Three tea stories (2) — Chinese Paradise

The stories I am telling here have few historical background. They are merely legends decorated by my imagination.  Just like anything that belongs to a fantasy of the past, they are as true as one would like them to be. But it is sometimes so comforting that a story could be true that it does not matter if it really is or not.


The celestial pavillon


It is said that in ancient times, the Chinese literati used to meet in very remote pavilions, somewhere at the back of a mountain. The path leading to it could be very perilous. Many hours  of walk and great dangers awaited the courageous mandarin. But eventually, shortly behind a cliff or a bambou forest, he was discovering a lonesome hut with a view on the sky or a lake.

Entering the place, the literati leaves behind any political or personal feud. The world of men has been temporarily suspended. Only the open hearts and high minds remain. Participants hold a giant brush made of yack hair. They use it to chase away the flies but also any mundane topic. Words and silence are getting closer to the celestial world, in the last visible levels of Mount Sumeru.


Between them flows tea. Cups calm the minds, they foster harmony and respect. The taste of tea evolves with each infusions, so does the conversation. Slowly, the Chinese men get closer to the purest essence, the most discreet savor, the most intimate and profound thought.


The Japanese tea ceremony, I heard, comes from there.


←Three tea stories (1) — The Buddhist drug

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