There are about 70 days left of winter, so the vast bulk of it is yet to come, but rather than view it that way, I’m focusing on the subtle joys of the season, doing what I can to embrace or at least accept the present moment, one day at a time. That means finding happiness in the simple act of sitting down to savor a cup of tea.
If taken slowly and mindfully, the mere act of making tea can be a therapeutic and almost meditative experience. One begins with a kettle on the stove-top, and the life-nourishing addition of clean, pure water. As the water heats, a mug is chosen, along with the tea. I find mint or ginger or lemongrass works well for me at this time of the year. For something slightly more floral I’ll go with an Earl Grey and occasionally a chamomile or lavender for evening enjoyment.
Once the water is near boiling, I’ll let the tea steep for the recommended time (and timing is important with tea, as various teas want differing steeping periods to avoid bitterness). Then there is the minor and all-too-under-rated moment of waiting for the tea to cool slightly. This is a moment ripe for meditative contemplation, a built-in check of the universe to force us to slow down, lest we burn ourselves on scalding tea. Most people fill it with something else – scrolling through their phone or computer, reading the mail or a magazine, rushing to complete some other task that can wait – instead of simply sitting with themselves, their thoughts and their tea. But this is precisely the most magical part of the tea tradition – the moment just before one actually takes the first sip. All hope and promise and possibility are in that pregnant moment of time, and we all too often rush right by it, letting it go.
So let this be a reminder, as much, if not more, for myself than anyone else who may read these words. Slow down. Savor the moments before, during, and after a cup of tea. Give your mind a break from the rush of the world and the rage of the winter. We deserve to be more mindful of ourselves.
