Sado | The Way of Tea @ Duke Gardens

When I had started this post two weekends ago, an early spring had sprung in North Carolina, but after some effects of the nor'easter, we're back into some cooler weather. And what better way to enjoy it while it lasted than by exploring the beautifully curated grounds of Duke Gardens. It was our first visit and we took the opportunity to share in an abbreviated version of sado, what we refer to here in the US as "The Japanese Tea Ceremony", but what more appropriately and much more eloquently translates into, "The Way of Tea."

I've been a lifelong tea enthusiast, sampling many eastern and western variants; acquiring some rare blends over the years. With an annual tradition of buying a pound or two of delicate white Silver Needle ("Yinzhen") for the winter, and routine restocking of asaams, darjeelings, greens, and oolongs, we've always had a good supply of teas in the house. And with each variety I'm continually surprised as I enjoy cup after cup of the complex liqueur that dried leaves steeped in hot water can offer. But as much as I might like tea, I know quite little of tea culture outside of where a certain type is traditionally grown or how it's produced. So when my wife asked if I wanted to reserve a space at a Japanese tea ceremony offered in nearby Durham, my answer is "yes".

Marked A4 on the map, the tea garden is in the Durham-Toyama Sister Cities Japanese Pavilion & Garden, which is situated in a small area of the Culberson Asiatic Arboretum along the lake, with some comically loud quacking of the ducks on the opposite bank (faintly heard in the garden). In this peaceful corner of the grounds lies lichen and moss covered boulders, a few water elements, and all the benefits of nature that help one feel at peace. Upon entry, one is immediately calmed and feels as if you have arrived someplace special. Not someplace ornate, there's nothing of grandeur besides the tall pines, but someplace special. And just by stepping through the simple gates to the pavilion, you have started something; and when you leave, it will be over. A discrete start and end.

Every step of the process is imbued with purpose. The covered bench waiting area just inside the gates, where as guests we wait for the host to greet us and accept us into the tea house. Before moving on though, this area is a place to leave all your worldly troubles behind, and are asked to be mindful of the experience we're about to share. As we move forward, we purify ourselves with a simple rinsing of the hands, then onto the tea house, and like the old Zen saying, "the only Zen I find at the top of the mountain, is the Zen I brought with me,"

The pavilion space was a small, humble building with a capacity of about 8 to 10 people. Clean, sparse, and open it was another reminder how richly rewarding of an experience it can be, just enjoying the most simple of pleasures, in what many might consider to be a plane, boring, small wood hut.

The formality of the process is very soothing. In fact even now, as I recount the steps in my head I can take a deep breathe, exhale, and lower my blood pressure a few points. When I contrast it to some of the everyday chaos of the workday it reminds me that there's so much more. The everyday view is just one interpretation, a tiny lens with which we view life, but somehow it seems to be so malformed; like the curvature of a fisheye lens or magnifying glass that distorts reality to make it all encompassing. It is quiet times like these that one can gain some additional perspective on the world.

All of the activities are slow, controlled, and deliberate, which emphasizes the respect one takes in doing something right, simply because it is done for the sake of doing it right and experiencing each nuance as fully as you can. It isn't the idea of a very rigid process, there are many variations of doing the traditional gathering, rather, it is the approach one takes in executing the process. The inherent drive towards high quality in every movement, every action, and in every intent. Including the pleasant nature of being exceptionally polite, for the sake of being polite and showing respect, not only for your host, or your fellow guests, but quite frankly as a show of respect for oneself. Not in some ostentatious show of bravado and fake self-confidence, but instead as a complete release of ego and to devote, even for just a few moments, your complete attention on the one thing, the tea.

Only taking an hour or so, we experienced the later part of the gathering, an abbreviated version of the 3 to 4 hour traditional sado. I can't recount the exact duration, because as with any activity where one finds "flow", you lose the sense of time by being fully engaged in what's in front of you. After previously rinsing our hands outside, we continued step by step following the tradition of bending down through the small, low opening where all are equal as they enter, closed the sliding door with a snap to signify that all are in and then it has started, and knelt on comfortable bamboo mats that covered the floor and even served as a measuring device for proper placement of our bodies and our bowl. The light aroma of smoky charcoal and woodys incense made for a very welcoming space. We first discussed the artistic calligraphy scroll and the Ikebana flower "arrangement", all perfectly matched to the aesthetic and sentiment of the experience. Next we shared in some light Japanese sweets, just to lessen the bitterness of the tea that is served without any sugar or honey. And then the matcha tea was explained to us as it was prepared. The host filling individual bowls with boiling water from a charcoal fired, iron pot in the floor; and whisked into a light green, almost neon colour, with a slight froth that gave it added body (think soft cappuccino foam).

The host prepared each individual bowl, and formally offered it to each guest with the most pleasing side of the bowl design presented facing the out. For each bowl, each guest asked two questions, both in sequence and basically first asking for permission to enjoy their tea, but only partaking if the next guest declined the offer to drink it first. An exercise in pure civility and generosity, and it was very rewarding. It stood in such stark contrast to the "mine, mine, mine." mentality so common in most of today's world, which we all succumb to at times. We continued down the line in the same fashion, first offering our tea and then asking if it would be alright to join in the experience of savoring my tea, as you do yours. And all it was, was a cup of tea, but inevitably it was so much more.

We finished our tea, obviously in no particular rush, and continued some conversation and questions about this or that. None of which was especially important, except for the fact that it was a mutually shared experience. Each of us was grateful for the time together, the good tea, and the sense of calm we left with and could carry with us the rest of the day. If you have opportunity, I would go visit the gardens and the engage in the tea gathering to experience The Way of Tea and find a little bit of peace in your day.

And remember, the path is the goal.