Tea One Eighty
One hundred eighty I was reminded as I measured out the appropriate aliquot of water and placed it into the kettle. It should be 500 mls I thought but I didn't measure. I just knew it from the water level half way up the inside of the tetsubin. I have prepared tea almost every night for the past thirty years. That was enough of a measurement I told myself.
One hundred eighty it shall be I thought to myself. One hundred eighty degrees. But again I don't measure. I know by the sound of the hyper- agitated water being heated on the stove top. The restless sound it makes, a crescendo, then the decrescendo as water molecules begin to expand and then coalesce on the bottom of the kettle before boiling. The water speaks to me in a language I understand for I have listened to it, and it to me.
One hundred eighty it shall be I thought to myself. One hundred eighty degrees. But again I don't measure. I know by the sound of the hyper- agitated water being heated on the stove top. The restless sound it makes, a crescendo, then the decrescendo as water molecules begin to expand and then coalesce on the bottom of the kettle before boiling. The water speaks to me in a language I understand for I have listened to it, and it to me.
And when the sound is perfect, that is my call to take down the tea from the cupboard. A generous teaspoonful is quickly placed into the waiting pot. Heat turned off then the water quietens as the scent of jasmine rises and fills the kitchen.
The tea...a Christmas gift from a friend in Japan. I would have never considered buying it for myself. I could have purchased ten canisters of quality tea for the price of this one canister, but oh how I enjoy this tea! It comes from a tea farm near the home of my daughter in Okinawa. The smell and taste immediately transports me there. It's the earth and sea that I experience. It's subtle, yet sublime.
Lastly, one hundred eighty seconds for the tea to brew before it is tasted. Once again, nothing is monitored, one hundred eighty seconds is all I need to recite a poem written by an anonymous writer 'The Nothingness of Tea'.
Now is all I have
as tea is in the making
unimportant past and future
leave me recalling Zen
Quietly exhaling the day in to air
no words need be spoken
between friends
who met by chance
The chawan offered
thick green froth
steaming hot
rejuvenating my soul
Bittersweet warmth
kindness between friends
I realize
now is all I have
As I poured the tea into my cup I recited the poem once again. Then a prayer for family, and a lit incense stick for Buddha. Now out to the porch to view this huge moon I have been hearing about.
Thank you for reminding me of simple pleasures and kindness between friends Ten Ren.
