Here
In the Tea Room of the Soul
I am here now.
Not there or then,
not if or when.
Wherever it has taken me,
wherever it will take me,
my life has always been
and will always be lived
in the footlights
of here.
In the comedy of the catbird
taunting the crouching tabby
with its song,
In the ennui of the oak leaf,
one among millions waiting
for autumn,
In the apostasy of April
kissing the rosebud alive
to wholeness,
In the low hunger of the heron
that can only be appeased
by waiting,
In the ache of lightening
for touch of land that comes only
by storm,
In the surrender of the tea leaf
to the knife, yielding to fire
and water,
I am here now.
The only constant
in this endless choreography
is now,
and so it is here
that I will dance.
For if I cannot dance now,
I will not
dance then.
-s. rochelle
I’ve been thinking about tea rooms lately, both physical and otherwise.
The traditional tea room of old Japanese tea culture was a small and sacred space, about ten feet square. The entrance itself was small, about three feet high. This required guests to bend as they entered, symbolizing that all people, no matter their social standing, held the same value. Each guest removed any armor, weapons, or badges denoting rank at the door. All were equal in the tea room.
During the ceremony, every movement of the tea master’s hands, from the preparation to the serving of the tea, was guided by ancient rituals. This was done with the intention of nurturing a feeling of sanctuary from the outside world and in honor of the four principals that are essential to the tea ceremony – respect, harmony, tranquility, and purity.
To me, this tea room is a mirror of what Kahlil Gibran called the house of the soul whose windows are from dawn to dawn.
“The freest song comes not through bars and wires.
And he to whom worshipping is a window,
to open but also to shut,
has not yet visited the house of his soul
whose windows are from dawn to dawn.”
-Kahlil Gibran
There is an inner room within each one of us. A tea room of the soul. This sacred room is within each human being and it is the place where the outside world has no place and outside voices cannot intrude. Perhaps it is the place where the flame of our unique identity burns, the holy of holies within a sacred garden.
In this space all are equal, and no work is greater than another when judged in the scales of love.
Yes, the world asks much of us. We draw lines, we protect ourselves, we move and live within the societies into which we have been born.
But the tea room is always there, the sacred inner space where armor and weapon, rank and formality, and all instruments of human progress and protection and order are left outside.
In this space is silence and breath. Your breath. The breath of God. Your breath. The song of rain falling among the pines.
The kingdom within.
In a safe and sacred tea room, individual identity blooms. There is sovereignty. There is vibrant life. But sometimes the tea room of the soul has been taken over by others, or completely neglected. Sometimes we don’t even know we posses this sacred inner room. We wonder who we are as we keep fulfilling the roles laid out for us by society, religion, or family. Or all three.
How do we protect the tea room of the soul? With rest and boundaries. Creativity. Beauty. Nature connection. I’ve also been mulling a question: is forgiveness always the highest ideal?
I’m exploring all this and more in a new YouTube series. They are short ten minute videos weaving together books, tea, stories, and poetry. I use my own photos and videos from gardens, tea, and hikes in the woods. Each video is meant to feel like a tea room, a slow space that leaves you with inspiration, peace, and beauty.
Stick around and have some tea with me. I’d love to connect with you. Chapter One is linked below. It includes a reading of the poem Here.
And as always, if you’re a tea drinker, feel free to explore my online tea shop. Each tea is designed with well-being and beauty in mind.
