I love tea. I grew up drinking the stuff. But it is not just a drink. It is an event. There is a feel to it and only experiences with a feel to them, are worth a damn. Yes, there are those experiences that we simply skip through, the ones we endure as a means to an end. Nowhere and nothing jobs, that pay the bills. These types of experiences are very necessary, to sustain our lives. The experiences that we really feel, though, they make life worth living. And for me, one of those experiences is a cup of tea.
It sounds odd, but I am odd. Let me explain (about the tea, not how odd I am). A cup of tea is a warm, fluffy blanket on a winters night. It is a huge hug with the loving words “Everything is going to be all right, I promise.” A rainy day from the comfort of your bed. A puppy with his tennis ball. A mother making her baby laugh. Do you get an inkling of what I am saying? Not intellectually, but emotionally. Isn’t the emotions conjured up by what I have described soothing, comforting, satisfying and soulful? This is what a cup of tea gives me. I love the sound of the water and tea mixture boiling and bubbling. The change in colour and the silencing of the boil as you add the milk. Standing over the tea pot, in absolute silence, no thoughts, just pure being, as you wait for it to boil up again. The dancing of the tea grains on the surface, as the aroma wafts up in bursts. I love the sound of a cup scraping on the saucer. The clinking of the tea spoon as you stir, and the different clinking as you lay the tea spoon onto the saucer. Then with the first sip, warm, gentle fingers stretching outward and massaging every fibre of your being. The deep, pleasurable sigh you let out as stress releases it’s hold, in a big lump. It is not just an event, it is a ritual.
I like coffee, but for me coffee seems very cold and sterile in its feel. When I think about coffee, I imagine throngs of suits and ties, carrying briefcases and important papers, all huddled inside the canteen of some great big and dull cooperate headquarters. Squeezing cubicles echoing cooperate speak. You have a bunch of twitching and fidgeting people waiting, like drug addicts, for their fix. And their salvation is a bland, uninspiring liquid made with efficiency, not art. A drink to facilitate the “actioning” of reports, the “unpacking” of those policies, the “brainstorming” of “out of the box” ideas for the new budgeting requirements as set out by “best practices.”
No, coffee will not do. I realise that it is all in my mind. Others will get the same feeling from coffee as I get from tea or beer or chocolate ( Don’t get me started on chocolate). It is all tied up to memories and experience. Like hearing a song you have associated to a beak-up. But isn’t it wonderful that these simple things can give you so much joy? It makes all that traffic and politics and shouting and anger, seem minuscule, almost insignificant. Little blips of momentary displeasure in the vast, deep and warm expanse of a cup of tea. And now if you will excuse me, I will allow myself to sink further into my cup, I should have brought my snorkel.
This piece of writing has no point, other than to reveal and serve up a slice of who I am to you. Enjoy the slice with your favourite hot beverage.