again. That return to baseline teaches calm. It’s the difference between the steady contentment of closing a loop and the restless craving of chasing one — the empty dopamine spike that never quite lands.This mini-dose of dopamine after each completed action is the deserved kind, we might call it “integrity” dopamine (not the cheap kind that comes from scrolling or binging).It has integrity because there was effort, order, and meaning. You proved to yourself that you can shape the world — even just a few square inches of it — with care and precision. In that moment, the brain registers: I’m an agent, not a consumer.And in a world that constantly invites us to react, that small act of authorship — of doing something on your own terms — might just be the most meaningful thing you do all day.ps. I’m planning to share one of these each week — short notes on what helps us stay present, connected, and a little more alive to the moment.