Welcome,
Dear heart.
I am so glad you have joined me for another tea journey.
And before we begin,
Take a moment to settle into a place where you can be completely comfortable.
Maybe wrap yourself in a cozy blanket if you have one.
And bring your favourite cup of tea into your hands.
And then just simply pause.
Notice the warmth of your cup.
The fragrance rising with the steam.
The invitation to slow down.
And then take a long,
Easy breath in.
Slowly.
Breathe out.
And again,
Breathing in calm.
And then just breathing out anything that no longer needs your attention.
And then one more beautiful breath.
And allow yourself to arrive.
And before we begin today's journey.
Take your first mindful sip of your tea.
And as the warmth settles within you,
Just imagine a path unfolding before you.
And last time you visited the Snow Lantern Tea House.
And perhaps,
For just a moment,
You notice your little cedar lantern resting safely beside you.
Its glow brings a smile to your face.
But you don't need to carry that one today.
Because it already lives in your heart today.
Another path is waiting.
A path that winds through tall bamboo.
Touched by the lightest wee bit of frost.
Let's take another sip of your tea.
And as you begin to walk,
The morning air feels wonderfully fresh.
The world is quiet.
That beautiful quiet that isn't empty.
It's the kind that invites you to listen.
Tall green bamboo rises all around you.
Each slender stem reaches gracefully towards the pale winter sky.
Delicate dusting of frost catches the morning light making every leaf sparkle for just a moment.
And a beautiful soft breeze drifts through the grove,
And the bamboo sways together,
Not resisting,
Not straining,
Just simply moving as one.
And you stop walking.
And you listen.
Not to words.
But to the music of the garden.
The rustle of the bamboo leaves.
The whisper of the breeze.
And somewhere in the distance.
A single bamboo fountain tips.
Allowing cool water to fall onto smooth stone.
Silence returns.
And then,
After a little while.
.
.
The sound comes again,
Slow and gentle and patient.
And take another beautiful sip of your tea.
Notice how the tea tastes now.
Maybe it's a little softer than before.
Perhaps a little brighter.
But like the bamboo,
It asks nothing of you.
Only your attention.
And you continue along the winding path until you become to a simple wooden gate.
And beyond it lies a small tea garden.
Everything here has been lovingly tended.
A stone path,
Tiny wee bridge,
A pond reflecting the winter sky.
And in the centre.
A small wooden tea house.
Waiting just quietly.
And the wood gate opens with the softest sound.
And you step through and follow the smooth stone path towards the tea house.
Its walls are simple cedar,
Its roof carries the lightest dusting of frost.
And paper screens glow with warm morning light from within.
And for a moment.
You simply stand and look.
There is nothing grand about this place.
Nothing trying to impress.
And yet.
.
.
It is beautiful.
Perhaps beauty is never needed to be complicated.
And you take another beautiful sip of your tea.
And then you slide the door open.
And warmth greets you immediately.
A small fire crackles in the hearth.
The cast iron kettle hums its familiar song.
The room smells of cedarwood,
Fresh tea,
And the faint sweetness of winter blossoms arranged in a simple clay vase.
The teakeeper looks up and he smiles.
His eyes sparkle with kindness and he bows gently.
And you return the bow.
And no words are needed.
And then he simply gestures towards a cushion beside the fire.
And as you settle down comfortably.
He refills your cup with care.
The tea streams into your cup in a graceful rhythm.
And steam rises once more,
Curling softly into the air.
And before drinking,
Take a moment to breathe in its fragrance.
Notice how familiar it already feels.
And then take another beautiful sip.
Outside the bamboo sways,
Inside everything is still.
The teakeeper lifts his own cup and listens.
And at first you wonder.
.
.
What they are listening to.
And then you hear it.
Talk.
The Bamboo Fountain.
Silence.
And then the teakeeper smiles.
It never hurries.
And you wait.
But they say nothing more.
Let the room go.
Grows quiet again.
And a few moments pass before they continue.
The bamboo never argues with the wind.
It just listens.
And you watch the steam rising from your tea.
And he says it bends.
And the fire crackles.
And he continues,
And when the wind has passed.
The teakeeper smiles and says,
It is still standing.
And then silence just settles around the room.
There's nothing to explain,
Nothing to solve.
You simply allow these words to rest within you and you take another beautiful sip of your tea.
And perhaps there have been times when life has just felt like a strong wind.
Times when everything seemed uncertain.
And the bamboo does not teach us to be unshakable.
It teaches us something even more beautiful.
To move when life.
When we need to.
Just move with life.
And to trust that our roots know how to hold us.
That's strong.
And you look out through the paper screen and a breeze moves through the grove once more.
And thousands of bamboo leaves whisper together.
And not one of them clings to the wind.
They simply welcome it and let it pass.
And the teakeeper closes their eyes for a moment,
As though listening to an old friend.
And you do the same.
And for a little while,
It's only the sound of the fountain.
Whispering leaves.
The warmth of a fire.
And your own breathing.
And you take another beautiful sip of your tea.
Notice how peaceful your tea feels now.
The flavors have softened.
The warmth has spread through your body.
The tea has never asked you to become someone different.
It has simply invited you to be fully present.
And after a while,
The teakeeper stands.
And he says it's almost time.
And together you step once more outside.
And the bamboo grove shimmers in the winter light.
Everything feels calm.
Everything feels awake.
And as you prepare to leave,
A beautiful breeze moves through the garden.
One tiny bamboo wind bell begins to sway.
Its sound is so delicate,
You almost miss it.
Just one clear note.
Then stone us.
The teakeeper smiles.
And it seems the garden has chosen a keepsake for you.
And they carefully lift the tiny bamboo windbell from its branch.
It is beautifully simple.
Smooth,
Pale bamboo.
Fine natural twine.
And a tiny jade bead resting at its centre.
And they place it carefully into your open hands.
And for a moment they gently close your fingers around it.
You can feel the smooth bamboo beneath your fingers.
The weight of it.
The love with which it has been given.
And the teakeeper offers its blessing.
May this little bell remind you that life's gentlest whispers are often the ones your heart most needs to hear.
And you bow with gratitude.
And the little bowel rests safely in your pocket as you begin walking back along the frosted path.
And you take another sip of your tea.
The bamboo grows,
Slowly begins to soften.
The frosted leaves become morning mist.
And the little bridge fades.
The tea house disappears behind the trees.
And only the peaceful feeling remains.
And gradually you become aware of the room around you once more,
Your own chair supporting you.
The familiar sounds of your home.
Your warm cup still resting in your hands.
And perhaps there is one final sip waiting for you.
And if there is.
.
.
Receive it slowly,
With gratitude.
And as you finish your tea,
Notice how peaceful you feel.
And although the bamboo garden has faded.
You can almost feel the tiny wind bell resting safely in your pocket.
And beside it somewhere deep within your heart.
Your little cedar lantern still glows.
One reminds you to trust the seasons.
The other reminds you to listen for life's whispers.
To keep safe.
Two Journeys.
Two companions to carry with you.
Perhaps you smile.
Knowing there will be another path waiting for you soon.
Another cup of tea.
Another sacred place.
Another keepsake.
Chosen especially for you.
And until we meet again,
May your cup be full.
May your heart remain open.
May you always find wisdom in life's moments.
One breath.
One sip.
One whisper at a time.
And so it is.
Namaste.
