The train sounds its mournful cry.
They are gone now,
No longer present to hear the whistle,
To see the graffitied cars roll past,
To feel the ground rumbling beneath their feet.
I can say no more
Let us have a cup of tea
And offer the latest from China.
But I can hold them fast
In memory and by recounting the many stories
Of how they lived while they were here.
Love and all we shared does not disappear.
Shards of a tea cup.
My hand trembled in the night.
Outside the ice melts.
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
Every being that had contact with this tea,
Be it an insect, animal or person,
Was just like me:
Each wished to experience happiness
And to avoid the pain of suffering.
So as I drink this tea,
A great happiness in itself,
Let me pause and wish for all of those:
May you be happy.
May you be peaceful.
May you be free from fear, judgment or ill will.
May you grow in compassion, wisdom, and love.
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
The tea did not brew itself.
The tea did not magically appear in the cup.
The tea will not float on the air to be sipped.
I have to act for these to happen.
Let me do so in a mindful manner.
That I might enter fully this moment in time.
Steam rises from the cup.
Consider these things.
I am so grateful to have tea.
I bow down to the earth that nourished it.
I bow down to the farmers that grew it.
I bow down to the masters that crafted it.
I bow down to the workers that transported it.
Om Mani Padme Hung.
“May all beings have happiness and the cause of happness.
May they be free of suffering and the cause of suffering.
May they never be disassociated from the supreme happiness which is without suffering.
May they remain in the boundless equanimity, free from both attachment to close ones and rejection of others. “
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
The cup which contains the tea
Has already been shattered.
The tea itself has been consumed.
Gate gate paragate
Parasamgate bodhi svaha.
“Gone, gone, gone beyond,
Gone altogether beyond,
Oh, what an awakening! All hail!”
I work as an alchemist
To blend my tea.
I start with aged shou puerh
to remind you of the past,
whether yours, the earth’s, or simply that of tea.
The specifics are not my concern.
I add toasted rice-brown and wild-
to add contemplative notes.
Think about what you will.
Then some cacao nibs and bits of candied ginger
(not too much)
for a bit of sweetness,
because life can be harsh.
But this is a tea true to my life,
so I also add at the end,
vetiver oil and aloeswood oil and cayenne pepper flakes.
Because dry and bitter and heat
must also play a part in this tea song.
Listen to Leonard Cohen when you sip it
and perhaps read Albert Camus.
My fellow/sister/whatevers, I confess: I have lust in my heart. I want two binchas of tea that will cost more than I afford at the moment…but…but…one is ON SALE and they sound sssssssooooo mouthwatering….and I can get 10-percent off …and I haven’t bought ANY pu’er in SUCH a long long long long time….oh, fuck, somebody shoot me before I talk myself into buying these! While we’re talking tea and ruinous expense, I also have my eye on some Camellia Crassicolumna Black, a rare and little-known yabao from Qianjiazhai, China for those times when you want tea but no caffeine. And I’m thinking about a new Yixing pot for blacks, b/c I’ve gone back to blacks, thanks to the wonderful He family in Laoshan. Of course, I can’t get a Yixing pot for what I could, say 20 years ago. Now it’s going to cost me dearly. But one must sacrifice for fine tea. I’ll get one this winter. I know the artist I want to buy from. He makes truly amazing pots.
