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.
