Dear journal,
This morning, as I reached for my cup of tea, I reflected on the significance of ritual in shaping human experience. The tactile warmth of the ceramic, the gradual release of flavor from the tea leaves, and the rhythmic inhalation and exhalation of breath all coalesced into a meditative state. Tea, for me, transcends mere consumption; it is a deliberate act of presence, a structured moment of mindfulness within the flux of daily life. It is a way to root myself in the moment, a reminder that amidst the chaos of modern existence, there remains a space for quiet contemplation.
Today, I chose Constant Comment, a blend rich with childhood nostalgia and maternal association. Before I ever cultivated my own appreciation for tea, its spiced citrus fragrance pervaded our home, interwoven with the quiet moments my mother spent sipping in the evening cool. It was a subtle but significant presence, one that filled our home with warmth, comfort, and a sense of unspoken connection. What was once her ritual has become my own, seamlessly integrated into my contemplative practice. Rituals, as Thomas Merton observed, serve as anchors—binding us to memory, infusing our actions with meaning, and reinforcing our connection to the present. "Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm, and harmony," Merton reminds us, encapsulating the essence of this practice.
Merton conceptualized monasticism as a state of heightened awareness, an orientation toward the divine embedded within the ordinary. His writings, along with the aphorisms of the Desert Fathers, resonate deeply in my zazen practice, informing the silence and introspection I seek. Each sip of tea from my cup—a cherished vessel obtained from the Abbey of Gethsemani—becomes an extension of this contemplative discipline. The act of drinking tea is thus elevated beyond habit; it serves as a tangible prompt for returning to breath, to self, and to the now. In these moments, I am reminded of the interconnectedness of body, mind, and spirit, how a simple act of stillness has the power to realign the self with a deeper sense of being.
In moments of stillness, Merton’s teachings surface within me: Relinquish distractions, silence the noise, release the compulsion to be elsewhere. Be still. Be fully present. As the steam rises and the mantra so hum synchronizes with my breath, I recognize a fundamental convergence in the philosophies of Zen and the Desert Fathers. Both traditions assert that deceleration is not mere passivity but an active engagement with consciousness. The Desert Fathers advised, "Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything." To withdraw into quietude is not to evade life but to encounter its deeper strata. In our fast-paced world, where urgency often dictates action, this wisdom carries even greater weight. To slow down is to resist the compulsion toward productivity for its own sake and instead allow oneself the grace of being.
Tea, my mother’s gentle presence, Merton’s insights, and the regulated cadence of my breath all intersect in this simple yet profound practice. As I cradle my cup, another Merton passage comes to mind: "Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul." In this moment, I cultivate stillness, attentiveness, and the profound act of simply existing. And with each sip, I nourish that growth. As I drink, I feel time expanding, the sensation of warmth spreading through my body, and an awareness that this small act—this pause—holds within it the essence of something larger than myself. With every sip, I honor tradition, memory, and the quiet wisdom that comes with allowing life to unfold at its own pace. In this space, in this ritual, I am whole.
Always,
Dave
***
The cup and I are one
by Dave
The cup and I are one,
molded in clay,
shaped by fire,
Tea steeps,
ancient leaves fill the hollow space.
Sip and time slows.
My tongue tastes the bitter herb,
the sweetness of cinnamon.
My breath,
warmed by spice.
So...
Hum...
In...
Out...
We sit together,
the cup and I,
one in the space between.