RAKU CHA RYU

Focus The nape stiffens up, the eyelids get closer, the eyes converge on an invisible dot. Right there is the bowl to prepare. The back stiffens up, the vertebras align, the arms relax and I walk straight. The way to the pavillon is ahead. When a great event approaches, these sensations can start occurring several weeks in advance. All my body focus. There is no room for confidence nor doubt. Confidence is the enemy of perfection, doubt is the enemy of action. All that is left to do is to tie the bow, looking straight at the target. Too much tension and the arrow will spring before the game starts. Not enough and the hand will shake like a needle. A tea ceremony is a seasonal matter. There is no pleasure to strawberries if they come all year long. To accept that seasons pass, that pleasures change along the year, is the very first step toward the acceptance of our own fragile condition. At my young age, there are already pleasures that I will not kn...

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. It is said that, in the Japanese world of warlords, merchants were traveling all the way to China and India to provide their masters with the greatest weapons and crafts. But as payment, they only received and handful of gold and despise. So, one day, a merchant well versed in Zen and tea desired to finally get respect. In order to do that, he decided to build quite a peculiar tea room. When a lord arrived there, he would be met with a garden deprived of any splendor. At the back of it, a weak construction was waiting for him. At the entrance, he had to leave his sword and to enter through a small square door that none could pass wit...

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...

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 buddhist drug It is said that Bodhidharma, father of the Chan buddhism, decided one day to meditate for nine years in front of a wall without sleep. Nevertheless, one day, his eyelids got heavy and he eventually closed them. When He woke up, he was extremely mad at himself. So as to not reproduce the same mistake, he tear his eyelids and threw them on the ground. From that same ground the first tea tree was bon. Bodhidharma’s disciples turned it into a drink by grounding the leaves and served it to the master. Hence, never again did he got sleepy during meditation. In the Chinese temples of the Chan sect (Zen in Japan), tea powder bec...

Some notes before I go to Awaji island. Since at least Napoleon III in France and the Jesuit missions, Japan has attracted the westerners’ eyes. It is also a country that likes to be looked at. One rarely meets a German that always say « Now that is very German ! ». Meanwhile, there is always some Japanese person (or a « Japafan ») that keeps on saying stuffs like « That is very Japanese, this is the real / true Japan ! ». To all these adepts of the land of the rising sun, one should not only learn Japanese, but also learn Japan . The myth of a knowledgable Japan In What is called thinking ? , Martin Heidegger wrote :  «  What does it mean to learn ? It means that what we are doing and not doing is the echo of the revelation each time of the essential. We learn thinking by noticing what needs to be kept in the thought.  »  (fair warning : it’s my super rough translation form French here.) Long story shor...

Camellia sinensis traumans — Scaring tea Tea ceremony today is often seen as a stiff traditionnal art, stressing, proud and stuffed with so many rules that an Emperor would barely follow…long story short : it’s a snobish art. Because of that and some other things, it also became a gramps arts. Recently, as I was talking to a australo-japanese girl, I mentioned that I practiced tea ceremony. She then replied with a mocking tone : « my [ Japanese ] grandma would love it. » Here is another story : as I was talking to two experienced students of my tea school in Japan about what we felt when doing tea, they both replied : « I feel fear. » There is no abuse of tea, but there are abusive practices of it. I said before that the multiplication of rules in tea ceremony certainly made it more beautiful. But it also produce more anxiety. And it was not always like that. Recently, I went through some interesting pictures of tea ceremonies taken at th...

Pay respect to the place Almost two years ago, I started to study the tea ceremony. More than a study, it became a practical, aesthetic and even ethical question. I practiced in my tea master’s pavillon but also in many places without any tools : in the Parisian subway, in a park of Omotesando or even at the top of a temple in Ayutthaya, Thailand. One of the very first versions of the tea room Soon, my room in Paris was emptied of any superfluous thing. I put some mats on the floor and then tatamis. A woodboard served as a tokonoma (alcove), some other woodboards were there to hide a plug in the wall. I had the leisure of thinking every single detail in the place.  Now, I would like to pay my respect to this space. It is the room where I grew up and never quite felt at home. I tried to make it into a personal space, one in which I could welcome my friends as I would like them to welcome me. No place had me question so much what « to inhabit ...