#145: Tea time poems
Hello!
I hope you’re having a decent Monday. I’ve been feeling a tingle of optimism these last few days. Could it be the copious amounts of lemon tea I’ve been making to keep me company? The fact that I finally repotted all my plants that were lying dead and forgotten? Or perhaps that I’m slowly making my way back to reading again?
I recently started Rebecca Solnit's A Field Guide to Getting Lost, in which Solnit writes, "Lost really has two disparate meanings. Losing things is about the familiar falling away, getting lost is about the unfamiliar appearing."
Being someone who has always loved exploring and travelling without an itinerary, making space for serendipity and chance in my path, I love this definition of getting lost. This newsletter too is a form of getting lost. Of first seeking out the unfamiliar and the intriguing, then carefully sifting through the week’s discoveries and presenting it to you, my curious reader.
Today, I wish to indulge you in something I’m rather fond of: TEA. While my feelings towards milk tea is lukewarm, I’m a big fan of green, black, red and chamomile tea. The ritual of making and drinking tea is one I’ve come to appreciate deeply since the start of the pandemic, especially since this Vahdam porcelain kettle came into my life.
To get you started on this tea time newsletter, here’s a delightful set of tea haiku from across the world that I found on a haiku journal called brass bell. My favorite haiku from the collection comes from Joan McNerney:
my shelf has room for
five tea cups and
one square of sun
In the spirit of sharing an imaginary cup of tea with all you beautiful subscribers, here’s some more lovely and unusual tea time poems for you to sip on (metaphorically):
Ode to a Tea Bag by Jayne Jaudon Ferrer
It is the bleakest of
mornings
as I crawl from my bed,
red-eyed, rumpled, and
decidedly unrefreshed.
My right hip seems not to
be working,
my left shoulder has a
kink,
already a sinus headache
is brewing
and, oh, Lord! — look at
my hair!
Limping, snuffling,
creaking, moaning,
I make my way toward
the kitchen . . .
grope about in the dark
for the kettle,
grope about in the dark
for the tea tin,
turn on the stove, feel my
spirits rise up
as I reach for a cup in
needy anticipation.
Thank you, God, for the
glorious gift of Earl Grey.Sending Tea with an Answer to a Question by Hyesim
Translated by Ian Haight
I sit long in meditation, tire in the overlong night—
considering boiling tea, I feel endless gratitude.
Clouds of confusion disappear after one cup—
snow blankets my bones. My ten thousand burdens end.Favorite Mug by Ed Pilolla
Your day is like your favorite mug.
You fill it with the necessary stuff
to survive in this world.
Those days
let me be the seasoning.
Other days I get to fill it with your favorite brew
as well as mine,
vanilla and chai leaves and
inside jokes
and a dollop of raw honesty
and honey.
I will gently blow on your day
when it's too hot,
cup my hands to share in this warmth
and fill it with spirits along the way.
Never will I leave your mug
on the countertop with coffee grounds
at the bottom for days.
Don't judge me by my propensity to blast Van Halen
or how I casually enter the bathroom
to brush my teeth while you're peeing
and not pick up on that unhappy look on your face.
Judge me instead by how I thread my fingers through the handle
of your day,
lift the rim of your world to my lips
and drink in your story.Lessons in Tea-Making by Kenny Knight
When I first learnt to
Pour tea in Honicknowle
In those dark old days
Before central heating
Closed down open fireplaces
And lights went out in coal mines
And chimpanzees hadn’t yet
Made their debuts on television
And two sugars
Was the national average
And the teapot was the centre
Of the known universe
And the solar system
Wasn’t much on anyone’s mind
And the sun was this yellow
Thing that just warmed the air
And anthropology’s study
Of domestic history hadn’t
Quite reached the evolutionary
Breakthrough of the tea-bag
And the kettle was on
In the kitchen of number
Thirty two Chatsworth Gardens
Where my father after slurping
Another saucer dry would ask
In a smoke-frog voice for
Another cup of microcosm
While outside the universe blazed
Like a hundred towns
On a sky of smooth black lino
And my father with tobacco
Stained fingers would dunk biscuits
And in the process spill tiny drops
Of Ceylon and India
Recommended Listening:
-Flowers on Flowers - Mary Lattimore
-Paul McCartney Recording of Blackbird at Abbey Road Studios (1968)
-You Are Your Own Best Healer: SelfHealers Soundboard (You’re welcome)
Links of the Week:
1. Miniature Paintings on Tea Bags by Ruby Silvious
2. Climate Emotions Conversations, a digital forum for people to express their emotions
3. 99 Additional Bits of Unsolicited Advice
4. Experimental Relationship by Photographer Pixy Liao
5. April Poems by Rohini Kejriwal
6. #36daysoftype: 10 Indian designers discuss their process, inspirations for 2021
7. How to finger paint with Iris Scott
8. The everyday objects that got us through lockdown
This is my newsletter: Rhea Khanna
“Hope isn’t bland, lacklustre, or vanilla. Hope is passionate. Hope is sexy. Hope is just WAITING for us to take her out on another date for goodness sake!
So if you’re feeling a little out of practice – it might’ve been a while since you last saw each other, or you might’ve not even met at all (don’t worry, first dates are like ripping off a band-aid), here are 5 tips to score a date with hope no matter where you are in the world.
And if you’re not ready yet – and that's okay – give yourself the time you need, so that when you do approach hope, it isn’t just a half hearted "u up?" text in the middle of the night, but the start of the greatest romance of all time.”
- Rhea Khanna
Read Rhea’s complete guide to flirting with hope: https://thisismynewsletter.substack.com/p/this-is-my-newsletter-38-rhea-khanna
I’ve been consolidating all the Indian artists selling their work to raise funds for COVID relief work:
-Customised portraits from Divya - get a personal or pet portrait made in exchange for a donation
-Artisan Arbor's Feel Good Postcards - send someone you love a postcard of hope (Use the promo code “FEELGOOD” for free shipping)
-Urban Poetics’ Quarantine Qrayon prints - prints for sale
-Divya's customised illustration from Divya - get a personal or pet portrait made
-Shivani Javeri's illustrations send her a picture, she'll illustrate it for you
-Ro.doodles 2021 Calendars - I'm selling the remaining stock of calendars
-Seema Surana's prints - prints for sale
-Green Humour's poster sale - autographed prints of Rohan Chakravarty's Birds of Uttarakhand
-Art for India - a photography print sale to raise urgent funds for Mission Oxygen India
-#BakeForIndia - bakers across India cooking up delicious baked goodies to raise funds for COVID relief work
-Nori Norbhu's Art Cares Bundles - Notebook + Notepad + Stickers
New poems in the journal:
-Pottery Lesson by Vidya Venkat (The first lesson in making pottery / Is: be willing to get your hands dirty.)
-Apocalypse by Mohamed Saad (stranded buildings / in a post apocalyptic world / and their poems / like wildflowers hanging / down the windows)
Before I end this newsletter to go make myself a cup of lebu cha, I’d like to leave you with these parting words by Ava on how to avoid half-heartedness:
You can’t get away with half-heartedness in making art. You can’t believe that something, someone else will be a solution. It never is. If you’re fundamentally ambivalent about yourself no one else can change that relationship. Everything you’re reaching for is just a mirage.
Don’t rely on someone else to give you what you need. Choose what nourishes you every day. See how strong you become when you remember that love is just reassertation, choosing something over and over. Do it one more time & watch mundane repetition become something transcendent.
May your kettle stay warm with inspiration,
Rohini
P.S. I’ve finally created a paid subscription option on Substack, in case you’d like to be a monthly/annual/lifetime member :)