Let’s Toast To That: Think Hour Spiral (ft. Chocolate Coconut Water & the 5 Types of Wealth)

📖 Book Title & Author

5 types of Wealth by Sahil Bloom - pg.248 - 249

🔥 The Toast Moment

“If someone watched your week, what would they say your priorities are?”

🥂Why It Deserves Toast

At 5:00am, I sat down for what I’d ambitiously dubbed my Think Hour—a bite-sized version of Sahil Bloom’s Think Week. I made my iced long black, opened my laptop, and prepared to map out my priorities.

But instead of clarity, all I could think about was coconut water.

More specifically: my 3:30am spiral.

Just 90 minutes earlier, I had found myself fully awake—measuring the inside of a cupboard that was previously wine rack to see if it could fit a 2/4 IKEA shelving unit for my chocolate coconut water cartons. Not in a dream. Not as a metaphor. Literally. Coconut. Water.

It had started the night before. We’d just moved house, and everything still felt temporary. That itchy kind of temporary—half-unpacked boxes, bare surfaces, the eerie feeling that nothing was quite in its place. My brain doesn’t cope well with limbo. It needs symmetry. Systems. Shelves that make sense.

I went to bed exhausted but was hard-rebooted at 3:30am with the faces of my heavy pantry items mocking me: chocolate coconut water, regular coconut water, soy milk, almond milk, black bean cans, canned corn. All the food I love, taunting me in the darkness.

My thoughts kept circling one absurd focal point: the chocolate coconut water. I’d bought it in bulk during my chocolate iced long black craze and it was now taking up prime real estate in the pantry—stacked like Jenga blocks waiting to fall.

(Quick detour—chocolate coconut iced long black is still the elite way to drink iced mocha. It removes the heaviness of the milk and gives you the perfect balance of sweet and bitter.)

At 3:30am, I snapped.

I got up. Grabbed the tape measure. Opened the wine-rack-standing cupboard. Emptied it. Rearranged it. Lined up the cartons like I was styling a shoot for Pantry Aesthetics Monthly.

I even wiped down the shelf with eucalyptus spray—because if I was going to spiral, it might as well smell clean.

Only when everything fit—snug, symmetrical, satisfying—did my brain finally release me. No, I didn’t go back to sleep, but I did feel an electrifying sense of euphoria. A rush. Like I’d cracked a personal code.

So when 5:00am came and I sat down to reflect, I realised this was the reflection. The coconut water chaos was the portal.

What I’m Spreading on This

This Think Hour wasn’t supposed to be about pantry logistics. It was supposed to be about big-picture strategy. Long-term planning. Antelope-level thinking. But instead, it unearthed something far more honest:

I use small, solvable problems to buffer against the weight of big, confronting ones.

I reach for the shelf when I don’t know how to reach for the future. I chase pantry mice when I’m too overwhelmed to hunt the antelope.

The questions from the book hit me square in the face:

• “If someone watched your week, what would they say your priorities are?”

• “What would your movie audience scream at you to do?”

They’d yell, “Zoom out!”

Because the truth is, I’ve been hyperfocused on details not because they matter most—but because they’re the most manageable. The chocolate coconut water was just a scapegoat for all the things I’ve been avoiding: career pivots, personal growth, creative risk.

And that’s when the penny dropped.

There’s a powerful tool I’ve been missing: perspective. As Psychology Today puts it, “zooming out” helps us reconnect with the why, not just the what. It shifts us from panic to power. And right now, I need to remember:

The shelf is not the goal. The pantry is not the point.

What I really want is to design a life where my energy goes toward what expands me—not just what calms me.

So I’m using this reflection to commit to zooming out—daily, deliberately.

Each time I find myself obsessing over the shelf, I’ll pause and ask: What am I avoiding? What bigger question needs my attention?

Because control is comforting—but it’s not the same as clarity.

💬 Final Crumb

Here’s what I realised: I’m not obsessed with perfection. I’m obsessed with peace. And peace, for me, often looks like a wine rack full of coconut water stored exactly right.

But from now on, I want more than shelf peace. I want big-picture peace. Not from micromanaging—but from knowing I’m spending my time on things that actually build the life I want.

Would repeating today 100 times make my life better?

Only if each day includes one hour to zoom out, one moment of honest reflection, and the occasional chaotic burst of 3am shelf therapy—followed by the courage to think bigger.

So… what’s your version of the coconut shelf?

Let’s toast to that kind of honesty. The chaotic, eucalyptus-scented, beautifully flawed kind—plus the brave decision to zoom out anyway.