Katie Lebel Warm Compassion Cup

I once knew a woman named Katie who gave me a mug. Not just any mug—a vessel of such aggressive warmth that I felt obligated to drink from it while sitting in a therapist's office, which seemed redundant. This cup, bearing her name and presumably her philosophy, arrives in your life with the kind of gentle insistence of a well-meaning relative who's read one self-help book and won't stop talking about it.

It's ceramic, which means it breaks if you're clumsy, and it holds liquid, which is what cups do. The "warm compassion" part is harder to quantify. I assume it works best when you're holding something hot—coffee, tea, or perhaps the realization that you've spent money on a mug with an aspirational name. There's something oddly French about that, isn't there?

Naming inanimate objects as though they might develop feelings if we're kind enough to them. Whether you're the sort of person who needs a cup to remind you to be compassionate, or you're simply drawn to the idea of drinking from something that sounds like it was designed by someone who attended a very expensive wellness retreat, this is the mug for you.

It sits on your shelf or in your hand, doing exactly what it was made to do, which is more than most of us can say about ourselves.