The Cup of Humanity

 

There was a period in my youth when I used to wonder, if one could believe at all, why each day was not a happy, hopeful and glorious day like Saturday. When I look up the meaning of Saturday, the cold and sober definition given by the dictionary is “the day of the week following Friday and preceding Sunday”. Although it is a short and precise meaning, the phrase “following Friday and preceding Sunday” gives me a soothing comfort and uplifts my spirit. For my part, when I think of Saturday, I see a span of hours under the cloudless sky, eternal spring with the snowdrops on the edge of the grass, swaying but not drifting in the breeze.

 

To some certain extent, I still do look forward to every Saturday of the week when one is no longer required to be in economically productive unit. There is no deadline, no telephone call to answer and no obligation. There is tranquillity and epicurean pleasure that keeps so much of the business of life, labour and distraction at bay. Perhaps, it is the silence of Saturday that suspends one’s existence as if one is in the middle of a closed circle where one is out of reach, like a creature evolving to a rebirth.

The Autumn Moon

 

If one considers to be alone is to be free, there must be a way of life that keeps oneself unspotted from the world. In Japanese gardens, one will come across the word known as roji meaning (“Ro” means dew and “Ji” means path) “dewy path”. It is designed to encourage solitude and break away the association with the outside world. In a typical Japanese tea garden, there are two garden pathways; the inner and the outer roji. The pathways and thresholds inside the garden represent a journey to a more spiritual world. Before entering the tea house, one has to pass through a small "stopping gate" that makes the guests to bow, a gesture of humility and reverence, to enter into the inner roji, which is intended to stimulate an awareness of the material world the guests were leaving behind and of the higher and purer realms of spiritual consciousness they would encounter in the tea house.

An oasis of calm. Interior view of a tea room (Kinkaku-ji Sekkatei Teahouse, Kyoto) (Image Source) 

 

The old-fashioned tea houses are built in the style of hermitage, constructed from natural materials such as bamboo and straw. Zen Buddhism might have influenced the particular tradition, in the ancient time, among the high-ranking men in Japan to retire from their important positions at court after they took their Buddhist vows and then, going away to their retreat, a small, rustic building, hidden away in a secluded place.  In his delightful book titled, “The Book of Tea”, Okakura Kakuzo explained that the term for the tea-room Sukiya suggests emptiness or nothingness. He called it “the Abode of Vacancy”. It could also mean “the Abode of Fancy” because it is built in “an ephemeral structure…to house a poetic impulse”.

 

According to Kakuzo, different tea-masters aim for different sensations or effects when the guests enter into their tea gardens. One of the oldest and most famous tea-masters, Rikiu, for example, “aimed at utter loneliness”, wabi-sabi (“withered loneliness”), the word sabi stems from sabishii (lonely, desolate) and sabiru (to mellow) - both words describe the kind of beauty that tea masters find in the simplicity of common materials when used in a refined way. Tea became more than a cup of beverage. "It is the worship of purity and refinement, a scared function at which the host and the guest joined to produce for that occasion the utmost beatitude of the mundane." 
 

Unlike our Western etiquettes, the Japanese tradition of a formal tea ceremony is based on the Eastern philosophical saying: "ichigo, ichie", meaning "one time, one meeting". Each tea ceremony is unique and never to be repeated. Everything is carefully choreographed to make a unique experience. The tea masters would never use a matching tea set to serve his guests at the formal ceremony.

 

Kazkuzo explained in his book: "Uniformity of design was considered as fatal to the freshness of imagination. In the tea-room the fear of repetition is a constant presence. The various objects for the decoration of a room should be selected so that no colour or design shall be repeated." 

Chabana is the traditional, minimalistic Japanese flower arrangement used only for chanoyu, the tea ceremony. It is very simple and natural, using cut flowers and herbs from the garden, always in harmony with the season.

So, I invite you all to a virtual tea ceremony to welcome and celebrate the beauty of this season. Let Saturday be a day of appreciating the arts and beauty and a day of refuge and solitude by laying aside our diurnal toils. Let us enjoy “a cup of humanity”* in peace and tranquillity. Let us recompense ourselves with “a poetic impulse”, that Kakuzo mentioned in his book, for the hard tedium of the week’s travail.

 

 

Tea Caddy (Vintage)

 

* “The cup of humanity” is the title of the first chapter in the most fascinating book, Okakura Kakuzo’s The Book of Tea.

Japanese Light Green Tea - "The Cup of Humanity"