“Above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” – Roald Dahl
The other day the paper on the end of my tea bag string had just two words, “Live consciously.” As I sat and sipped my tea, I thought, “say more.”
Years ago, I read a passage in Mark Nepo’s Book of Awakening that heightened my appreciation for tea.
“If we stop to truly consider it, making tea is a miraculous process. First, small leaves are gathered from plants that grow from unseen roots. Then boiling water is drained through the dried leaves. Finally, allowing the mixture to steep creates an elixir that, when digested, can be healing.
The whole process is a model for how to make inner use of our daily experience. For isn’t making tea the way we cipher through the events of our lives? Isn’t the work of sincerity to pour our deepest attention over the dried bits of our days? Isn’t patience the need to let the mixture of inner and outer brew until the lessons are fragrant and soothing on the throat? Isn’t it the heat of our sincerity that steams the lessons out of living? Isn’t it the heat of those lessons that makes us sip them slowly.”
Steeping my “live consciously” tea bag made me think of three miraculous events that happened in the last 4 weeks.
The first leaf
A few weeks ago, on the last morning we were staying at an AirBnB on Whidbey Island, I took Cooper, the dog, out to go potty. It was 5:30 in the morning and still dark enough to notice that the dome light on my car was turned on. Ugh, it must have been on for almost 24 hours since the kids and I went to the grocery store. I got the keys and tried to start the engine and it wouldn’t turn over. But the dashboard lights came on so I knew it wasn’t entirely dead.
I turned off the light, locked the doors, and went back in to meditate. I tried to dial down the worry about what I’d do if the car wouldn’t start while on vacation and away from the usual people I’d lean on. Check out wasn’t until 11am so I told myself not to fret about it until 10:30am. Instead, the kids and I packed up and went to the beach one last time.
When 10:30am came, I unlocked the doors, put the key into the ignition, prayed, and turned the key. The car started.
The second leaf
Miss O had been asking for weeks to go to the new Boba tea shop in our neighborhood. We tried once and it wasn’t open. Other times we had too much going on. Finally, on a Sunday in mid-April, we got there. Miss O carefully scanned the menu. Her taste palates are pretty selective. After much consideration, she ordered a strawberry chocolate Boba. She took one drink and didn’t like it. She wondered if we could get our money back and looked absolutely miserable. I reminded her that it’s okay to try new things and to not like them.
Mr. D had a raspberry lemon rooibos and was blissfully sucking his down without noticing his sister’s unhappiness. I was standing there pondering. I wanted her to be open to trying new things. But I also didn’t want to signal we could buy $7 teas until she liked one.
Then there was a moment when the shop cleared out, no one was waiting for a drink and there was an extra raspberry lemon rooibos on the bar. I asked the barista if we could pay for it. She said to just take it. Pure magical rescue from our misery!
The third leaf
Mr. D said a few times that he wanted to learn to become a ninja. He repeated this again on a Monday afternoon about three weeks ago when I picked him up from school. Miss O was also in the car. On a whim, we all were up for popping in to the Aikido dojo in our neighborhood to see if it would work.
We showed up right at the time of the class for kids, the sensei told us this class is for training to be a samurai, not a ninja and Mr. D was okay with that. She invited Mr. D and Miss O to join the class starting right at that moment, and they both loved it.
It was one of those moments where everything lined up like dominos. The least planning I’ve ever had to do for a great fit.
Here’s the tea I made from this
Living consciously for me means finding the magic in moments. The light touch that I can sense sometimes when I’m scared, confused, or need an easy win. It doesn’t mean that the dog doesn’t throw up, or I won’t break and spill the glass of water right before I’m supposed to lead a webinar. But it gives me a glimpse of a wider view in which I can find the current to flow with.
Surprised By Joy 