Tea Meditation

Tea starts the day, just sitting in its cup, cooling, looking out on the world and giving me a new sense of what’s possible. It’s not like coffee that demands attention and energy. Tea coaxes me into facing the morning, seeing the sun’s new light first glowing over the mountain. It’s a gentle invitation, not a monumental push.

And it tastes good even when it’s cold. I mean, coffee is nice when it’s poured over ice, but not so much when it’s room temperature. But tea, it’s like a barely perceptible breeze on your face when you’re walking through a forest and come upon a clearing. The grass moves almost imperceptibly, then your cheeks detect just the smallest movement possible in the air. It’s like a transcending experience that takes you from the here and now to there and beyond. It’s not easily shaken.

You take it home with you, not in a box or a brown paper bag, but in the intimate space of your mind. And if you’re very, very lucky, you might some day find a person with whom to share this. A person who will listen and feel the breeze when you talk about it and who will never laugh as you recall breathlessly the wonder of that moment.