Perspective (noun): The ability to perceive things in their actual interrelations or comparative importance.
If the house was on fire, I would grab the kids, the dog, family photos, and my Ingenuitea. Ok. I exaggerate. I do use this little lovely daily…multi-daily…inter…daily. (Thank you Steve Martin.) My assignment for day #1 of 31 Days of Adventure is to look at something familiar from a new perspective. Today’s scene: tea brewing at my house.
The cool damp tea leaves smell softly tart, woodsy, and herbaceous. The addition of bubbling hot water creates an earthy perfume, dark and soothing. In an instant the liquid turns mahogany in swirls and finally homogenizes to a vintage sepia. Globules of air rise from the filter in rhythmic gulps. Beads of sweat form around the febrile outer lid. Leaves agonize in the scalding water, yielding their liquor to the heat. Exhausted, they settle on the bottom.
Holding my favorite mug, which now contains my favorite drink, close to my lips, the aroma recalls a plethora of memories. I remember digestive biscuits, cozy murder mysteries with my Mom, and sock knitting. How my daughter hates tea and scrunches her nose every time I make her try it. Long nights working on website nonsense and long days dyeing yarn. It reminds me of walks around our local tea shop and chocolate truffles, of tea shopping in Kalamazoo and hot cocoa with the kids.
My mind wanders to trivial questions like, what would I drink if not for tea? Who thought to pour hot water over camellia leaves and drink it? How did we develop so many varieties? What in the world does my tea lady put into her plum pu’erh to make it so delicious? And why did it take me 30 years to learn that if the cup is too hot to touch, the tea is too hot to drink?
I grab my purple fuzzy blanket, the one I use to hide from the world, and hold the steamy cup close to my chest. It warms my heart and fogs my reading glasses. For a moment, the world is quiet.
What daily ritual do you rely on to soothe and nourish your soul?