As Pride Month wraps up here in Taos and as a member of the queer community myself, I thought I might write something a little more personal this time.
Let’s try something together… Brew a cup of tea with me.
Grab a cup or a mug that you love, one that holds special significance to you. Admire the cup for a moment, then fill it with water. Take a moment to breathe, acknowledge the water as it hits the bottom of the vessel.
Grab a cup or a mug that you love, one that holds special significance to you. Admire it for a moment, then fill it with water. Take a moment to breathe and acknowledge the water as it hits the bottom of the vessel.
Pour the water into your kettle, close the lid securely, light the stove, and praise the fire. Don’t just wait for the water to warm; cultivate presence, stay with yourself, and listen to the sound transform as the temperature rises.
Go to the cabinet where your tea lives and choose a blend that resonates with you. Open it with ceremony. Marvel at the color of the leaves and relish the scents as you transfer teaspoons into your cup.
When the kettle sings, turn off the heat and thank it for performing its task so beautifully. Let the water. Let yourself settle. Check that the water is not too hot, then trickle it lovingly over the tea. As you pour, watch the leaves tangle and dance, steeping and coloring the cup.
Stir it clockwise - once, twice, three times. Feel the steam rise and caress your face, anticipate the taste on your tongue. Don’t rush yourself, the tea, or the process. Let the cup warm your hands. Acknowledge and honor all of the hands it took to get this tea to your cup. Finally, at just the right moment, lift the cup to your lips and savor that first sip.
…
I’ve been thinking a lot about the meaning of tea.
What role does it play in our lives, and what does it represent? What need does it satisfy? Many tea ceremonies around the world are centered around times of great significance, from celebrations like weddings and births to moments of remembrance like funerals and wakes. At these community experiences, tea becomes comfort and celebration in one cup. Always the tea is shared.
Do you remember your first cup of tea? I don’t, at least not the very first cup. I can’t recall when it entered my life, but my love of it began with low quality teabags and herbal flavored blends.
I remember my grandmother making me chamomile with honey before bed. I remember the care in it. The time it would take for the water to boil and the chamomile flowers to steep. Waiting what felt like forever for it to cool enough to drink, even when my grandmother blew on it to speed the process. It was an act of love she gave me without words. It taught me patience and the art of slowing down, if only for a moment.
I remember the sun tea my mother used to make in the summertime when I was really little. She added honeysuckle from the bush in front of our house, the smells were so sweet. We would pick them and throw them in a mason jar with cheap black teabags and lemon slices from the lemon tree in our backyard. It was like tasting summer, or tasting the sun itself. We continued passing our love of tea from generation to generation, creating family traditions around tea and personal preferences.
I recall the many conversations had with old friends and new friends over a warming pot of tea in my front yard. The birds listened intently to our gossiping. The kettle whistled in tune with our cacophony and the birds would start singing.
What I remember most about tea is the people. The people who made it for me, the people who shared it with me, the conversations we had, and the things we didn’t say. To me, tea is an offering, an outstretched hand. It is a vessel for memory, to bring back loved ones and soothe the ache of missing them. When I drink their favorite tea I am transported to the moments I shared that tea with them.
When I traveled abroad with my sister to Ireland every home welcomed us with tea. There were just as many conversations that started over tea as there were shared over a pint. Tea was a constant comfort among strangers. I added milk to these offerings of kindness, and even when the tea was bitter, or I didn’t know what to say, I had a feeling of being home.
I fell deeply in love with a friend in college over a London Fog, the creamy sweetness mixing with lavender notes and bergamot, as my heart fluttered in my chest. I couldn’t look them in the eye for fear of falling further, and instead I looked down at my cup.
Years later, I remember the first time I tasted tea.o.graphy’s Lavender Grey tea. After an exhausting breakfast shift waiting tables, that cup offered a warm embrace, allowing my muscles to unclench and my mind to rest.
The more I learn about tea from my friends, loves, and community, the more my appreciation grows. Every cup of tea is more meaningful now, and I find myself wanting to share it. Tea became a ritual. Tea became connection, community, care, comfort, and celebration.
Your personal relationship with tea might look different than mine, and that is the beauty of it. What my years of tea-loving have taught me is that tea is for everyone. It is an act of love. Loving well takes practice, and so does good tea.
Thank you for sharing this moment and this tea with me. Happy Pride and happy steeping everyone!
Love,
Serena
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Serena is on both our Admin TEAm & Creative TEAm. They are responsible for all of the amazing blogs and tea musings. We appreciate you, Serena! <3
