Eccentric Tea Woman

  They sat together at the counter in the diner. Him - slightly hungover yet in a good mood. Her - fully sober and pissed off. He reached for his crumpled pack of cigarettes, only to recoil when she slapped his hand. She sipped her coffee and wondered how long it would take to toast a damn bagel. He gently placed his hand on her knee and this time, she didn’t slap it. A single night turned into a vast crevice that could never be repaired. He wanted forgiveness. She wanted his nuts in her hand. They knew they had to leave the diner sooner or later, yet neither one wanted to make the initial move. That move would mean that it was truly over. She glanced at him over the rim of her coffee cup. He tightened his grip on her knee. She wanted him to ask for forgiveness. He wanted to brush his teeth. He finished off his Tea and sighed as he released her knee. They both froze - was this it? He looked at her. She looked at him. Hey - he said. Hey back - she replied. Five minutes later, the di...

  The wandering poet knows no home. The world is her bed with thick pillows. She drinks the ink and studies leaves on trees, knowing that the inspiration is right in front of her. Her eyes aren’t real. They are two violet coloured orbs that look into the future and turns it into a wild wave. She makes friends with strangers because they live one second to the next. She writes her poetry on the beach, above the mountains, and under the oceans. She is not afraid of losing them, only that they will last beyond time. Her wide brim hat shields her from the sun’s affection while her cloak was made from the tears of the moon. She thinks. She writes. She loves. All given freely. She wanders because her feet must move. She knows that no grass will follow her. The moss will find another home. The wandering poet sighs as the rivers wave to her. She knows that she is loved. Come, she says. Let me feed you with my words. Let me show you what the world can do. I accept her invitation and then co...

(photo by me - prints for sale) We were told to stand up and fly right. We were told that family always came first. We were told that we weren’t good enough, pretty enough, capable enough. These words from those who were called family. Those who loved us and wanted what was best for us. We were stepped on, pushed out of the way, learned that we would never be good enough. We would cry in the dark yet come out smiling because we had to. Always a pain in the ass. Why can’t you listen to me? Don’t go against what we have planned for your miserable life. And then....one day.... We woke up. Learned that the world is bigger than their house. We viewed colours for the first time and dared to live because they were afraid to do so. They saw our wings and tried to clip them off. They saw the light in our eyes and yelled even louder. You won’t make it, they would scream. You can’t make it without us. You’re nothing. The wings were heavy because we were getting used to them. We tried to fly, only...

  There is a river flowing beside my footprints Made of the tears of those who never truly got over their faults. A bittersweet river made for a bittersweet time To reflect what others feel without a waste of words. From time to time, I help in the construction, Forcing the thorns up my throat and out my mouth. A season Of dying leaves prepared to occupy the river Are of the utmost importance; the leaves are draped in spiders’ Dreams and rotting breath. A cyclical force churns the river,  Giving it animation where Death was once King. Slivers of rock adorn the river, adding substance To another year, perhaps. Dryads dance to an inner song, teasing me of my flesh prison; It is never my fault. They think the river Is a chance of a new life, a chance beyond their wooden prisons. So, we are prisoners, small and immense, trapped but in favour With one another, giving homage to the waters Flowing freely, wishing us its own success. Cool breezes Flow backward, distant and careless, s...

Of course, when I sit alone in my space, My refuge when I no longer wish to be human, I smoke, horrible, and think - Dreaming of times when I was a thought And not just a smear upon the wall. Perhaps this is melodramatic; a sign of weakness Among those who live for the written word But I must confess that I am In this way…unhappy. Sacrificed like so many other times When I was young and flexible like putty Able to be molded into whatever others wished of me Now, the clay is hardened; Whatever was last implanted upon me Has remained. So, I drink tea made of clouds to forget And instead turn myself towards the unseen To melt my clay and give me sanity.

 (my grandmother's hands - photo by me) Falling snow on my lips taste of clear air fading before I understand.

  As much as I enjoy drinking Tea, there are times when it becomes more than just a moment of quiet reflection. It's a chance to explore something new and delve into one's imagination! Drinking Tea from Mariage Freres is one of those times. This Tea company in France creates some of the finest Teas and to drink them is decadent - their packaging and muslin Tea bags are simply adorable! The Marco Polo blend is a black Tea combined with Chinese and Tibetan flowers and fruits. As soon as hot water comes into contact with the Tea bag, you are no longer in your kitchen, but rather on top of a camel as you seek out new lands. The mouthfeel of the Tea is velvet and smooth with no harsh bitterness. Even if you allow the bag to steep longer than normal (like I do sometimes), the Tea is still beautiful. I'm enjoying a cup of it right now while typing and the flavour intensifies as it cools down. Since this is a black Tea blend, there is caffeine, so if you're sensitive then this...

  I remember how a guy I once knew told me that Tea was nothing more than "tepid salad water" and that not everyone drinks Tea. We aren't friends anymore. I know that Tea isn't for everyone, yet it IS the second most consumed beverage on the planet, right after water. Go figure. When I made the switch from coffee to Tea (and somewhat back again!), I learned that many countries have some form of Tea culture or practice in their everyday lives. From ceremonies to samovars, from gaiwans to French presses - we all brew righteously. I tend to associate Tea with slowing down, conversing with others, meditating, connecting to the world, and a desire to view the world with a different perspective. When Autumn and Winter arrive on our doorsteps, the thought of being curled up with a blanket with a cup of Tea and a good book sounds divine. I tend to do that all year long, but that's just me! The first time I attended a tea festival, I geeked out big time. To be surrounded b...