I'm drinking the second cup of today's special tea. I won't write about the feelings just yet, but I did want to stop in here and think out loud.
Today was the first day of school. All the kids in school, and I have calls to make to banks and friends and one other thing that escapes memory. I had my special tea, which I believe I've explained before.
One of the motivations I've taken to heart in drinking the tea is my priority of slowing down to enjoy the tea, to try new things and new flavors, to remember Brittany and appreciate what I do have and make positive changes for myself.
One of these positive changes is that I want to blog, well, that's not exactly accurate, but in order to move forward out of my depression and begin writing more or less as a professional, whether paid or not at this point, I need to write.
I make lists, but I rarely write anymore. Some of that is because of the depression, but some of it is also not having my own voice. I'm only beginning to come into my own voice, and for some people that's a problem, but I need to balance their need against my need.
I shouldn't hide who I am or who I've become in the last couple of years of illness and depression and the self-awareness that has come, more since March and I haven't found a direction as much as a path. It's dim, but lit enough to start out and feel my way around.
I also must apologize for the rambling of this. I hope to have a reintroduction to myself by the end of the weekend (if not sooner), as well as an introduction to my philosophies as well as a guideline for what I want to do here.
Thanks for whoever's reading and welcome. I'd love to hear from you; let me know what you think. My email is kbwriting11@gmail.com.
Have a great day.
I look forward to seeing you again soon.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Tea Ritual, Part II - Mango Black Tea
Starting this whole Tea Ritual thing. Tea Ritual. I guess that's a good name for it. If you've read the first part of this series ( Tea and Friendship – An Introduction ), you already know about the tea, but since this is the first tasting, I'll share some of what led here.
Just over one year ago, my friend was murdered by her ex-husband. Her name was Brittany and she was 27 years old. A second roommate was also murdered and a third roommate (my close friend) was injured and survived. Sometime in that week, Brittany and my friend ordered tea, which they never received. After the one year anniversary of a very long year, my friend replaced the tea and shared it with a few of Brittany's friends. He only asked that we take the moments of quiet reflection and journaling. Journaling anything that comes to mind, about the tea, about Brittany, about ourselves.
I've been looking for myself recently and in death, I find Brittany a constant source of thought-provocation.
I had been trying to find the perfect time to relax and try the first tea, and being so busy or paralyzed in being overwhelmed with life lately, I hadn't found that time. I had decided on Mango as my first tasting, but finally determined that there never is a good, perfect time to sit and relax with a cup of tea. (I have three kids and it's summer.) You have to make your own and I realized if I keep putting it off, there will never be a perfect time and the teas (and the memory) would have been wasted. I've wasted too much already.
While the water boils, I turn the tea bag over in my hand. I smell it – nothing unusual or special. I prepare my breakfast – a savory scone, zucchini bread and half a kiwi. I don't know why I chose a kiwi at Fresh Market; I only knew that I did not want mangoes or strawberries.
The tea (as you will see) is very dark. I add nothing, wanting to find the appeal that Brittany found in this Mango Black Tea.
I take a tiny sip (it is much too hot for anything else) and that is when it hits me full in the face. I can feel my eyes brighten and my nostrils flare as my lips curl into a small smile.
It is the fruity tang of the mango. It surprises me and I slurp a little and smile broadly at the tea.
It definitely did not smell this enticing before the hot water soaked into the tea bag. What a tremendous difference and a welcome one. I was all set to not like this one, so my surprise was truly powerful in how all of my senses responded to it.
I've added my sugar, but no milk. I always add milk, but I know that it would change the fruity smell and the taste and it is truly the smell that gives it the flavor that I'm enjoying. The senses are a funny thing. I notice the bag (after I've taken it out) and the tea spreads across the napkin and I can't help but think of how much Brittany's influence and inspiration is spreading and will continue to spread; for some through her life and for others through her death. I also know that while it's not forced I am almost feeling ridiculous at waxing philosophical and how in with something like this – this ritual – it is almost expected and therefore can't be helped.
The smell as I put my lips to the mug is an introduction to the mango flavor – a warm greeting, like a tap on the shoulder – "here I am." As the cup is drawn closer to my face and the heat and steam go up into my nostrils, the mango scent is still s surprise in each sip. I tried the mango first because it was the one I least wanted to try. I don't like fruit teas. I really do, so the surprise is palpable. I add this to my list of teas for the teacher's gifts at Christmas so I can share the pleasing surprise with them.
I spent almost an hour sipping tea and writing most of this in my special journal; the journal that went with me to Wales and Denver and my quiet time at Starbucks. I liked the physicality of writing by hand, the ritual, the mandatory sip and jot and slow down, but the thoughts came too fast and I could barely read my handwriting for transcribing it for all of you. My kids were entirely cooperative, keeping themselves busy (and a rarer feat: quiet) almost the entire time I was enjoying my tea, Brittany's tea, thinking and writing.
Practical Tips for the Mango Tea:
Let it steep until dark, remove tea bag, but do not squeeze (do not ever squeeze).
Drink black with 1-2 tsp. of sugar (unless you don't normally add sugar).
Enjoy with something savory – scone, zucchini bread (not a sweet bread). Savory compliments the mango flavor.
Just as an aside, I let a little get cold and this tea was very good also when cold. Actually enjoying cold tea is very rare for me with brewed tea.
Just over one year ago, my friend was murdered by her ex-husband. Her name was Brittany and she was 27 years old. A second roommate was also murdered and a third roommate (my close friend) was injured and survived. Sometime in that week, Brittany and my friend ordered tea, which they never received. After the one year anniversary of a very long year, my friend replaced the tea and shared it with a few of Brittany's friends. He only asked that we take the moments of quiet reflection and journaling. Journaling anything that comes to mind, about the tea, about Brittany, about ourselves.
I've been looking for myself recently and in death, I find Brittany a constant source of thought-provocation.
I had been trying to find the perfect time to relax and try the first tea, and being so busy or paralyzed in being overwhelmed with life lately, I hadn't found that time. I had decided on Mango as my first tasting, but finally determined that there never is a good, perfect time to sit and relax with a cup of tea. (I have three kids and it's summer.) You have to make your own and I realized if I keep putting it off, there will never be a perfect time and the teas (and the memory) would have been wasted. I've wasted too much already.
While the water boils, I turn the tea bag over in my hand. I smell it – nothing unusual or special. I prepare my breakfast – a savory scone, zucchini bread and half a kiwi. I don't know why I chose a kiwi at Fresh Market; I only knew that I did not want mangoes or strawberries.
The tea (as you will see) is very dark. I add nothing, wanting to find the appeal that Brittany found in this Mango Black Tea.
I take a tiny sip (it is much too hot for anything else) and that is when it hits me full in the face. I can feel my eyes brighten and my nostrils flare as my lips curl into a small smile.
It is the fruity tang of the mango. It surprises me and I slurp a little and smile broadly at the tea.
It definitely did not smell this enticing before the hot water soaked into the tea bag. What a tremendous difference and a welcome one. I was all set to not like this one, so my surprise was truly powerful in how all of my senses responded to it.
I've added my sugar, but no milk. I always add milk, but I know that it would change the fruity smell and the taste and it is truly the smell that gives it the flavor that I'm enjoying. The senses are a funny thing. I notice the bag (after I've taken it out) and the tea spreads across the napkin and I can't help but think of how much Brittany's influence and inspiration is spreading and will continue to spread; for some through her life and for others through her death. I also know that while it's not forced I am almost feeling ridiculous at waxing philosophical and how in with something like this – this ritual – it is almost expected and therefore can't be helped.
The smell as I put my lips to the mug is an introduction to the mango flavor – a warm greeting, like a tap on the shoulder – "here I am." As the cup is drawn closer to my face and the heat and steam go up into my nostrils, the mango scent is still s surprise in each sip. I tried the mango first because it was the one I least wanted to try. I don't like fruit teas. I really do, so the surprise is palpable. I add this to my list of teas for the teacher's gifts at Christmas so I can share the pleasing surprise with them.
I spent almost an hour sipping tea and writing most of this in my special journal; the journal that went with me to Wales and Denver and my quiet time at Starbucks. I liked the physicality of writing by hand, the ritual, the mandatory sip and jot and slow down, but the thoughts came too fast and I could barely read my handwriting for transcribing it for all of you. My kids were entirely cooperative, keeping themselves busy (and a rarer feat: quiet) almost the entire time I was enjoying my tea, Brittany's tea, thinking and writing.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
It's a New Year. I'd Like to Make Something of It
Sorry I've been absent and that you've had to look at the last sad post for so long.
It's a new year.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
I will try to make this a better place to visit, and promote it. This is my first resolution of the new year. Many more to come.
Hopefully, I can focus and part of that is finding a new computer. Any suggestions, please leave them here. Not having a computer to work on daily is definitely a disadvantage.
There have also been some health problems, which I am sorting out, and like almost everything else in my online life, it eventually gets posted.
And so 2012 has begun. And so have I.
It's a new year.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
I will try to make this a better place to visit, and promote it. This is my first resolution of the new year. Many more to come.
Hopefully, I can focus and part of that is finding a new computer. Any suggestions, please leave them here. Not having a computer to work on daily is definitely a disadvantage.
There have also been some health problems, which I am sorting out, and like almost everything else in my online life, it eventually gets posted.
And so 2012 has begun. And so have I.
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