17/01/2024
The smell of charcoal dances the negative space of this lorn tea house, inviting the fragrance of the oolong that roasts above it.
The scent alone begins to uplift the space. Nutty, floral and buttery. Reflections of the days passed take to the space that remains. The simple contemplations that set foot into these Taiwanese streets with the mind ‘go for a walk & see what happens’
It’s been nothing but tea in many ways, without attempt. It seems to just connect from one to the next. The open hearts, and the giving nature of those who have come my way has been so dearly cherished.
I sat this morning, with a wealth of aged pu’er to sample. A gift from a new friend I happened upon yesterday. We crossed eyes in the street and shared a smile both awkward and inviting. Her husband emerged and asked if I liked tea- to which I responded ‘pu’er’. Met with a smile, he retreated and re-emerged with a shaky hand full of aged material. Traditional storage by the smell of it.
We took a seat together and the day went by. Drinking the many different eras of pu’er tea. Hauled up in the toilet of the back room, on the back end of a 1970s sheng, I realised time has well and truly slowed down. Walking back, there are trails with every motion.
The elder has had his arm raised and extended outward for more than a minute. We both laugh. Regardless of the language barrier, it seems we are all understanding that we’re very much on the same level.
He believes it’s fate that has drawn us here.
As I move between the uncanny recollections of serendipitous happenings that seem to surround me right now, and the sullen, rainy day honouring the slow, more solemn, it brings upon those deep queries into the core sufferings. Am I worthy of this validation, of this gift, of this love?
It’s strange to acknowledge when the world begins to open itself to oneself again, just how removed one was prior.
The human humbling beneath the shock and awe of a moving world is such a beautiful unraveling.
Love to the tender ones.
