Why I Drink Bourbon

It’s not about the burn. It’s certainly not about getting drunk. And it’s definitely not about the label or the bottle flex.

I drink bourbon because it slows things down.

In a world that is full of noise, phone notifications and responsibilities, a glass of bourbon is a moment of silence. After a long week of work with deadlines to meet, mistakes to correct and dealing with people, good and bad, I don’t need noise. I need a pour that pulls me back into myself—to quiet all the self doubt, stress and the worries that can consume me.

I drink bourbon because it reminds me of craft—of hands that built barrels, of the distillate aging patiently in the charred oak, of time that doesn’t rush. It’s wood and fire and earth. It’s honest. Bourbon has one purpose and it achieves its purpose in time. Bourbon reminds me to make the best of the life I have.

The silence begins in the ritual of the pour. The sound it makes as the ice hits the glass. The smell that emits after the cork is removed. Bourbon silences the life I have to live and takes me to the life i am working towards. Bourbon belongs by the fire, in the woods, or beside a cold mountain stream. It's not for the club. It's for the cabin.

Bourbon doesn’t care what you wear. It doesn’t care who you’re trying to impress. And neither do I.

I drink bourbon because it matches the life I’m building—raw, deliberate, and a little wild around the edges.

And that’s reason enough.