Creating a Tea Space

Creating a Tea Space

One summer’s day in 2017, when I was living and serving at Tea Sage Hut in Taiwan, we were expecting a visit from a master who made Yixing kettles for us—an exciting occasion. We would finally see the results after many months of designing and adjusting the length of the spout, the height of the handle and other important details of our kettles. Gongfu was chosen as the method of serving tea as it is more familiar to Taiwanese than large bowls and would therefore allow the guests to fully enjoy their tea. When my teacher was preparing the tea stage, he took an old antique Yixing teapot, placed a few purple chrysanthemums in it and put it on the edge of the table. The teapot became a vase and a part of the scene, emphasizing the theme of the meeting and celebrating the long-awaited result. It’s probably worth mentioning that not only were the flowers purple, but the color of the chabu was also purple. Why? Yixing clay is also called purple-sand clay. That moment often pops up in my memory as an example of an elegant and conscious approach to creating a stage for tea. There was nothing accidental in any of the elements, every detail shone with meaning, and it still takes my breath away to remember it.

For me, this is a representation of what the art of creating a chaxi might be: wordless communication, one more layer of transmitting a sense and intention. It is subtle at first, but when you notice it and it touches you to the very depths of your soul, you understand how important it is to tea.

Creation of a tea stage grows out of the skill to arrange beautifully the objects for a tea ceremony into art that carries a message, an idea. In a traditional Japanese tea room there is a tokonoma, an alcove decorated with hanging calligraphy, an ink painting, a simple floral piece in a vase or a Buddha. Hanging scrolls (kakejiku) are frequently seen adorning the tokonoma where tea ceremonies have been held since the fourteenth century. Decorating the tea space became popular when Sen no Rikyū mentioned the importance of scrolls. Changing kakejiku to match the guests, seasons and the time of day became customary. Tea people came to think that it was important to express the formality of the guests or occasions by displaying various kinds of scrolls and flower arrangements. What is the meaning of the tokonoma? Originally, it was developed from the altar in Zen Buddhist priests’ living spaces. It conveys a sense of sacredness, respect and an appreciation for both art and Nature. And sharing this sense with others in a Zen way, beyond words, without dependence upon words or letters is very conducive to tea. Of course, you don’t need an actual tokonoma to put these concepts into practice. We all have an amazing place for daily practice: our tea space, no matter where it is, how big it is, or even how permanent. It doesn’t matter if you have a small table in the corner of the room or a whole room dedicated to tea ceremony—you can practice anywhere. Just like some people take their shower every morning, or follow some other routine that is so natural that it happens automatically when they wake up, we Chajin similarly clip a flower from the garden, choose a scroll of calligraphy and set up our tea space. This is a beautiful practice that helps remind us to respect ourself, the space, the occasion and the guests that might come for tea. As part of a daily practice, it can change our lives.

A tokonoma alcove is a very important metaphor to bring to the art of Chaxi, even if we don’t have such an alcove in our tea space. It can be a great metaphor for creating a chaxi and for the spirit of tea. What are the key points that we can adopt from the tokonoma concept when creating our tea space?

 

 To express an idea of respect, concern and hospitality.

A wonderful opportunity to celebrate the season and enjoy the gifts of Nature.

It creates an atmosphere, evokes feelings in the person appreciating it.

It puts special objects in the spotlight, instead of making them compete for attention with dozens of others.

Through limiting the number of displayed elements, it helps to approach the process consciously and with attention. This also adds value to space.

If you rotate your tea tools, you always have a fresh look.

It shows our guest that we were thinking of them and that this time together is important to us. We invested time preparing. Life is made up of many small moments, and they are as worth celebrating as the so-called “great” occasions. In the end, we will have many more Mondays in life than Christmas Days or major achievements.

First Things First

Returning from the alcoves invented in medieval Japan, we come to our tea tables in the twenty-first century. But before we dive into all the important details of chaxi, I have a favor to ask. Dear friend, maybe you are now at the very beginning of your tea journey, fascinated by the beauty and nobility of this practice. Perhaps you are looking forward to exploring the limitless world of tea with trepidation and excitement. Congratulations for embarking on this incredible journey that will offer you so much more than you could ever imagine. If you feel that you are at the very beginning, please put this article aside and come back in six months or a year. (I keep my old magazines for such re-reads.) Let me explain: The most important and primary focus of practice is tea itself. Always. Tea is so simple and yet so complex. We choose a tea to brew and a method and this will define and influence the next few hours of our life, and perhaps the lives of others as well. And everything else follows. Take the time to get to know tea, to sit with it simply, perhaps leaves in a bowl or using some other simple brewing method. There is no need to start with complexity and every reason to start simply—just leaves, water and heat. After you feel comfortable with tea brewing and are ready to improve your tea, you can then start focusing on chaxi. Walking the Way of Tea is a very humbling experience. The further you go, the more you realize how much there is still to learn and discover. Don’t feel like you must reach a certain level to start a chaxi practice. That isn’t what I am saying, just a suggestion to keep tea simple in the beginning.

If you drive, you might not remember it anymore, but when you were learning, it was overwhelming and exhausting. Paying attention to every detail inside and outside the car, from the signs and lights, other cars, people, etc., was difficult. My brother recently went to driving school, and in the beginning, he was so occupied with driving itself that he couldn’t imagine listening to music or talking while driving. All his attention was occupied with driving. Now, a year later, my brother can listen to scientific books while driving and notice clouds and birds, read slogans on billboard, for example. What happened? Obviously, he practiced and slowly, day after day, his ability to perceive a large number of dynamically changing events at the same time has become a skill, muscle memory. I’m sharing this as a reminder that we don’t have to get everything at once, and the desire to learn everything all at once can get in the way. Impatience won’t serve us in a tea practice.

Sometimes it is better to take one step after another and slowly expand the boundaries of perception and possibilities. With a relaxation into the journey itself comes confidence, and we train ourselves to do much more than before. I think this is good news. Don’t you? It means we can learn and perfect our skills if we put in the effort, time and attention. We can do so at a natural pace, focusing on what we are doing now rather than where we are trying to get to.

In our tea practice, we also have a lot of things going on and our ability to see them, noticing changes and reacting to them fully and naturally, depends on awareness, experience and practice. At the beginning of the journey, you learn to get a jet of hot water from the kettle into an open teapot—not somewhere in the vicinity, but right in the center. You learn to stop perfectly on time, and pour as much water as you need. You learn to regulate the speed and strength of the flow—some teas need a strong, powerful jet, while others are better gently and slowly enveloped by water. Then you learn to pour water with smooth circular movements, like in Qigong practice. To hone such skills means that you will be able to repeat this action in the same way, smoothly and naturally, like driving. Each movement does not happen by itself, but with full presence and understanding. Even in a simple action like pouring water into the teapot there are so many layers to learn and explore. And I just described an action that takes a few seconds to do. Tea brewing consists of hundreds of such small movements, each of which has a meaning and can be a little more complicated than it seems at first glance. So first things first: We need to learn about tea and tea brewing. Of course, a space prepared with intention is one that it is easier to practice in, so some focus on the chaxi can be helpful even as a beginner, but it is better to put more energy into learning tea in the beginning so that the art of chaxi supports a life of tea, not vice versa.

Even within a given tea ceremony, we must choose a tea first. Learning how to do so is a whole other article, so let’s assume you have a tea and move on to creating the space to serve it in. 

Theme

To start with, it helps to think of the chaxi literally as a tea stage. The stage can be a table or the floor, the area around the teapot—wherever the tea service is taking place. Right in front of us is a stone, wooden, glass or metal surface. It is rough or smooth; warm or cold; it is acoustically dead or resonant, glossy or matte; it is transparent, opaque, patterned or with color. All of these elements will then be part of our tea, the background of the performance or the canvas on which our painting will be created. The most important question then becomes: What do you want it to be? What stage will create the right mood and atmosphere to bring out the tea in the best possible way?

When we answer this question, it gives us a sense of direction. Maybe this is the perfect surface, and we’ll leave it just as it is, putting the teapot and bowl in the center and stopping. Or perhaps we will get a tea runner, a chabu, a wooden plank or stone block. Just asking what we want our tea space to be and then setting out to create it adds intention to our tea, changes our experience of tea and offers transformative insights into our life.

After we have laid the foundation, it’s time for the essentials: Teaware and tools that are directly connected to tea brewing, like a kettle, tea boat, teapot, bowls or cups, waste water basin, tea in a scoop or bowl, utensils, a tea towel, trivets, and so on. We then raise our eyes from the table and the tea utensils and feel the atmosphere. The whole room participates in a tea gathering: how it smells, how the light is reflected on the surfaces, what is on the shelves—all of this creates an atmosphere and has a pronounced effect on the state of mind of the guests and the brewer. Tea in an empty white room full of light will be different from tea in a dark room where a ray of light spotlights steam rising above the cups. Even the same tea brewed in two such spaces would taste completely different. On some level, there is no suitable or unsuitable environment, the question is always the same: What helps to create the right mood and atmosphere to bring out the tea in the best possible way? Aside from the foundation (the table or floor), the surface we are brew- ing on (chabu, stone or wood) and the tea and teaware, the main tools we use to create a chaxi are:

Light and shadows
The gifts of Nature: flowers, bonsai, stones, rocks, etc.
Music or silence
Incense or no smells
Space itself

Each of these tools can have a powerful impact, may not change anything or may bring disturbing feelings and spoil the experience. As in all things tea: practice makes perfect.

Once, in Estonia, I was invited for tea by my tea sister, Elina. It was meditative tea. We didn’t talk, listening to music instead. At the end of the session, the peaceful music changed to a soft and gentle song from my Mother- land. It felt like a wave of honey had washed over me from head to toe. Elina had made a playlist in advance and found a song that spoke directly to me. There was so much care, attention and tenderness in this small gesture. And I clearly remember this touching moment of recognition, so much so that even now, many years later, tears come to my eyes. There are so many ways in which you can influence other people’s experiences in tea. There are so many small gestures of nonverbal kindness, hospitality and love that can touch so deeply; and sometimes those feelings will stay with them for years...

  • This article was originally published in the July 2022 issue of Global Tea Hut magazine. It’s an honor to share my thoughts through a magazine rich with tea history, lore, processing techniques, and the spiritual aspects of Cha Dao. Being a part of a magazine that deeply respects and celebrates the heritage of tea is truly special, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to contribute to such a vibrant community.
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