Life is a river of ebb and flow. I’ve recently been in an ebb, a ride out at sea looking around at the endless ocean with wonder. Tea time was a daily ritual these last few months, alone and in company. There is a reason there are hundreds of quotes from philosophers over the centuries of the preciousness of tea and time of contemplation possible over this ritual. It has become a place of deep contemplation, peace, and acceptance for me, I could almost say it’s a meditation.

I prepare the kettle of hot water, the leaves of tea call for my attention. They were harvested so they must be put to use in the most impeccable manner. So I sit, and I pour the water and watch them infuse the water, creating a mixture for the soul to consume. It becomes a symbiotic relationship where I must pay respect to the tea leaves by tasting the earth, the dirt that they were raised in and the knowledge they can pass on to me, but only if I listen.

Instead of posting quotes from others as I usually do, I am going to practice some vulnerabili-tea (I had to) and put up a poem that I recently wrote about this relationship. One of my own experiences with tea.

As the ritual becomes ritual (see definition below), everything in life tastes just a bit sweeter. I encourage you all to pick up this ancient practice.

  1. a religious or solemn ceremony consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order.

I am stripped down,

My conscious is naked.

I know nothing.

This is not Samadhi,

Or Unity, or Enlightenment.

It is the nakedness in a room full of 100 fully clothed people.

I arrive to another town,

Another distraction.

The bushes are trimmed so precisely

They take on an alien persona.

The moon is brown with smut,

And the humans take on this same alien persona.

I drink my tea.

I am kissed by the wind,

Mother says it will be ok,

And the birds sing me a song.

Some might say this is depression,

I ponder this idea,

And decide it is life.

It is a beautiful life,

As I can taste the fruits of the earth.


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