The biggest dusty library in the world

There are a few old tomes available on Google Books that talk about Tea. Most of them seem to be missionary publications, which print stories somewhere between the realms of literary journal and dear diary. Happily, it's possible to download these books for free, search quickly for some relevant words and then, if they prove unhelpful, delete the books again with very little expended energy.

Here is a quote about Tea that did tickle my fancy. It comes from My Japanese Year by Thomas Henry Sanders, published by J. Pott &co., 1915.

It would be tedious to give any more details of this ceremony; its purpose being to produce a philosophic calm, it is natural that the description of it does not make very exciting reading; but it is a perfect wonder of quiet graces, of a kind that are not much known among us.  p205

This is a fact about Tea that I have been thinking about myself, particularly in the context of trying to keep a blog on the subject. How to write compellingly about something that one must do to understand? I wish I had an answer; for now I'll continue trying to explore and explain slowly, from the outside in.

Keeping not quite in season

This week, I was going to be ready. Though I have been living out of boxes for a long time and haven't seen my Tea seasonality book in months, I decided it was high time that I come to class with a predetermined poetic name for my chashaku.

The chashaku, or bamboo tea scoop that one used to place powdered tea into the cup, plays a pretty big role in chanoyu. It gets ritually purified before use, then ritually cleaned after, and once most everything else is packed up and put away, the guests get a chance to examine the chashaku and ask a couple questions about it. (They also examine the natsume or tea caddy, but I'm talking about the chashaku right now.)

The last question asked about the chashaku is, "Gomei wa?" or "What is its poetic name?" The name is generally a season word, though it can be a few other things as well, and the season word should match up with the current time of year.

Wagashi is good for you!

I found this article on the Japan Times website, detailing the nutritional information of wagashi (Japanese sweets) and yogashi (Western sweets).

http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/ek20110120wh.html

It confirms everything I knew to be true when I lived in Japan and made semi-weekly pilgrimages to a wagashi store about two miles away from my regular subway stop.

About once a week I would buy a container with five reasonably large wagashi balls ~ generally some sort of daifuku, ohagi or dango, while on one noteworthy week it was fruit-flavored paste covered with a translucent coat of kudzu jelly.

Each time, I would head home with the intention of eating two or three that night, and the rest the next day. The only times I ever ate fewer than all five on one day were those occasions when someone stopped over for tea and conversation. Basically, wagashi were dinner.

But I justified this by reminding myself of the ingredients list. For most basic wagashi, there are pretty much just three basic ingredients: glutenous rice, red beans and sugar. Sure, sugar isn't the best, but beans and rice are definite dinner material! It's not like I was eating cake and ice cream for dinner. (I make no effort to justify that one; I just own the unhealthiness.)

Pssst, don't tell my mom any of this! ^_^

Maintaining one's inner calm

One of the advantages of chanoyu is that it grants its practitioners a period of deep silence and inner calm, a very particular inner calm that allows the mind to direct itself to meaningful things, deep inside their consciousnesses.

I have heard it said that one can recognize experienced Tea people because they bring that calm with them everywhere they go.

I've having an issue with this idea right now, for the obvious reason that the world is a very messy place. I know of no space that is more separate from the universe around it than is the tea room. To take a concept developed in a frictionless plane and apply it to a potholed asphalt landscape is, in a word, challenging.

Though I recognize that this is a typical novice complaint, I am making it just the same. At this stage I need the precise lines and clean silences, though I do hope to get past that need eventually.


I have felt especially drawn to Zen lately, as it encourages a similar, complementary state of mind. The internet helped me find a local Zen meditation group, and I've decided to try sitting zazen with them this April. Last year I spent about nine months trying to get to a similar Thursday night sitting in New York City. (My failure to make this work more than once in a full nine months was near epic. However, that one time was very nice.)

My one experience in a Zen temple was, again, clean white walls and a positively audible silence. Still, I'm hoping that by beefing up my inner quietude I can make it into something louder than the city streets.

An unexpected birthday gift

Today is the beginning of a very busy weekend, but it was also the first tea class of the month, after a three week hiatus.

Spring feels very slow in coming here in DC, but there are some buds blooming here and there, and we are very close to the time of the sakura blooms.

In fact, I have been contemplating inviting a few people out sometime during the greater Cherry Blossom Festival (or rather, during the peak blooming period) for a nice little tea ritual under the blossoms. I have just about all the materials I need, except for the tea.

White Day

Today is the Japanese holiday of ホワイートデイー (Howaito Dei), or White Day.  This holiday, despite its foreign derivation, is based upon Japanese social norms and that stickiest of social glues, obligation.

In Japan, Valentine’s Day (February 14) is traditionally celebrated by women who buy chocolate for the men in their lives—family members, coworkers, friends, and also romantic interests. A month passes and then, on March 14, those men reciprocate with white “obligation” chocolate.

This always struck me as a bad deal, particularly because I’m no great friend to white chocolate.  Also, there’s no mystery to White Day.  No chance for surprises.  The man might wonder which woman in his life will bring chocolate, but the woman knows ahead of time.  She’s only getting returns from the people who owe her.

There’s a special name for White Day chocolate.  It’s called 義理チョコ, giri-choko or obligation chocolate.  Romantic, it’s not.