Eccentric Tea Woman

  This is the time when we must stop what we are doing and listen, listen, listen To what our ears no longer pick up. To what we have denied ourselves for the longest time. This is the time to rise, phoenix, sending flames to everyone, a fire baptism . Reach deep within ourselves and pull out the dream. One impossibly long, aching dream, escaping sighs from our lips Trying desperately hard not to scream when the knowing ends A nd the forgetting  g oes finally away. This is old, very old, our dreams, primitive and brown and black Rough edges, smoothed over by time and wants that increase with speed and haste. This is not what I had hoped for. As a witch, I dreamt of flying over little towns, Like a bird of prey, silence my guide, my dream of dreams And still it comes to this never-ending cycle of my questions From which there is no answer, only my dreams and my stained soul have to offer (not much) I want to finally see again, like so many others, those with the eyes that sparkle Their

                                                                      “This is what happens,” she said “When love has been given and thrown away.” Her face, something I want to forget . So many lines, each a sad tale , Each one a reminder of how weak she used to be. Eyes dull yet  still have the occasional spark Created from defiance from rejection given. Not too late - her mouth says although her lips Do not move, only I can hear her thoughts ; Such anger caused her to deny movement To any other part of her body. Bitter, hat eful , the cycle played out over and over Till she is dead, her body becoming organic  - Dreams fading away.  

  Tonight, she wore the red dress That makes her skin glow; you Know, the one we all wished we had. I probably should have realized That underneath it all was pure jealousy And that she was better off when she Wore her standard black. The dress came from a small store Now closed and covered in dust. I never went there; never wanted My own moment of godlike status. My glow is darker than most Due to my sinful thoughts and Exploration of sensual foods. I Made it clear for them to pass me By and forget my name.

  Although my latest tea adventure takes place at home, it's no less satisfying to me. Today, I traveled to China via Upton Tea Imports and their Chung-Hao Special Grade Jasmine Green Tea. When I opened the bag and took a sniff, the tea welcomed me into its embrace. Rain kissed jasmine introduced itself to me and I knew I was in for a treat. I brewed the tea for three minutes (the bag stated 2 minutes) and then I poured a cup. The tea rolled around in my mouth like velvet as the jasmine lingered. I then decided to do a tea meditation with the music of The Wong Janice playing in the background. Spring is finally here in Colorado, and a cup of Chung-Hao Special Grade Jasmine reflects a desire to be alive. This tea also reminds me to slow down and appreciate what's in front of me. Sometimes, I like to place brewed tea leaves in my hand to enjoy their texture as well as connect with what I am about to consume. The founder of Being Tea does this very practice and I can see why. M

  She laid her head down on her crossed arms and began to cry. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought to herself as the tears ran down her face. Because of a mistake I made several years ago, now I have to endure this shit. She looked up briefly to see that the day hadn't changed; in fact, the hours and minutes proceeded to go right by her without any thought to her dilemma. I want something more than this, she told herself while wiping her face with her sleeve. She slowly got out of her chair, checked herself in the mirror, and then smiled widely as she walked out and into the store to begin her day. As she greeted customers, she kept telling herself - if you hadn't been so careless with money, you would still be at home right now, working on your latest novel. Instead, you're selling wasteful items to people who have money to stupidly burn. She nodded as a customer walked up to her with questions about an espresso machine. The price needed to be paid. 

  She placed a leaf from the dying oak tree On her desk to remind her of the world Outside the cubicles. No one asked her why she had such a thing But only stared in silence Laced with misunderstandings. She never told them why N or did she care to. Her leaf swayed to a tune that only she could hear.

  She sat in her car and devoured her delayed breakfast that consisted of a vegan blackberry croissant and a lukewarm cup of tea. Each bite made her hungrier than before, and she felt grateful that she had purchased four croissants. Just as she reached for her second, she halted and then began to laugh. For the first time, she thought to herself, I'm actually enjoying vegan food. The last time she tried vegan food, her stomach did not agree with it and promptly returned it to a toilet repeatedly. However, and perhaps the tea was helping, her stomach felt quite settled. She looked out to the snow-covered park and the people that trudged through the snow that reached their ankles. They made no sound as they walked by her, their heads down and focused on their pace. She wanted to call out to one man and tell him to warm up in her car, yet she refrained from doing such an act. In these days and times, she thought as she bit into her second croissant, people will look at you funny if yo

  Yesterday, my boyfriend and I visited Shangri La Indian and Nepali Restaurant - something we should have done sooner. We both love Indian food and the last time I had Nepali food was several years ago. Plus, given the fact that we are still in a pandemic, it was nice to get out and enjoy a quiet lunch. Let me just say that the food was excellent and the portions were way more than enough! However, I do want to talk about their Masala chai. In short, it was damn near perfect. An equal amount of spices with milk and tea made for one enjoyable cup. When I took my first sip, I got this dreamy smile on my face, enhanced only by our lunch and then mango custard for dessert (it was so good that I wanted to cry).  Several years ago, I attended a chai panel at the Devan Shah Tea Festival (now the Los Angeles Tea Festival) and my curiosity and respect for the drink increased greatly. It really is all about the preparation as well as the spices one uses to make a proper cup of chai.  A little

  He felt as though he was born at the wrong time. Of course, that was an impossible idea; nevertheless, he felt it to be just so in his situation. He wrote letters rather than sending emails to people. He walked everywhere and felt grateful that he lived in the middle of the city. He wore a dressing robe while reading his heavy tomes in his studio. Every time he went out, he always had a handkerchief, smelling of bay rum, tucked into his pants pocket and pulled out whenever he needed that "reminder". He read the works of long ago authors and made plans to visit their sights in one year. Although he was single, he wasn't against dating but rather chose to focus more on himself and his well-being. He adored the feel of tweed against his skin and watched French films with an obsessive eye. He was, in short, not of this current world. Every morning, as he drank tea from his special gaiwan that he procured while visiting China three years ago, he read about the vices of the w

  She listened to Charlie Parker wail away as she tried to do everything but the current task at hand. It was not going to be easy for both her and him, yet she knew that she had to do it. She turned up the volume and then walked down the hall to the living room, where he sat watching a French film. As soon as she walked in, he turned to face her and smiled. Hey, he said, you were right about this film. His face fell when she didn't return the smile, but only sat next to him on the couch and turned off the TV. I'm sorry, she said in barely a whisper. Sorry about what, he asked. She couldn't face him, his eyes that looked so innocent and good. I can't do this any longer, she replied as she turned to face him. Just tell me what's going on, he replied in a wavering voice. She knew the tears would be coming soon. You want this independent woman in your life, she began, one who has no fears or worries. I'm . . not that woman. He exhaled loudly and then pulled her int

  One drop of blood Is more than sufficient As a sacrifice among sinners And pagan saints. Purging all that is holy Gives up more room to defy the order And begin something new. Those that hold the ropes Claim they never wanted it to happen; Foolish mortals were never quiet. Inside of this In spite of this Denial of this, never that Under frightful eyes With glass sharp tongues. Revenge is a cup of warm jasmine tea, sipped slowly, In case if there was something missed. Forget all that has been learned And focus on what is here For there can never be another Time.  

What if I got it all wrong? What if the very thing I'd been trying to avoid was the one thing I desperately needed? That's what Charles thought of as he enjoyed his Chinese food with his friend, Simon. Every Thursday was their time to kick back and enjoy Chinese food, as they discussed their lives with each other. While Simon kept Charles laughing with his latest tales of working in a coffee shop, Charles countered with stories of working in the local bookstore down the street. Yet, as he reached for his egg roll, the thought came to him that perhaps, he was wrong. He set his chopsticks to the side, giving Simon enough of a reason to stop talking and look at him with some concern. Hey, he asked, what's up? You looked as though someone stepped over your grave. Charles smirked as he replied - wow, people still say things like that, huh? He took a sip of his jasmine tea and continued - I spent so much of my life rebelling against the world. Maybe the very thing I've been

  I'm not ready for this, Sheila whispered loudly at me. I drank my tea and tried to ignore her, yet I couldn't stop smiling. Seriously, she said with a hint of desperation, I'm not ready to date again. I looked at her and sighed while my smile remained. You and I are enjoying some quiet time in our tea shop, I replied. I only suggested you try dating again. Michael is a long-gone stain on your shoe. I set my cup on the table and leaned back. You do what's right for you, okay? She nodded and sipped her hazelnut latte, then looked up and focused on something behind me. I turned to see a man dressed like a college professor staring at her as he stood in line to order. I quickly turned around again. This wasn't my fish to catch. Sheila quickly lowered her gaze and took a longer sip of her drink. Well, I said, he's cute. She took a longer sip on her latte and I knew that she had gotten on her bicycle once more. 

  He sat next to the old woman and held her hand. Her eyes stared off into the distance as she slowly rocked in her chair. Can I get you something to drink, he asked. Do you remember when we first saw that spirit in the house, she replied. He shook his head no. Out of all of the stories she told him, this was one was new. He sat up straighter in his chair. That spirit, the old woman sighed, was a force to be reckoned with. Always knocking over chairs and screaming like a child. At first, we couldn't get any sleep, she said. Morning or night. Always screaming. We tried to leave the house, but the spirit locked the doors on us. What did it want, he asked. The old woman turned her head toward him and fixed a steely stare upon him. It wanted to be loved, she whispered just as the curtains behind them moved with no wind. And, have you given it love, he whispered in fear as he looked around. I'm the last one here, she replied. I have no other choice. The others joined it. Just then,

She located the large box in the back of her parents' closet and cringed. It had only been a week since she buried her mother, finally joining her husband in eternal sleep, yet she dreaded cleaning out their house. It seemed that the more she cleaned out, the more items she found that she never knew about. So, it was a surprise to find the large box, considering she claimed she had already looked through the closet. She pulled out the box and opened it on the floor to find nothing but vintage cameras inside. She carefully set each one on the floor by her until the box was empty. She then laid on her belly and stared at the collection while wondering what in the hell she was going to do with them. Although she made her living as a photographer, she had more than enough cameras in her apartment. And to be quite honest, she thought to herself as she sat up, I'm not the right person to have them. She returned the cameras to the box except one - a Brownie that looked worse for wear.