I remember the old metal percolator that my Mom used to make coffee when I was a kid, before the days of the automatic coffee machine. I liked to watch the coffee bounce up into the hollow glass knob on the lid when it was hot and, well, percolating.
But tonight I’m remembering a different use of the word percolate. A guest speaker at one of my journalism classes talked to the class about her feeling that stories sometimes have to “percolate” a certain amount of time before they’re ready to show to other people.
I’ve been working on putting together a short video documentary today, and the project doesn’t feel quite right yet. I think it’s close, but I’m still waiting for that magic “Yes!” moment, when I know I’ve said what I want to say in the best way possible. So I’ve decided a little percolation is in order.
One of the definitions of percolate is: “to show activity, movement, or life; grow or spread gradually; germinate.” The optimism of the word strikes a chord in me. It’s so hopeful in its efforts to grow into something.
I’m going to put this project away tonight and let it sit in the back of my head for a little while. I think with a little more time and thought, it will germinate into something worthwhile.