Tea Time

I am back in India where my room overlooks the Nilgiri Mountains of Tamil Nadu. The past few days have been a nestling back into my perch looking out over the tea. It is a comfort to return, a time of sweet solace, of deep deep physiological, emotional, and spiritual work, and the joy of rest and the expansion that comes when we stop the grind and just allow ourselves to be cared for, body, mind, and soul. It is a gift and a privilege to be here, and I am grateful. The mornings begin with a bulbul bird heralding the coming day. I hear him before my alarm goes off. And it’s worth getting up for the sunrise here.

Since all of our rooms face east, this is how we wake. But the sun sets behind us, and the rooms do not have back windows, so it is easy to miss that equally beautiful moment unless you walk up through the garden to the top of the retreat. My first afternoon here, as the sun dips low, I am pulled to the back gate to a tiny dirt path where the tea cascades down the Western slope of the mountain, where a gigantic olive tree commands the ridge, and where the flowers are so fragrant and full of birds, you would think you were dropped into paradise from out of the sky.

When I return to my room, I begin to sketch out a poem: (still in progress):

Tea Time

It is four o’clock

on the nose.

Sun pours liquid light over mountains, 

splashes silver and gold on emerald hills,

and a million leaves

shimmer in response

like diamonds on the sea

a sea of tea

I need to stand in it, 

this ocean of green leaves and sunlight spilling.

So, I open the gate–

the back way out–

to where it’s just me and the birds

and the breeze

in this hazy tea-time diamond light.

Lantana branches out, pours citrus petals

along the path, and

red dust rises from between my toes.

I walk slowly

take each step as a breath rises and falls

there is no need to rush now

It is easy to stand here

at tea time

on a mountain top

as the sun sinks low

and the red whiskered bulbuls sing in the lantana

and the golden-silver light stretches over it all

glimmers the metallic air 

hides behind silver oaks

floats down their skinny trunks

lands under the giant olive tree

who beckons for me to come and sit in her silken shadows

But far off, clouds are coming 

seeping through the folds of the mountains

Soon they will curl into the village

quiet as a cat’s tail.

A bell rings, calling people in before dark

before the bears and the leopards wake from their sunshine slumber.

Night belongs to the wild things here

At last, Sun bows his curtain call to the tea

and I slip back in the gate, past the shell pink datura flowers

hanging like skirts

step silently to my room

where ginger tea is waiting

There is no coffee here, by the way. Only fennel and ginger tea. It is simple. Intentional. I like that I don’t need willpower to keep my head out of the fridge or the pantry where boxes and bags with snacks abound. Sometimes it takes the absence of such choice to cultivate the clarity we need. It’s not lack. It’s not a deficiency. It’s just simple. It is deliberate. I think about how easy it is to eat mindlessly and how often I grab a snack when I’m not even hungry. Here, Indrani and Narayan serve us our meals with smiles, and we only need to receive the gifts of their work with open hands and heart. I raise my eyes to theirs and bow in gratitude. So much work–so much time to wash, chop, slice, stir, season, and serve us. I eat slowly. One bite. Spoon down. Breathe. Savor.

It is still early morning. The dogs bark, the crows crow, and the mountains rise out of the metallic sky. It is good to be back here in my cozy nest where my mind continues to uncoil and my body softens with each massage.

I will share more from the mountaintop in weeks to come. Thank you for coming on the journey, dear reader. It is nice to have you along.

With love,

Katie