Tea and the axis mundi

— Came across a post the other day, a quote on tea. It suggested thinking of the tea cup as the axis upon which the earth was rotating — the central pivot.

Although a point of focus for meditation, this concept is far more than a mind exercise. Often in writings on tea we come across this state described, one of feeling as though the entire world or universe is revolving around you. This type of thinking may be very well viewed as self-centered in the negative sense, but when thinking is removed entirely and this becomes a state of being. Then it is simply accepting the reality of our, so-called, holographic universE — Indra’s net of jewels.

Tea can help to reveal to us, first hand, concepts which — from an intellectual point of view — are largely useless or perhaps counter-productive (when mis-directed). In order to truly grasp the process of tea — in its original context – is to transcend the process of study, and in turn become the art itself. Similar processes of self discovery are laid out in the study of Zen, martial art, meditation, and at times sport.

The discovery of this new frontier of experience is recorded in every cell of our being and we are forever changed by it. It allows us the broader view of life, that suggests the wisdom of walking over running, and unfolds the riddle of the tortoise and hair — in real time.

Wisdom traditions are often seen as cryptic by nature. They are indeed cryptic, and will remain so until we have operated on this platform for ourselves. My teacher of tea once referred to the art of tea meditation as the process of cultivating enlightenment. With each glimpse of the farther shore, it becomes clearer, and we are able to find our way back more easily — should things go astray.

For my part, tea is a process of meditation which can hold my attention. And, it gives me something to do with my hands, while watching the world go by.

Yunnan of Old

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Into the River once more — or Tea bags in the River

Together we set off into the unknown. This is the attitude I take, or which takes hold, when doing tea. You can’t enter the same river twice, as Heraclitus says. The past may inform how we make tea, but can only lead us to the door — we have to knock, push or kick it open. The tea session, over rehearsed, can be stale and dry, with rules of decorum taking the place of living art. Tea sessions, like dance, like art, occupies the living space. The imitation or reproduction of what another or ourself has done before is little better than forgery or at best homage. This may be acceptable for the art of tea (茶藝）but can not be called a Tao (道). Such is the philosophy of tea imparted to me by my teacher. I parrot these words, but have gazed loving enough into that pool that I’ve seen my own reflection in it.

A proper tea session is often the result of practice, but is not rehearsed. It breaths fresh life. The type of tea experience which some of us overturn worlds to find, is to throw oneself into the river once more. Techniques for how to swim are best learned in water. The alternative is to sit at the banks of the river, passively holding up score cards for the feats of others. As is often said, the Dao is a path which we walk. It is a philosophy of action. Action from the center pivot of detachment. Keep walking.

Silence and the Pretty-hand Technique Pt. 2

Part 2:

Pretty hand is a concept that we come across in martial arts as well as tea. It is something emphasized in the advanced states of internal martial arts systems, and is sometimes called orchid hand.

Some people will suggest that there is no relationship between the disciple of kung fu as martial art and what we call Kung fu tea. As with a lot of things in traditional Chinese culture, there is no clear distinction between the Kung which is applied to fighting and that which is applied to tea. It is believed that in order to truly understand the dynamics of tea service, one must also understand the inner-workings of the body’s energetic systems. In keeping with this system of knowledge, traditional doctors were very often practitioners of Qi Gung and/or martial arts. The belief being that the same energy which is used to injure or kill, can be harnessed to heal.

Kung Fu, whether applied to combat or tea service, is a force of energy which flows through a person. It is visible in the way a person holds themself, in their eyes and in the subtlest movements they make; the sound of their voice.

In tea ceremony, very often movements of exaggerated elegance will be applied to suggest this flow of energy. Sometimes the Qi or force will be present, but very often it is simply performance — not necessarily connected to the root of being.

When the force of Tea, of the moment, flows through us, very often we will find the hands naturally assuming more graceful postures. The water pours more smoothly and without sound, and fingers automatically curl to avoid a plume of steam.

To say then that a person has Kung, means something much deeper than a well practiced set of movements, or a style. It is the genuine expression of the inner world, in the field of the outer-world. Though we may not be able to see all that lies beneath the surface of a person who prepares tea with true Kung fu, we can very often feel it — taste it.