Warm, Comforting Ritual

Recently I shifted from coffee to tea. It’s part of a health issue but also, you know, I like tea. Jack and I have shifted three or four times between these two life-giving morning drinks over the course of our marriage.

Part of the health shift includes being a little more deliberate, a little more gentle, with food and time and intentions to adhere to schedules in the first place. Life in the slow lane is a good place to be, and tea is a way of being there in some surprising ways.

When you make coffee, it stays hot awhile and fresh awhile. Now some foodies will tell you that after about 45 minutes it’s not worth drinking, but most of us don’t mind, so long as it’s not scorched. Like gas station coffee that’s sat around all day. Coffee is largely forgiving. Heck, you can even throw in some ice cubes and drink it cold and be a hipster. It’s all good.

But tea, well, there is a ritual aspect to its preparation and a window to its taste. Jack sets up coffee the night before; flick the switch in the morning and it’s ready to roll.

Tea water has to be made in the kettle that morning. As it reaches boil, you pour a little into two vessels: the pot warmed and cleansed, the mug heated. Then you put the bags into the pot: one for each drinker, and one for the pot. Only then can you pour the rest of the hot water in. Put your cozy over the pot. Give it a few minutes. Too soon and you are drinking what my English friend calls pealy-wally rabbit piss tea. Wrong color, not near strong enough.

But if you forget and come back in twenty minutes or so, your tea is bitter, overbrewed, and worse, starting to cool.

I used to count stress days by how many reheating revolutions my coffee took in the microwave. A bad day was 5. Tea doesn’t play this kind of game. Drink it warm, or make it into iced tea, or waste it. Tea does not accept excuses. Once it’s in the pot, the clock starts.

Which is bemusing, because tea demanding this time makes the time protected, precious. This is when you have your devotions, play the morning word games online. Check your overnight phone messages, but don’t ANSWER them. Set up your strategy for the day. Sipping each cup, a little ritual inside a larger one.

Tea makes time by demanding it. Coffee will follow you anywhere, anytime. Tea demands loyalty and mindfulness.

I’m enjoying my morning tea rituals, and I’m learning to pay attention to the window of warm comfort opportunity in the pot. It’s all part of life in the slow-down lane.

The Problem of Pain–

Jack gets in just over the line again – –

The title of this post is also the title of a book by CS Lewis based on a lecture he presented. In both he tried to explain why a nurturing God would allow people to experience sometimes terrible pain. He likened it to a sculptor chiseling at a piece of stone to eventually reveal the perfect person inside. The pain is the chiseling, and it has to be endured before you can emerge from inside.

I know some people who have chronic pain and who might question that analogy!

However, I am an admirer of Lewis, and this post is on a simpler level. I have often said that you can’t enjoy the lack of pain until you have first experienced it. I’ve been mostly lucky with my health over the years, so my brushes with pain have tended to be fairly short lived, but when it goes away, there is an almost indescribable feeling of relief – almost euphoria.

A recent example –

A couple or so months ago I bought a new pair of shoes and immediately felt as if they were pinching one of my toes. So I swapped back to the old pair, but that didn’t help. I even went to a pair of soft slippers but still felt the same pain with them. So I made an appointment with the local podiatrist. This very nice guy had a close look and found that I had an ingrown toenail that had caused a callous to develop. Half an hour later I walked out to my car with no pain at all.

There’s another side to all this, which is, of course the opioid crisis sweeping America. Originating in the overprescribing of painkillers and then spreading to wider communities experiencing both physical and emotional pain. But that’s Wendy’s area of expertise and research – –

I certainly don’t mean to denigrate Lewis or any others who have tried to theorize about this subject. I’m not particularly religious, although I am a believer in He She or It. But I struggle to understand how a truly nurturing Deity would not intervene to prevent the worst pain. Something worse than an ingrown toenail, I mean.

Maybe opioids are the answer, and we as humans have screwed that up, too.

Come back next Wednesday for more from Jack