Excuses, excuses

One of the habits that I used to have is to offer excuses for things I did or did not do. For example, if I was late for keiko (tea class) I would blame it on traffic, or something came up, or someone else detained me. Quite often, I would spend time on my way to class to make sure that my excuse sounded plausible when in reality, the simple reason for my being late is that I did not plan ahead or I lost track of the time and started too late to make it to class on time.

When I went to Japan, the sensei there were not particularly interested in my excuses. The fact remained that I was late. Being late is rude to the people in class and to anyone else who is waiting for you to show up. Sensei was interested in apologies and steps to make it up to the people (including him) who were kept waiting by my lateness.

It is a hard habit to break this offering of excuses. Sensei would cut me off if I started to do it and wait for my apology. If I continued to try to explain myself (articulate my excuse), I was not allowed in class. I felt stifled and uncomfortable and yes, angry that he would not let me use my justifications and rationalizations for why it was not my fault for being late.

And that is the lesson, isn’t it? That being late was my fault. I knew when class started and really there was no excuse for me to be late. When I offered my excuse, I felt much better and it relieved me of the responsibility of getting to class on time. If I did not get the chance to excuse, explain, justify or rationalize my being late, the responsibility of getting to class on time remained with me.

In spite of the difficulties, I made a commitment to get to class on time. Everyone else made that commitment, too. I was not special just because I had difficulties. Everyone has difficulties. The best thing to do is to apologize for my rudeness and change my behavior so as not to make people wait for me.

A rich and generous spirit

I just had a lovely visit from Alexandria Dewey. She is the daughter of one of my first tea students in Portland, Debra Furrer. Recently I found out that Debra had passed away from breast cancer. I dedicated a week of tea classes to her and mentioned it on this blog.

Alexandria found the post and called me. She wanted to donate her mother's tea utensils to Issoan Tea school. This is a heartfelt thank you to you, Alexandria. You have inherited your mother's rich and generous spirit. Every time we will use these utensils in class, we will remember Debra and your mother will live on in our memories. She has now become part of the provenance of these utensils and I hope when the time comes, they can be passed on to new owners with stories and memories of your mother.

Alexandria has a team running in The Race for the Cure on Sunday, September 28. If you'd like to sponsor Alexandria and her team in memory of Debra, please go to this donation page. Your donation will go to research to find a cure for breast cancer. We have agreed to attend the Obon Festival next summer together to honor Debra.

Thank you so much, Alexandria. Take care and good luck.

Margie

The host revealed

In chanoyu, the guests pretty much make their way into the tea room alone, look at everything displayed and settle themselves before host comes into the room. After the greetings, the host brings in the utensils and sets up for the tea ceremony.

Because of the attention and focus of the guests, the host’s actions are magnified. Every gesture is revealing about the host. Because every gesture has emotional and psychological impact, we must be careful and attentive to what we do. How we open the door for example, says a lot of things about the host’s state of mind.

Precision when handling the hishaku, the water ladle, the position of the kokoro no kagami (mirror of the heart) and the sound it makes when it is put down, these first impressions set the tone for the rest of the temae.

When the host begins to fold the fukusa to purify the utensils, it can be a time that the guests begin to breathe in unison with the host. Unconsciously, the host is bringing the separate guests into one with this breathing. If the host hurries through this part of the procedure, the guests cannot catch up and the opportunity is lost to bring guests and hosts together in this subtle way.

The choice of scroll and theme, of flowers and how they are arranged, of utensils chosen are all clues and reveals something about the host. In these non-verbal communications, the host is speaking to the guests and telling them about himself. Guests, are you listening?

The presence of the teacher

When Christy sensei comes for koshukai, there is so much information that my head spins. She not only teaches us the formal tea procedures, has also lectured on aesthetics, talked about the history of the grand tea masters, given us background and context of Japanese history, literature, drama and poetry.

And I was reminded once again that we don't take notes in class. Tea is an oral tradition, passed by the spoken word and practice of making tea. It also helps to train our minds to remember if we don't take notes or become dependent on them. As an inveterate note taker with a bad memory, this is very difficult for me. I just had to take a few notes and found myself running out of the room at breaks to write a few things down even though by the time I got my notebook and pencil out, I had forgotten much of what I wanted to write down.

I have heard that in learning chado, the way of tea, the presence of a sensei is more important than the actual teaching that they do. Christy sensei told us of an older sensei who told her that when he was learning tea, all his sensei did was watch him. No words were spoken, the student had to read the body language and figure out for himself what was wrong and how to correct it. She said that we are very lucky that our sensei want to transmit the knowledge and just give us corrections and teach us actively. It used to be one had to steal the knowledge of tea from the teacher.

My experience of learning chado, is that much of teaching is indirect and subtle. That is through anecdotes and stories, we learn what is valued. By reading scrolls and discussing possible meanings of the Zen phrases, we learn the philosophy and by observing and looking at tea utensils, we train our eyes and mind in the aesthetics of chado. Temae, or the procedures for making tea teaches the heart of tea itself.

Intensive training

Twice a year, we are so very fortunate to have Christy Bartlett sensei come to Portland for Koshukai, intensive training workshops in the way of tea. We have just concluded three days going from very highest and most complicated procedures to the basic beginning procedures. As in the Rikyu poem we went from one to ten and back to the original one again in the space of a weekend.

For those of us who participated in the entire three days, sitting seiza the whole time is a challenge, but a place where training shows. Some of the procedures we only do once a year and to recall them and do them in front of sensei and everyone can be intimidating.

Christy-sensei is so knowledgeable that just listening to her teaching as others do temae, is educational. She incorporates stories of past tea masters teachings, history, aesthetics, zen phrases and information about other Japanese arts in her teaching.

I will be writing about what I learned in koshukai for the next few days in posts following this one.

It is always inspiring and humbling to attend koshukai. Inspiring because I reconnect why I follow the way of tea, and humbling because there is so much that I have yet to learn.