Like Arthur Dent, I enjoy a cup of tea during the day. Unlike Arthur Dent, I’m not that fussy about it. The reason may be that a) I’m not British, and b) I’m not marooned in space. [At least, I don’t think I am.] Or, it could be that I’m American and let’s face it, as a culture, we rarely take the time to pay attention to much of anything.
Hey Kid! Just whip up that Oprah Chai Tea Latte for me, pronto! I’m late for a meeting!
Well, no. Not me. I’m not going to be late for anything. I’m a writer after all. But while I was waiting for my tea to steep (that’s a funny word: “steep”) and wondering if I need a new pair of fuzzy slippers—the ears fell off the left bunny and the right one looks like it has mange—I began to reflect on how different cultures deal with the more mundane aspects of life…like tea.
The Brits, God love ‘em, have “tea time.” At four in the afternoon, they stop what they’re doing for a cup of hot brown and maybe a piece of cake. Tommys at the bottom of a muddy trench somewhere in France, with Hun artillery shells flying overhead, and shrapnel ricocheting around the timber frames, still made time to put the kettle on.
The Japanese take this a step further. They have an elaborate ritual for preparing and drinking tea. Each choreographed movement is performed with deliberation and imbued with meaning. Each beautifully crafted implement has a specific function, that when properly employed, adds to the fascination of the proceedings, which is precisely the point. The whole thing is meant to focus the mind on the now; this present moment.
And that’s my point as well. How do we deal with now? Do we have a healthy attitude toward time? Sticking with my theme, let me quote Ford Prefect, “Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so.”
If we say we have no time for something, we are largely correct, but not in the way we think. Time is not like loose change in our pocket. I have enough for a soda, or I don’t. If I don’t, I’ll get more.
No, we only ever have right now. The past is history that we cannot live again, no matter how much we pine for it, or how we pour it over everything we do now. The future is a phantom, a shadow we convince ourselves is real, but whose reality is not promised to us.
The days fly by and we never stop to think where we are or what we’re doing. It’s almost as if we prefer to pretend that now doesn’t matter. If I stop long enough to take stock, I may not like what I see. If I turn off the noise and just listen, what will I hear? It’s frightening.
Besides, I don’t have the time.
Well then, my conception of time is unhealthy, and tomorrow becomes a convenient rug under which to sweep all my fears, hopes, and good intentions.
So what’s the use?
Tell you what: let’s try an experiment. Sometime before you go to bed today, get yourself a cup of something and sit down somewhere comfortable by yourself. Turn off the TV, radio, cell phone, computer and all the other noise-makers that are trying to steal your soul and just be.
Listen to the birds, the kids playing, the traffic, the wind, or even just your own heartbeat. Then when you’re settled, I want you to think about this: Right now, where you are, as you are, you are known and loved. More than you can love yourself. Give Him thanks for this moment. Tell Him you love Him back.
Now, do you take one lump or two?
