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what was it? a tea lounge? a tea room? a tea shop? a little wooden place upstairs with tea sets (both Korean and Chinese) and incense and hanging rice paper keeping the cold outside. Calm, smiling Miss Moon guided us through a tea ceremony with a very bitter chrysanthemum tea. She explained all the ritual associated with the tea and all the ways to pull out different flavors from the leaves. Luckily, they brought out a little silver tray with tiny golden raisins as a respite from the bitterness. An acquired taste, I'm sure. But I loved sitting there, legs crossed, spending an hour just pouring and drinking tea. So deliberate and peaceful. So calming. I tried to explain how lovely it was and how good it was for me, someone who needs to learn to relax and to sit, peacefully. But she'll never know, really, unless I tell her about Nedra one day. And I probably won't. I may yet tell many people my story and hopefully help others, but here, in Korea, my stories are for me. I'm here to learn the stories here. Besides, these people wouldn't understand. My stories are reminders for me here to learn all I can here and to change as much as possible. To become more calm, centered--about everything. Before the tea ceremony, we passed through white and pale-wooden galleries of oil flowers seeping through cracks in cement walls. Like the beauty that creeps up in spite of this cement city. Like the beauty that wells up despite the pain. We were stilled and peaceful. And grateful to have this woman take us to such beautiful places. She told us about the Lotus Flower and its Buddhist significance. How its roots are in dirtyness and filth, and the water it floats in is not clean. It rises up from sooty, dirty water, but its green leaf is coated with a shiny film and so is not contaminated. And then the flower stretches up beyond that, fragrant, beautiful, and wide. Unafraid to be open, big, and beautiful. I was so touched. I had never learned that before. And maybe, too, it was her broken, carefully chosen, RAW English that broke through the cliche dribble I'm used to. When she says it, it's like I understand something for the first time I always thought I understood. It's no longer dependent on the old, tired phrases. Like the gift of poetry. Oh, and also the chrysanthemum tea. Scott asked about the significance of the flower. "Ah," she said. "It is a special, strong flower. It is sturdy and brave and waits until autumn to bloom. All autumn flowers are strong and special." Wow. There's so much in the world. And in our inner worlds. So many symbols and rituals and beauties and poetries I've not yet discovered--or come up with. Cause I create my own as well. I create symbols, especially when I need them. Lotus and Chrysanthemum, ck [2002-11-04]
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Last five letters Gathering [2009-09-04] ?2002, Scott & Celeste. |