Forgetting the World and Drinking Tea

The tea ceremony was almost a surreal experience. Entering through the door of the building and coming from the rainy and hectic city into the tranquil and idyllic Japanese interior was pleasantly strange. Seeing the beautiful lines and spacing of the wood and breathing in the still, clean air in the waiting room was just an appetizer for what was to come. The man who spoke to us seemed so self assured, so confident, and so at peace with himself and with us as well. We were complete strangers but might as well have been long time friends of his. When the women explained the premise of Memory of Water in Japanese to the man he seemed to perfectly understand it. Perhaps I’m making it a more significant moment than it was, but even though I did not understand what she was saying about the book to the man, I thought it was powerful that the sentiment of the book was something germane to an actual person’s trade and understanding.

When we were in the main room for the ceremony I was struck by the movements of the women. Their attire was beautiful yet simple and their movements were very calculated but at the same time full of significance and emotion. Even the positioning of their fingers seemed intentional and gave their movements considerable gravity. Though the movements were regimented, even down to the walk, they were not emotionless. I think a common stereotype is that Japanese do not value emotions. It is not that they do not value emotions, it is that they do not always outwardly express them, and in a sense this makes the emotions even more powerful. Subtlety indeed seems to be an integral notion to the function of a tea ceremony. Many qualities of American culture are so bombastic, divisive, and combative that it was nice to have a brief refuge in a social circumstance where all that mattered was the enjoyment of the some sweets and a cup of tea.