I thought coffee was helping me.

In 2013, I was working 15-hour days in Silicon Valley.

My answer to the relentless pace?

Coffee.

1x Americano at 8am 1x Flat white at midday 1x Cappuccino around 3pm

That was a good day.

On a bad day?

Double it.

We’ve all been there, feeling invincible with that first cup of coffee.

My Facebook profile made me look like some strange kind of coffee influencer.

I drank Bulletproof Coffee.

I drank Red Eyes, which is a double espresso poured over brewed coffee.

The names should probably have been a clue.

I thought caffeine was my superpower.

More caffeine meant more energy. More energy meant more work. More work meant I was doing well.

For a while, it even felt true.

I was busy. Fast. Always on.

Then being “on” became the problem.

The turning point.

By 2016, I had hit a wall.

My anxiety was constant. My focus was all over the place. My energy arrived in short bursts, then disappeared without warning. I was tired all day. Then wide awake when I finally wanted to stop.

Sleep had become something other people seemed to do.

I had bought into the culture of less sleep and more work.

Push harder. Drink another coffee. Get through today. Deal with tomorrow when it arrives.

Except tomorrow kept arriving.

And I kept feeling worse.

The thing I was using to feel more capable was slowly making me feel less like myself.

I realised I did not need another productivity trick.

I needed a better question.

What would be more loving for me?

That was the question I started asking.

• What would be more loving for my body?
• What would be more loving for my mind?

Not:
“How can I squeeze more out of myself?”

Not:
“How can I keep going for longer?”

Just:
“How do I actually want to feel?”

I wrote two lists.

What I wanted to feel

• Calm, not chaotic.
• Present, not stressed.
• Focused, not scattered.
• Energised, not crashing.
• Rested, not running on empty.

What I no longer wanted

• Jitters.
• Afternoon slumps.
• Gut inflammation.
• Sleepless nights.

I was no longer trying to do more.

I was trying to feel better while doing it.

Living in San Francisco, I had heard plenty of people talking about mushroom coffee.

People I deeply respected were experimenting with Lion’s Mane, cordyceps, reishi, chaga, cacao, turmeric and other ingredients I had barely heard of.

So I started experimenting too.

The first drinks tasted terrible. Not earthy. Not sophisticated. Terrible.

But I kept making them.

At first, I was only thinking about how they made me feel.

Taste came later.

Then less terrible became drinkable.

Drinkable became quite nice.

And eventually, quite nice became something I genuinely looked forward to.

At the same time, I stopped drinking caffeine completely.

The first week was brutal. Withdrawal. Fatigue. Irritability. A fairly strong suspicion that I had made a terrible mistake.

My body wanted caffeine.

My mind tried to negotiate.

Maybe just one coffee. Maybe only in the morning. Maybe the experiment had already gone on long enough.

But I kept going.

After that first difficult week, something began to change.

I stopped chasing the lift and bracing for the crash.

My head felt clearer. My energy felt steadier. My anxiety eased. I slept.

And when I woke up, I actually felt as though I had slept.

The next day felt lighter. More like mine.

I felt more present in my work.

More connected to the people around me.

And, counter to everything I had believed, more productive.

Not because I felt as though I was levitating.

Because I could finally focus.

Reducing caffeine was not just about finding another drink.

It was about rediscovering myself.

I went all the way and stopped completely.

Most people do not need to.

Sometimes changing one coffee is enough to change how the rest of the day feels.

I spent five years making it taste good.

The drink became something I made every day.

Then changed.

Then changed again.

I kept working on the recipe for five years.

I did not want to make something people tolerated because it was supposedly good for them.

I wanted to make something they would choose because they genuinely enjoyed it.

Something comforting. Something satisfying. Something that could replace a coffee without feeling like a punishment.

Friends started noticing the change in me.

They asked what I was drinking.

So I filled little bags and shared it with them.

Then they started coming back.

They told me they felt steadier. Calmer. More focused.

Some simply said they wanted another bag.

That was when I started thinking this might not only be something for me.

That recipe eventually became Moksha.

The drink existed. The brand didn’t.

In 2020, I ran the Bordeaux Marathon.

The trip took me to a beautiful house filled with paintings.

From the moment I walked in, I could not stop looking at them.

Art had always been a big part of my life.

I was an art scholar at university.

My first job after graduating involved buying and selling limited-edition prints by Banksy.

At this point, I had spent years creating a drink.

But I had no brand. No packaging. No idea what it should look or feel like.

I knew I did not want it to resemble another worthy health powder.

I wanted the outside to carry the same care as everything inside.

So I contacted the artist.

I sketched my idea on paper.

I told him why I had made the drink.

And, wonderfully, he said yes.

No Ordinary Moments began to take shape.

The name fitted something I was slowly beginning to understand.

The things that shape how life feels are rarely the dramatic ones.

They are the things we return to.

The cup we make. The way we begin. The way we stop. The choices that seem tiny until we repeat them every day.

The tiny things are not tiny.

Moksha was the beginning.

But the idea was never only about coffee.

It was about helping people feel calmer, more present and more like themselves.

As more people found us, we started listening.

Some wanted to rely less on coffee. Some still wanted caffeine, but a steadier kind. Some needed help sleeping.

So the range grew.

Today, No Ordinary Moments makes SuperLattes and supplements for steadier energy, calmer focus and better sleep.

The products are different.

The way we make them is not.

Make it useful. Make it delicious. Be honest about what is inside. Make it for the people who read the back first.

No Ordinary Moments is not about becoming a perfect version of yourself.

It is about making a few small choices that help you feel more present in the life you already have.

One small change can be enough to start.

Kia Kaha & love,
Chris x