There is more to pouring hot water over leaves that we then call tea. Drinking tea can be as elaborate as a Japanese Tea Ceremony using real china or as brutal as slurping a brown sludge in a paper cup that has been brewed from a teabag.
I love tea, all sorts of herbal teas or infusions as you also might call it, and also black tea, depending of the time of the day. My favorite, however, is green tea early in the morning. Preparing this early morning cup of warm beverage is a little ritual, not quite like a Japanese Tea Party, but still a little ceremony. I could almost call it my tea meditation. I boil the water and let it cool down a little. In the meantime, I put some green tea leaves in the strainer of my cup or sometimes teapot. It has to be a good quality green tea. I prefer the one from the Himalayas.
Looking at the word Himalaya on the packaging, my thoughts wander to Sikkim/India, where I remember standing with many others around a huge bonfire. Yes, I would call it a bonfire even though it was burning the remains of my Lama. In the Tibetan Tradition this is a beautiful act of saying goodbye to a person who died. A constant chanting and drumming and occasional trumpet fanfare could be heard. Now and then a sobbing of one close to the Lama, who could not yet let go of him. The air was filled with smoke of sweet incense and cedar, which was kept being poured over the fire. Offerings were made in form of shawls, called katag. The katags were also put into the fire as a sign of respect and love for the late Lama. The glare of the sun high up at the foothills of the Himalayas together with the glare of the fire, became quite intense. I stood behind the Lama’s wife and held an umbrella over her to give her a little protection. Now and then my eyes would wander into the distance to give them a rest. As I looked out, a white snow covered mountain chain revealed itself as the famous Himalayas. It was my Lama’s wish to die as close to his homeland as possible. So when he knew his time had come, he travelled to Sikkim, a former small kingdom, now a state of India, which borders Tibet on the North.
I let go of my remembrance and come back to brewing my cup of tea. The water has cooled down, and I pour it over the tealeaves. I cover the cup so the fragrance stays in the tea and set the timer to three minutes. Then I sit either in my favorite chair in the living room or in the chair made of banana leaves, next to my bedroom window, which is being hugged by the early morning sun. Slowly, sometimes still a little dreamy, I start sipping the hot tea. I savor this moment. “What a wonderful life I have. I am so grateful!” I tell myself. Indulging in this moment, which I devote totally to myself, gives me an excellent start into the new day.
Another occasion where I might enjoy a cup of tea is in the afternoon around four o’clock. This time it is mostly a nice pure black tea, again made of loose tealeaves, preferably from China. Pouring the boiling water over the leaves, I let it sit around three to four minutes. Although I have been to England as a young woman and was introduced to the habit of the legendary English “Five-o’clock-tea,” the custom of drinking an afternoon tea dates back to my mother, even grandmother. When I was a child my mother would bake a cake for every Sunday afternoon-gathering as her mother had done. Around four, she would set out her nice china. The plates and cups with saucers showed a delicately painted landscape with flowers and birds. The small silver forks and silver spoons would tinkle, and everybody knew, it’s teatime. My older sister Margrit, my dad and sometimes visitors who happened to pop into our house around this time, well knowing that they would be up for a nice tea party, would join us and gather around our living room table. In the summer we sat outside on our patio in my mother’s meticulously tended garden. The cake would either be a chocolate gateau, a chocolate cake with almonds, raisins and chocolate chips or a carrot cake. During strawberry season, it was all our favorite strawberry tart decorated with whipped cream.
I started the habit of my afternoon tea break a long time ago. Even when I was working as a therapist with a busy schedule, I took a cup-of-tea-long break. However, the tea drinking I remember most was in the summer when I had a family of my own. The kids were in school and I could take a restful moment. Setting out my beautiful Herend porcelain tea set with the pink rose-design on the little side table next to my lounge chair, gave me a little bit a royal feeling. Being a busy mother of three, I thought I deserved it. At that time I preferred the tea with a little milk, served out of a tiny milk container. As soon as I sat down and stirred the sugar in the cup, our cat “Pong” would show up. I still see him gracefully walking across the lawn towards me. He would sit down next to my chair looking at me, knowing, soon he would get his share of a cat’s cup-of-tea-break. I took my saucer and poured a little bit of milk in it. Then, I would set it down in the grass. Having finished sipping his milk, Pong would either jump up on my lap to get a little more attention or swagger kingly away and disappear in the neighbor’s bushes, all depending on his mood.
My last cup of tea I usually take before I go to bed. This time it is a calming herbal tea. Most likely a Lemon Balm made from fresh leaves out of my summer herb garden or from dried leaves in wintertime.
Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis, the formal name in latin), is a wonderful soothing herb from the member of the mint family. It is considered a calming herb used as far back as the Middle-Ages to reduce stress and anxiety and promote sleep. When I was teaching Autogenic Training, I offered a cup of this tea to my students before the practice hour.
Many years later, I met one 0f my former students at the train station. He said, “I have taken on the habit of drinking a cup of Lemon Balm tea and it works like an anchor. It takes me back into your classroom doing the relaxation practice. Just drinking this cup of tea calms me down immediately without having to do the actual exercise.” He continued telling me, “You know, sometimes I don’t even drink the tea. Just having this cup in front of me, remembering the atmosphere of your class and hearing your voice is enough to calm me down.”
What nice feedback, after so many years, I thought to myself, gratefull and I thanked him for telling me.
During drinking my bedtime tea, I let the day go by, reflect on all the good things that happened to me and again I say, “Thank you,” for all that was: the people that crossed my way that day, the words, which were spoken, the scenes witnessed. And even if there was something I didn’t quite like, I honor it, look at it and say, “Sorry, please forgive me,” and let it go. The time I spend with my cup of tea I treasure as the time I give myself.
So, a cup of tea is not just a cup of tea! It all depends with what I fill it. And I don’t mean the liquid. I mean the thoughts, the feelings and the atmosphere in which I drink it.