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In This Bowl Of Tea

Ten thousand threads of cellular memories stream to one point here⁣

In this bowl of Tea. ⁣

The moment I lifted the bowl of Tea in ceremony⁣

I was transported to the bowls and bowls of herbal soups⁣

My grandmother would so painstakingly make.⁣

My grandmothers⁣

Their life's work was to care⁣

Where love is expressed in food⁣

Sitting in the kitchen for hours on end⁣

Next to the simmering cauldron ⁣

Making sure the flavour and body of the herbal medicine was just right⁣

All the sweat and love poured into the making.⁣

Silent love⁣

The kind of love I had not understood in my young mind⁣

The kind of love I had not even begun to identify as a kind of love. ⁣

Perhaps that was why I had tried to escape it all by stopping myself from eating, going for years starving and cutting off myself from pleasure and comfort. ⁣

My grandfather's hands⁣

Deftly melding and moulding ⁣

Jewels and rocks and shapes crafted out of his imagination and hands⁣

His spirit is always with me when I put my chaxi (Tea Stage) together⁣

When I admire my teaware.⁣

And now I find it in this bowl of Tea⁣

Steeped in Dao⁣

That which cannot be named⁣

That which is still and unwavering.⁣

Tendrils of steam rising up in a dance of spirits⁣

I am home.⁣

I am free.⁣

I am love. ⁣

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Be you, be free, it's all available for you, 💋⁣⁣⁣