Rockin' Out

What's in my cup: an oolong from Wuyi Mountain, brewed gongfu style

I was completely set on having a perfect day today. Everything was lined up to make this relaxing and productive: some scheduled writing and networking time, a bit of light cleaning, a superbly relaxing bath, and, of course, time for tea. I even had some leisure time planned with a friend. Could anything be better?

My choice of tea for such an exquisite day was without a doubt an oolong. I narrowed it down to either a beautiful Taiwanese standard or a legendary tea from the cliffs of Wuyi Mountain. I gravitated toward the rarer one from Wuyi. Tea from this region is descended from plants that essentially were undomesticated. Tea trees from Wuyi mountain were nearly forgotten and essentially harvested as an artisan tea, sometimes with only a few kilograms produced each year. In the mid nineties, cuttings from the trees dating back to the Song Dynasty were used to increase the harvest with plants that are genetically identical.

These teas are obtained from trees that are generally quite old and grow in rocky terrain, resulting in the name yancha, which translates as "rock tea" or "cliff tea." Most of you reading this blog are likely to know me in real life; that being the case, you know how much I happen to like rocks. That may be what predisposes me to liking Wuyi teas so much, although I'm sure the depth of flavor and blissful aroma account for bigger reasons.

Inspiration struck, and I decided to make my tea outside today. Having a digital kettle makes brewing tea in gongfu style so much easier, as well as portable. For those of you unfamiliar, it is one of the best methods for brewing oolong and pu-erh teas, and it is deserving of its own blog post one day. I settled onto the cool concrete of the balcony of my apartment with my set up for tea, and turned the kettle on. Waiting for the water to warm, I got a chance to appreciate the tea leaves and start some light reading. The kettle roared to life as sounds of nature permeated my tea session, joined by the faint din of passing cars on the highway- lingering bass and rushing motors.

I had a moment of clarity during that first pour of water. Because I had cleared time and space in my schedule for tea, I really had the opportunity to be present. As the water washed out the brewing vessel and cup, I washed out erratic thoughts from my head; as the stream of steaming water hit the tea leaves, they were cleaned of dust just as my mind left behind the dust of my week. When the first vapors carried the aroma of the steeping leaves, I felt myself breathe in not only their scent, but also the scent of life itself. It was a truly beautiful moment, and I hadn't yet tasted the first sip of tea.

Teas like this one are intended to be enjoyed many times in a row. I once steeped it fourteen times. Today, however, I wasn't aiming to quantify or assess anything. I just wanted to practice being present. Naturally, when we really want something, the Universe is always willing to oblige.

Sometimes, though, the Universe needs to find out how much we are dedicated to manifesting what we want, and we are tested. I kept my phone beside me during this tea session. It did occasionally distract me from the act of purely being, but some distractions are welcome and bring joy. This time, though, I received some disheartening news from a friend. I instantly switched modes, trying to offer support and beginning to worry. My day was thrown off entirely: no more plans for which to prepare nor motivation or clarity enough to write. Somehow a little unforeseen event is enough to cause landslides if we permit it.

Thankfully, I remembered my tea. I kept pouring, steeping, pouring, and sipping. I focused on the feeling of the tea on my palette, the warmth as it spread to my body. It was a meditation in and of itself. This tea has traveled the world to be in my cup, and I couldn't take that for granted. Imagine how long some of these plants have been around... more than eight centuries! Who am I to let small things interrupt my growth. Ancient trees have seen the rise and fall of empires, tasted the rains of eternity, and breathed the pure air of the mountains for longer than I can truthfully imagine.

Yancha is not an easily obtained tea. For one, its rise in popularity in China has caused a recent spike in prices. On the other hand, let's think back to its origins. Cliff teas are grown on cliffs. They are faced with difficult growing conditions that forever shape their lifespans, yet they do not give up. These are trees of perseverance, and with the cold, stony floor beneath me, I was able to find my center and maintain my cool. I can't say that when I drink tea there is nothing that can shake my calm or focus, but I can honestly admit that when I am present in a tea session I see with a little more clarity.

I hope for you, my readers, that the message of the yancha is one that will be helpful. These cliff teas might be faced with poorer soil and difficult conditions, but they have an amazing vantage point. Remember that when you are faced with your own challenges. No matter what situations arise or surprises await, we have two options. Either we grow or we don't; it really is that simple.

Silver Lining in the New Year

What's in my tumbler: Yin Zhen or Silver Needle, a rare white tea from Fujian

This recent New Year's celebration was probably the quietest in my adult life. Even as a kid living with my parents there were occasions in which I had a little bit of champagne and watched the ball drop at midnight. As a student at the University level, and in the subsequent years, one of my closest friends and room mates has a January first birthday, so there was nearly always revelry to ring in the infant year. I think it is one of the few holidays without any resentment or disappointment tied to it in any way my entire life. That's a little astounding, actually.

This year I was blessed with a closing shift on December thirty-first and an opening shift on the following day. Schedules at work run a little tight sometimes because of the limited number of us on the management tea, and I've come to expect it. The mild frustration I may have felt melted away because this year I spent the night alone. My current room mate was out of town, and it afforded me the opportunity to relax and decompress. I had a wonderful chance to make a ritual out of the turning of the wheel of the year and celebrate in my own way.

I admit that it also afforded me the opportunity to spend the night as scantily clad as I wanted, but that isn't exactly relevant.

Colleagues of mine organized a global meditation series for world peace that has been happening for the past couple of years. The first day of 2011 marked the final event in a string of twenty-seven. I spent the evening preparing myself and my space for that chance to focus on only the positive things I wanted to manifest for the coming year. I spent ten minutes staring at my tea cabinet trying to discern what I wanted to drink. I knew that the first cup of the new decade would mean something to me, as it would set the tone for every other sip to follow.

I decided, seeing as it was late, that I should avoid caffeine despite my elevated tolerance to it. I also decided that I should try something less oxidized because of my recent bout of kidney stones. That really narrowed it down quite a bit, so I chose a lovely white tea. Yin Zhen, also known as silver needle, is a rare, hand-harvested white tea bud from the bai hao varietal of Camellia sinensis that was once reserved only for the imperial court of China.

Imperial reserve teas, such as this one, are under heavy scrutiny and tight control during the picking stages. Harvested in two short windows each year, the Imperial Yin Zhen cannot be picked during windy or rainy conditions, which sometimes results in a compromised harvest. Additionally, only young virgins wearing white silk gloves under heavy dietary restrictions were permitted to harvest the rare, silvery tips. Nowadays, China is a little less stringent on who can pick this tea, but the dietary code is still in effect. Those who harvest silver needle avoid spicy foods and heavy garlic in order to keep the oils in their skin from being contaminated by these pungent aromas.

This past fall has yielded one of the best harvests of silver needle that I have ever seen. It is visually stunning, and the flavor is incomparable to the past couple that I have tasted. I admit that I often overlook this mild and complex tea for something with more body, but this is perhaps the most exceptional white tea I've ever had. It is really stunning. One of the rarer teas that one can find, I decided that something rare and silvery would be a great symbol for my new year.

Nutritionally speaking, this is one of the teas with the greatest number of anti-oxidants, as well as being rich in anti-collagenase, a nutrient that inhibits the breakdown of collagen in our skin. It has long been considered to be "beauty in a cup" because it is great for complexion, hydration, and acting as a general tonic for the immune system, too. I really think that drinking in a smooth and pale gold liquor would be an ideal invitation for a healthy, abundant, and marvelous new year.

Silver needle has another name by which it is sometimes known in the west: "silver rain." Last year for me included some heavy emotional rainfall from time to time. Although I did see plenty of blue sky and some radiant sunsets, the grey seemed to linger everywhere on the horizon. This year is a different story for me. I have spent a lot of time and energy over the past couple months to really figure myself out, separating the needs from the wants. All the self-discovery has been a way to analyze what precipitated the turbulent and tempestuous changes I experienced last year, and I am grateful for each and every opportunity those moments gifted unto me.

Silver needle, when brewed produces a light and viscous infusion. The color is nearly reminiscent of sheaves of wheat in the summer's sun, and it is an overall warm and uplifting infusion. I've decided that no matter what rain falls, I will consider it a blessing. Silver needle reminds me of the silver lining to every cloud above us, despite a grisly exterior. Sipping this tea is synonymous with sipping that silver lining. Remember that as you decide what to reach for in your cabinet.