Cup of Tea
“Come on in. Cup of tea?”
Isn’t that what we say when someone pops in, arrives by invitation of calls by upset? Cups of tea (alongside hot water bottles) are the best, most comforting thing I know of.
A wise friend of mine, whose husband died a few years back, gave me some sound advice early on in my grief.
“When you don’t know how to get through the next moment, how to endure it, make yourself a cup of tea. You fill the kettle, choose your mug, decide what sort of tea you would like. You make the tea, sit down and drink it. It will take you 10 minutes maybe, and you will have got through that seemingly impossible moment.”
I followed her advice and the ritual-like tea making, often.
Tea ceremony
Today it has been my privilege to participate in a tea ceremony of Chinese lineage. The care and love with which the ceremonialist prepared the space, with rugs, cushions, petals, hand made cups and tea pot, let alone the tea itself, was beautiful. She told us the tea came from ancient trees in the forest, which had been allowed to grow to their full height within a diverse environment from which the leaves absorbed the rain, the sun and all the elements with which they lived.
When we drank the tea ‘medicine’, we brought it to our hearts and then to our lips and let it move us. Tears came as my heart opened and I felt as if the tight perameters bounding the concepts I hold of the world softened and became more porous. As I drank the tea, which became stronger with each cup, I opened to the rain falling gently beyond the garden room in which we sat, to the surrounding trees holding us in their embrace, to the birds singing and flitting within the garden.
The experience was exquisite.
Was it the intention which created the ‘magic’? I don’t know, nor does it really matter. This day, the anniversary of my husband’s death, a cup of tea was the perfect medicine.
When is a habit a ritual-like?
It has made me think about other things we do to make it through the day – and night – things we might think of as habits, which may after all be a form of ritual.
My ‘morning ritual’: cup of tea ( actually fresh ginger infusion with a slice of lemon but ‘tea’ is a good enough shorthand!)– always the same tea cup; meditation – always the same cushions; breakfast – same as usual, except maybe on a Sunday; three mornings a week meeting with two friends online to share and meditate (ever since lockdown – hurrah for friends); dog walk – almost always the same place, noticing the unfolding of flowers and the greening (or browning or denuding) of leaves . And then and only then my working day begins. (I do get up early!)
I run a singing group – small, all women and we sing for people on the threshold of life. I begin by leading us into quiet time, holding in our hearts those we wish to sing for; we light the candle; share what we need to; sing; have tea (inevitably) and home-made cookies; sing a final song and blow the candle with our love to those on the threshold. It’s a ceremony from start to finish, a ritual.
My friend goes to be very early, her two cats on the bed with her and every night she drinks hot chocolate made with cream, lying in bed.
Another friend can’t start his day without two cups of strong coffee listening to radio 2.
My daughter lives in Berlin and listens to The Archers alone, religiously.
I imagine we all have these routine rituals.
Anchoring
I think they are important: they are like ‘home-bases’ in our days, places where we feel safe. When times are good, bad and ordinary, these moments in our day orientate us, anchor us into our lives, tell us this is where we belong. I think it is part of our ‘human-ness’ to develop habitual ways of being. What I was reminded of today was to do them consciously, to take time to be present, to open to the moment and appreciate it. I remembered today to honour the world around me and notice the existence within it of the being I call ‘me’.
Enjoy your cuppa!
With love,
Nickie
News
Three things.
Firstly, many apologies for the series of technical hiccups last time – the broken link of the original notification email, the broken link to the ‘in conversation’ page and indeed the non-materialisation of that page for some of this time. For something that is supposed to be so logical, I do find IT mysteriously fickle.
Secondly, the conversation page is now up and running but it is collaborative rather than interactive as originally planned, so do please send me haiku (see last time’s blog if you missed it) and any other comments, ideas – rituals – and thoughts you would like to via the contact page.
And thirdly, I am going to post another blog next week and then have a gap of 3 weeks. I shall – inshallah, god willing and all that – be travelling with my daughter and grandson to my nephew’s wedding in Bulgaria. Senior railcard at the ready, I shall, I hope, return with stories of a journey into unknown – to me – territory.
PS
Don’t forget I have ‘cup of tea sesssions’ available! Short, supportive, informal sessions, where you can bring whatever is concerning you.
And, my in-person Wise Women Circle, beginning in July, is filling up: if you think you might be interested, read about it here. And please share the link.
I look forward to hearing from you.