A Ceremonious Tea

With a few simple changes in habit, adding a heaping spoonful of quiet attention, the act of taking tea may be transformed from ”drink" to “oasis”. Perhaps in the end, it is a medium for mindfulness, simple, profound… where repeated action with awareness is infused with ritual, is elevated by stages above the mundane.

Carefully choose ingredients

Attention to the tea you use is attention to your being. This plant was cultivated for medicinal and other uses before the first written reference, in the third century AD; there are many cultivars and nuances of flavor, character, and levels of caffeine. Your choice of leaf affects your experience in the moment and the continuation of your day.

Find a quality teahouse in your area, or plan a pilgrimage to one if the nearest is far away. Learn the nature of some of the varieties from the servers, who are usually well-versed in tea lore (I currently am favoring Oolong for its subtlety), and bring a small supply of two or three home to try.

Remembering that you water the body, use the purest you have at hand, from the cleanest source. In the city we have noticed that watering plants from the sink, with so much mineral and antibiotic processing, stunts the growth of more sensitive plants; so of course for our own consumption, and for everything else where possible, we filter our tap water. Consider buying from a reputable spring for drinking and tea preparation.

Prepare the water

Heat the water in a vessel that is enjoyable to use. We own a large kettle with a lid that sticks a bit and a pour that sometimes vents steam on the hands. I noticed a mild irritation setting in before I had begun the process of heating water; since my teatime was daily, the irritation was daily… so we keep the big pot for big needs, while my simple, original pot, with modest volume and no whistles, began my morning with less internal effort.

Each leaf has unique characteristics and needs. Some easily become tannic when brewed in boiling water, and need lower temperatures. Each prefers a distinct brewing time to bring out their best flavor. When you buy tea at a high-quality teahouse, the person that attends you will write down the best water temperature and steeping time for each kind of leaf: they have spent a lot of time choosing and getting to know their teas, and that’s part of what you pay for with your cup.

One doesn’t need precision, yet the results for some teas will be better if you actually measure water temperature using a thermometer. Oolong teas are generally at boiling, so a thermometer is not required: you can hear and see when water is at boiling. Other teas may be better (sometimes much better) when the brewed at 80° or even 70°C. If you prefer to keep your kitchen uncluttered, you might “calibrate” a burner on your stove: borrow a thermometer from a friend, and measure the time it takes to reach various temperatures. You will need a fairly controllable starting point, with a constant amount of water (one thermos’ worth), at a reasonably constant (room) temperature. Determining heat as a measure of time, you will better appreciate the nature of water and of the seasons.¹

Pour the heated water carefully into a small thermos, so it remains close to the ideal temperature for three or four pours.

Prepare your seat

While the water is heating, you have time to prepare your teacup and your seat. I like to sit on the floor, at a low wooden table in my living room. I have a little place mat to absorb any water spilled and to “soften” the surface.

I was introduced to the traditional tea set by my son Sen, who was steeped in tea lore as a teahouse server. Called a g__aiwan in Chinese, the set consists of a ceramic steeping vessel, which has a lid and a small pour spout or filter holes to restrain the leaves, and a slightly smaller drinking cup. The gaiwan offered for sale at teahouses are usually artisanal, individually unique, and of as many different forms and materials as there are tea drinkers. The serving cup rests near the center of the mat, with the brewing cup to its right (for right-handers). The thermos of water sits on the floor to the right of that.

I know the amount of tea that brews well in this particular cup, and find a spoon that measures that amount nicely; it sits in the cupboard with my tea things. I scoop one spoonful of leaves into the brewing cup and bring them both to the table.

This time of year, at four-thirty a.m. and without no central heat, it is cold in my house. After I make sure my sitting space is comfortably arranged (and freed from the children’s toys and books that yesterday scattered around) I bring a throw over from the chair so I might wrap myself in it. The blanket I use lately is a red flannel affair that covers my shoulders and, when worn on the diagonal, just reaches my knees with its corners.

The world is asleep; I prefer to keep the light both low to the ground and low in lumens. The kitchen has a little stove-light hidden in the ventilation hood. I switch that on and it keeps the room yellow-lit and dim. In the living room where I take my tea, I have an old cast-iron floor lamp that adjusts up and down along its entire height, so I bring that down to arm’s reach, near the floor.

Lastly, while one don’t need a timer for steeping either, I prefer using one to keeping count in my head, which adds unneeded effort and (documented) frequent loss of attention amid these bubbling thoughts, with the resulting cup of Acrid. Since I take notes on my digital tablet, its timer clock serves my needs well: most teas have steeping times in multiples of minutes or half-minutes, so I have a saved timer at one minute and another at one and a half minutes. I start one or the other depending on the total steep time, and tap to add single minutes for longer brews. I find the default timer tones… unsubtle; I have found that silencing the alarm and using just the visual alert is a fine option, consistent with the still space I am cultivating.

Pour mindfully

If you slow yourself to the world’s place (how perfectly it turns on its frictionless, timeless axis), you are able to observe smaller and smaller details of action: the intention, the motivation, the motion, the conclusion of motion, the result of motion, the consequences of motion, the continuation of motion… nothing is ever still, and every vibrant unstillness touches and moves within and alongside others.

So. Attend to the motion of your hand to lift the water. Open the thermos, aware that the excitement of the water reduces as, unisolated, it contacts the air around it. Pour slowly and evenly, in small circles that mix and free the individual leaves. On a second pour, you might wash leaves that have become stuck to the lid of the gaiwan back into the bowl of the brewing cup, and down from the side of the cup where they gather during the pour.

Your attention is focused on the cup during the pour, so let it remain there in a continuity of action: close the top of the brewing cup before attending to the thermos. If you place the water first, your mind moves from tea to water to tea again, and more frequently than you would expect, one forgets to close the water (also documented).

During short pours this may not matter, but if you meditate for an hour hoping for a warm cup of tea at the end, you have a fifty-fifty chance of being disappointed. Those are short odds when your tea is at stake. On an even more subtle line of reasoning: you spent a match, fuel, and time to heat that water, so honor the effort and the limited resources of the earth with this modest attention, an attitude of “taking care” that is healthy to repeat in small ways and large, throughout your day.

Next, give your attention to the water, setting it carefully in its place. Spills are not required. Close the lid so it retains its precious warmth.

Finally, start your tea timer and take a deep breath. Allow your Self (if one Exists) to steep.

When we look carefully, the many aspects and elements of even a simple gesture seem to stretch time: perhaps it’s more than seeming, and the world clock stretches and shrinks with our attention, or our lack of it. Become aware of the many actions within one action, the conclusion of action, and the continuation of action. Live each moment and movement more fully, as a traveler does when experiencing a new land, so everything is fresh and new, and a single day fills with as much detail as a week “back home”.

Enjoy your stillness

While by nature both contain caffeine, the essence of the tea leaf and its nuances is vastly different from that of the coffee bean. I find coffee to be an aggressive spirit, with a grasping, masculine personality; while tea is essentially receptive, reflecting silences and stillness, and inspiring introspection. There are a number of awareness practices that have naturally been adapted to drinking tea.

I begin my day with this celebration of tea, a small, green predawn prior to my morning meditation. My first pour is a gentle waking from sleep, and the second and third pours fill the better part of an hour. The leaves and water remain at the table while I meditate, and I often complete my practice with one last “wash” of the leaves, using a slightly longer steep than used for the third pour.

I leave my seat as I found it, cleared and ready for the activities of the day. Then I carefully wash and dry my gaiwan, placing it back in the glass cabinet with the teas and the books.

Not every moment is mindful during this time, but most movements are; and when the mind is distracted, or the body lacks grace, that ungainliness is thrown into visible relief, the shadow of a figure that has been lit by the sun.

¹ Example of times and temperatures

I took these measurements at sea level, using 2 cups of filtered water, at an ambient temperature of 60°F (15.5°C). The vessel was a 1-liter stainless steel kettle, taller than it is wide and with no lid – a regular pot with a broader bottom and a lid might receive more heat, and boil faster.

Since I am keeping all of the changeable aspects constant, and only have a few different temperatures for my teas, I keep a shorthand list. It’s easy to remember, so unless I dramatically change altitude or indoor climate, I don’t have go looking for a table of boiling times.

70° is 5 minutes 80° is 6 minutes 90° is 6¾ minutes

5 - 6 - 6:45

• Practice