Another year

At some point, I lost my voice with tea. I lost the ability to listen to the way every single cup spoke to me; carried me through the nights of learning how to carve out my identity and live on as a single father. It taught me that patience is often rewarded with discovery and enlightenment. At some point, I stopped making it an important part of my daily ritual. In the past year, I've moved twice, and found myself in rooms and beds unknown, laughing in the company of strangers more than the familiar faces. I've warmed up to drinking coffee, even shitty coffee, and neglected the cakes of pu-erh which have always been proudly displayed in my home. I had even lost the appreciation for the swirling accumulation of sediment in the bottom of the mug.

Today, however, it hit me; those experiences in which we seem to control the flow of time, they are often the most cathartic. The ceremony of tea, whether it be authentic and true to tradition, or simply routine that takes over as soon as the water begins to boil is important, and becomes a vital part of the experience. Like prepping dough for pizza, there are steps and ingredients that are not always tangible, such as the passage of time and the process for kneading out the bubbles. So, tonight, I spent a few minutes taking in the aroma pouring off the shelves in the tea closet. It felt like sifting through old love letters, each of them carrying a particular heft and bound to the fibrous strands tying the past to the present. I took in the aroma of the heated gaiwan filled with dry leaf, and made time to appreciate the bouquet of the flush. Just like those old letters, I often remember the contents without having to unwrap them. I am transported to the nights of confusion and conversation, fumbling around with a new partner, unsure of what to expect, but tonight, this feels like home. It's not a new set of freckles on an unfamiliar shoulder.

At least pu-erh doesn't mind being neglected.

jamus~

Stretching

This morning, I was fortunate enough to attend my daughter's dance class, and what a little lady she has become! It's incredible to me that in spite of how much I've seen her grow these past three years, physically, she's just a drop of water in a vast ocean. At some point, you can no longer experience it with eyes alone.

A Life Lesson (+ An Informal Symposium)

Hello friends,

It's been a while, I know. I've got a two-part entry for today. The first is a blog post that isn't about tea (sorry, money-squeeze right now). The second part, loosely related to the post, is hopefully to solicit some feedback. I'll lay out the scenario after the post. As always, thank you for reading, and I welcome your thoughts. ^__^

A couple of weeks back, I took my daughter to Parmenter's Cider Mill in Northville, Mi. It's been one of my favourite places to frequent during autumn, and on the way back, we spotted this little guy. I showed it to Grace and she said "Daddy, what kind of silly bug is that?!?!?" I told her it was a Praying Mantis.

It took me back to my childhood, when I used to try to look after every butterfly, baby bird, and other creepy crawly that I found on the sidewalk without a family. Something in my child brain told me that these little creatures needed looking after. One such summer, I found a mantis and of course, it needed a home within the empty fishbowl in my basement. Eventually, it became a pet, and the number of crickets that became helpless victims was absolutely mind boggling. I figured that the mantis just had a huge appetite, but as it turned out, the mantis was getting ready to carry out it's role in the cycle of life. That fall, it laid an egg case and shortly after, passed away during the night. The egg case housed anywhere from 100-400 mantids. Come spring, the eggs hatched, and we grew our own fruit flies to feed them. Eventually, I took them outside, opened the lid of the case and watched them disperse.

That was my first real lesson on just how different the nature of life and death is through the many species that inhabit this planet. The male often dies immediately during or after mating, and the female won't have any maternal role in the life of her children. Further, only 10% of the offspring will survive. It's an amazing process to see start to finish.

It's kind of a mindfuck. Let's back it up and build a new perspective on the world we presently live in. Say you only had a 10% chance of survival, and you made it. You spend your entire life looking for a partner (so far it's not too strange), and when you finally find a mate, you learn nothing about her. You don't talk much, but instead, just do the deed (still not terribly uncommon in the real world), copulate, and as your final duty for your children, you become a high-energy food source to ensure your kids get off to a good start. You never get a chance to meet your kids, and after you kick the bucket, your partner drops the kids off in an egg case and hightails it just in time to enjoy the last little bit of her own life. Eventually, your cannibalistic saplings race head to head in an attempt to survive long enough to do it all over again. Aside from the obvious part where you might get your dome chomped, the basics of life are all covered, and in a roundabout way, still can be related to the cycle of life and partnership as some people experience it, right down to the part where some parents never play a significant role in their children's lives.

So then, what makes it different? What puts us on a different level? It puzzles me; we have a nature to learn and grow, adapt to change, and be social. We build upon our previous generation by sharing our experiences and knowledge, and even though the primal behaviours don't change, we get to experience the cycle of living on a very different level than many of the other creatures we share our world with. We'd be fools to forget that. Take every single day, every experience with this in mind. Share your thoughts, even if you think they're stupid. You'll learn, you'll grow, you'll connect.

Sometimes I forget the inquisitive nature of children is just as important to their development and growth as keeping the freezer stocked with food and the fridge loaded with juice. Sometimes I forget to respond appropriately when Grace says "Look Dad, that dog is brown!" Some dogs are brown; all adults know that, but she's a child. When I find myself taking that information in, my response should be something to the effect of "Hell yeah! That is a brown dog! Let's talk about it!" As we get older, we all take on the role of educating and encouraging those around us.

and now, for the part where I will ask for some feedback

We live in a time where most, if not all of the people who read this blog have or know of someone who has felt the crunch of economic instability. It is, in and of itself, the primary reason I haven't been able to post on many of the teas I have been dying to taste. Money has been tighter, and I've already got enough to last me the next fifteen years. So, in lieu of my present life situation, the buying of and blogging about tea has taken a back seat. In the meantime, I've spent more time learning how to cook meals at home, doing more with less, and living an overall healthier existence.

Last night, I got into a rather heated debate with someone on energy efficiency and health care vs. education on healthier lifestyles. The point that we debated on the most was whether it is right for people to be irresponsible with their freedoms just because they have the bankroll. We discussed the fact that some restaurants are removing salt from their meals, teachers are educating children in schools about how to live healthier lifestyles, right down to reducing the impact on the environment by using CFL bulbs over incandescent bulbs and walking/biking instead of driving everywhere. The person I spoke with stood firmly on the idea that in a capitalistic society, if a person has the money to pay for it, they should be able to use as much energy as they want, eat whatever they choose, and let health insurance take care of the rest. That's what freedom is all about, right?

I totally agree that the option to have a choice is important, but I also believe that the misuse of a privilege, or wasteful use of resources, simply because you have the capital to afford it isn't an ethical way to live, and ultimately won't bode well as the nations move further into the global economy. I was informed that my thinking was naive and I was merely indoctrinated into believing what "the government" wanted me to believe. I'm hearing and reading so many contrasting points of view in the media that it's making my head spin.

So my question to you all is this:

If you live in a country where healthcare isn't afforded to you, or you pay for it out of pocket, what are your thoughts on the push for government reform and educating people to live healthier lifestyles? If you live in a country that has government programs around energy conservation and healthcare, what are some of your personal experiences with these kinds of programs?

Also, for anyone who has taken steps of their own to promote a lower-impact lifestyle, how do you go about educating friends and family members, and what kinds of push back do you get, if any at all?

I know it's long-winded, but these topics keep coming up in daily conversation, and most of us are already tech-savvy, involved in the global market, and definitely interested in the history and culture of the world around us. I don't want to repeat the same steps over and over just because that's what my country was founded upon. I want to be part of a positive change for my family and those around me, well-aware that without change, we stand to fall behind. I'm open to hearing both sides of this, so please educate me :-)

The Big Three

This picture was taken when she was merely a week old. She turns three tomorrow. Where has the time gone?

Happy Birthday, my dear child. I may not get to see you tomorrow, but I will see you soon.

Poolside

We were smashed with a wave of hot weather the past couple of weeks, so we've been spending the majority of our days around the pool. These days have been peaceful.

Eight

"In meditation, go deep in the heart.
In dealing with others, be gentle and kind."

-Tao Te Ching #8

It's often easy to forget that at the times, I've been the lesser grounded individual. It's often easy to leave it behind me that there were others along the way who cleared the brush until I knew my bearing without the aid of a gentle road at my feet. I feel it in my toes now wherever I walk. I can see the shift of the wind and the groans of a tired man, so wrapped up in his work that thirty years later, in his time for repose, the memories of pulling bodies from blazes has worn on his tolerance. Even on his best days, screaming children, in all their innocence, can become a nuisance to him. I can see how men get wrapped up in dreams and forget to turn off the lights when they leave the room. All these things I understand fully well, but I often have to remind myself to have the consistent patience to approach them with kindness.

My recent return to written word came about with a post on Unknown Soldiers; tea without a name. The many unidentified samples that sit in my cupboard, waiting for their turn to dance with the kettle, gleaning enough information for me to get an idea of where they came from. Sometimes, it's just not enough to know for sure. The agony of the leaves unfurling piques my interest, as they eventually, with enough force push the lid of the teapot upward. During each pour, I carefully balance the pot atop the chahai so every last drop finds it's way to me. This process, one of the few I follow as carefully as I used to count down the seconds, is a reminder of patience. By not rushing, my next cup won't brew prematurely; there won't be unnecessary bitterness waiting for me at the bottom of the cup. The empty pot can now rest and the steam reminds the leaves during early infusions that it's time to wake up.

This Unknown Soldier, a gift from Brett @ Teacup in Seattle, came to me in a small brown bag, with a kindly written postcard. An oolong of sorts, but that's as much as I care to read into it tonight. I'm on my third straight session with it, which means I must be enjoying myself. The postcard, which, at the time, knew the history of this tea, disappeared somewhere during the move last September. So, I've got another mystery at my hands, but I'm beginning to enjoy this, in the way we often find ourselves spilling, to strangers, the stories we dare not share with our loved ones. Some years ago, on a trip to Paris, I met a girl at the airport. She and I spent the entire afternoon at a park near the hotel, watching children play and gutting ourselves out. Perfect strangers, but perfect for each other in that moment.

So, on meditation and kindness, where does that leave us? I tend to think about a lot of things as they relate to my life as a father. Tonight, Grace had another bout with not wanting to sleep. I had to fix a scheduling mistake today created by someone else. After reminding them to take a look at it, instead of acting, they forgot about the conversation, and failed to take care of the issue. After an hour of my time spent making the necessary arrangements, my child had gotten bored and fallen asleep. I was hoping to keep her awake until bedtime, but by now, she was beyond waking, even with my best attempts. Three cheers for late naps. She woke up in a great mood, but I knew bedtime would be rough. After several failed attempts at putting her down, she began to cry, saying she didn't want to go to bed. All I could do was hold her and remind her that it's okay to cry; that it's okay to be frustrated and upset, and in the brutal honesty of a child's emotions, the only thing to do is deal with it in the here and the now. At her age, she isn't concerned with yesterdays or tomorrows; she's seeking comfort for what she feels right now. The act of laying next to her until she is carried off to sleep; the gentle words reminding her that it's going to be okay. Simple problems merit simple solutions and this doesn't just apply to dealing with children. From the day we're born, we learn that crying elicits a response from those who look after us. As we get older, we're all still crying, just in a more complex string of notes.

Brett, whatever this tea is, thank you. It just may keep me company until morning.

Ten Toes

Right now, ten small toes attached to two little legs are draped across my lap. My child, nearing three years of age, sleeps on the couch instead of her own bed. She sleeps soundly, regardless of the events of the day. The ups and downs that brought her to this point no longer matter and fatigue took hold hours ago. She cried from her own bed tonight, saying simply "Daddy, I want to sleep near you tonight." My tongue is tingling from the Lao Mansa I've been drinking for the past hour. I picked it up from Norbu earlier this year and am finally getting around to drinking it. It's young, but smooth. It reminds me a lot of the Six Famous Tea Mountains YiWu Millenial Tea Tree from 2006 when that was maybe a year old.

There is a slow kid across the hall from me, and like clockwork, I hear him going out for his midnight jog. He's picked up a couple of my habits and the woman who looks after him (presumably his grandmother) has thanked me a couple of times, saying she's happy to see him running instead of sitting inside all day. At first, he would run to the end of the complex and come back home. On movie nights, I started timing him with my phone, but decided it's more fun to time him by the number of cigarettes any one of my friends smokes between the time he leaves and the time he returns. A sort of silent tally I keep to myself. First it was one, then two, and now three, and who knows where it will stop, so long as we can keep the air filled with enough conversation to keep us on the porch.

Much of my life has been in reverse: Decent paying job before finishing college, child before marriage, tea in the evening and water in the morning. It makes me curious as to the way many of my friends sleep well into the afternoon and go to bed as the sun is coming up. Time is relative, and the sequence of events might not be the more important piece when compared to having had the experiences themselves. One thing I am well certain of; these late nights are my time, and without them, I begin to lose something vital.

'Consistency' is the word that comes to mind. Just the way I can be sure the kid across the hall will go for his run, headphones blaring as he runs past my picture window; just the way I can be sure someone will open my fridge looking for a beer; just the way I can be sure my child will fight sleep unless I've done my best to wear her out; just the way I need these nights to stabilize after the day. Every scenario comes with people looking to find something, whether it be a healthier lifestyle, an altered state of mind, not wanting to miss a moment of discovery, or the capacity to balance a sloped lifestyle.

Those same ten toes, now wiggling as my child dreams, will be the toes that will help her keep her balance. The smallest of essential things. Just as these nights are my tipping point, to remember that being flexible with others is okay, so long as it is reciprocal. Are those I'm making myself available for making themselves as easily available when I am in need of council? Are those I'm sacrificing my time for making an equal sacrifice of time? All of these things, just so I can sleep, express, and make decisions as easily as a child, without bias or ego.

Thank you Greg for the tea. The leaves are entirely spent, and now produce nothing more than sweet aroma and golden water. Dust off a bing, I feel an order coming on.