Who would have imagined that tea flower tea would bring two people together from different hemispheres of the world! Learning mindfullness often results in wonderful events, like making friends when you least expect.
While researching on the Internet, I discovered Maya Frost, a wonderful woman who writes about youth and education and who is also an expert on mindfulness exercises. After a week of enthusiastic sharing of thoughts, I invited her to write a guest blog. Enjoy her memories of travels and tea:
Mindfulness and Tea: Sipping and Savoring Around the World
Last week, I had a fun conversation with Robin about tea, travel and mindfulness. I happen to love both tea and flowers, so when I went to her website and saw the photos of the gorgeous flowering tea in her glass pots, I was mesmerized. I thought I’d tried just about every tea under the sun, but I’ve never seen such a beautiful tea image. Since I find the ritual of preparing tea to be a wonderful opportunity for mindfulness, I’m delighted to know that I can incorporate breathtaking flowers along with my favorite antioxidant beverage.
In my mind, I sort the places and stages of my life by types of tea. When I was a teenager living in the Oregon countryside, I used to make solar tea in a big glass jar and sip it iced while reading my ‘TEEN magazine.
I always picked the biggest glass we had—the one my mother had received as a free gift through a gas station promotion years before. I’d sit on the concrete step in the back, next to the bed of red gladiolas, and browse through the pages featuring (this is how old I am) photos of David Cassidy from the Partridge Family or Greg Williams from The Brady Bunch.
I worked hard in the summers, sweating for hours each day hoeing weeds between the rows of onions in a local field. Often I walked the three miles home on the gravel road after having worked for eight hours in the hot sun. So, as soon as I got home, I’d peel off my dirty clothes caked with dust and the ooze of rotten onions and more than a trace of pesticides and jump in the shower.
Then (this is how old I am), as if I hadn’t had enough sun that day, I’d slather on some baby oil and sit outside to tan. I have the permanent freckles on my back and neck to prove it. But the tea—well, that was something smart, something soothing that I did for myself. I always put the juice of a whole lemon in my tea so that I could enjoy the tanginess—and then rub the lemon halves on my hair to bleach it naturally (I read about it right there in ‘TEEN magazine!)
As a college student in Tacoma, I steeped hundreds of cups of Market Spice tea to get me through my late nights of studying on chilly nights. I bought it at Pike’s Place Market on my occasional day trips north to Seattle and would inhale the sweet spiciness through the paper bag while sitting in the back seat of my friend’s car on the way back to campus. My dorm room was spare—we didn’t have a lot of extras in those days, and with my tiny budget, I had fewer things than most. But I did have a hot pot for boiling water, and I made the most of it. I’m not sure which I loved more—the intoxicating aroma of the tea as it was steeping or the explosion of cinnamon and cloves on my tongue as I sipped it—but my memories of college are tied to the smell and taste of that tea.
During my senior year of college, I participated in a year-long study trip that allowed me to live in several Asian countries. I think of it as a tour of tea. There was tea wherever I went—South Korea, Japan, China, Thailand, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, Nepal and India. Each had its own unique flavor and serving tradition, from the clear green tea in Japan to the milky chai in India. I had tea with my host in the Himalayas at dawn, tea with the monks in Sri Lanka, tea in the dorm with my Korean roommate, tea with my fellow students on the train in China. When I think of my time in each country, I remember the people I met and the tea we shared.
A year later, I was living in rural northern Japan as an English teacher. It was snow country—my first time to drive in snow, dress for snow, and shovel snow. The fall colors were spectacular, the spring an explosion of cherry blossoms, and summers lush with the green of rice paddies, but I especially remember the cold winters during which I spent my time drinking gallons of green tea. I was served green tea at the kindergartens where I taught, both before and after my classes. I prepared it for myself at home in the mornings. In the summer, I’d drink chilled barley tea, a refreshing change from the hot steaming cups of green tea I enjoyed the rest of the year. My first two daughters were born in Japan, and I can remember the morning when my oldest daughter decided to crawl for the first time—and she went right for the mug of green tea I’d set on the tatami mat floor! (I made sure to keep my tea in higher places after that.)
There was a lull in my tea drinking after I returned to the States. It could have been that I was busy with four preschoolers. Yeah, I think that’s what happened. I can’t remember—it’s sort of a blur. I switched to coffee, thinking it would help me deal with chronic sleep deprivation. It did—but it wasn’t the same as sipping and savoring tea. A few years later, once the girls were all in school and I started working on various writing projects, I’d make myself a cup of peppermint tea in the middle of the morning as a sort of ritual. I liked to think that it inspired me. It was during my peppermint tea days that I started writing a weekly ezine about mindfulness. Though I began with just a few friends on my list—I told them they didn’t even have to read it; it was more about me writing and sending something out into the world—within a couple of years, I had thousands of subscribers in over 100 countries! I’m sure it had to do with the peppermint tea.
For the last three years, I’ve been living in Argentina. The Argentines drink a green tea called yerba mate. When I first tried it, I spit it out. It tasted like fermented grass—and not in any sort of good way–and I was sure I’d never get used to it. I resisted it for a couple of years until my husband encouraged me to take a few sips each morning as a friendly gesture. You see, yerba mate is shared—one person is the designated server and pours hot water into a vessel (often wooden) filled with the tea, then passes it to someone else to drink through a silver metal straw. When that person is finished, he passes it back to the server, who refills the cup with hot water and passes it to another person or, if it’s just two people, he takes his turn. Same cup, same straw. It’s very much a tradition here and it’s rude to reject an offer of mate. So, you see, I HAD to drink it in order to be polite. And now, I drink it every morning with my husband and sometimes a daughter or two.
Last week, my husband and I bought a small farm in Uruguay. We will spend most of our time there. Our farm is miles from any coffee shops, and I’m guessing the coffee isn’t worth buying anyway. While you can’t walk a block in Buenos Aires without passing a coffee shop, coffee is sort of an afterthought in Uruguay. As it turns out, Uruguayans are even bigger mate drinkers than Argentines are (but don’t say that out loud unless you want to start an argument). Uruguayans are commonly seen walking with a thermos in the crook of one arm and a mate cup in the hand of the other. Alarmingly, some Uruguayans can be seen doing this same maneuver while driving. Fortunately, there’s not much traffic in Uruguay, even on the main highways. It’s an extremely laid-back culture, and going even a few hours without drinking mate is unthinkable. I fully expect that I’ll develop that permanent mate elbow hook myself.
Tea. Mindfulness. I cherish the moments during which I’ve been fortunate to serve, sip and savor tea around the world. Someday, I will be a great grandmother, sipping tea in my rocker. Who knows what kind of tea that will be—and where? I look forward to the continuing adventure and the many cups of tea in the years ahead.
Maya Frost is an American writer and mindfulness trainer. She has taught thousands of people how to pay attention to what matters most. Her playful, eyes-wide-open approach to everyday awareness has been featured in over 150 media outlets around the world. To learn more about her work teaching others how to get calm, clear and creative, visit http://www.Real-WorldMindfulness.com
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