chado.

I feel like going for chado classes again.

I miss the tea, miss the sound of sliding opening a washi paper door;
I miss the smell of the tatami as you first enter, miss the shadows and dimness of the rooms;
the 'intensity' in folding the chakin, the sound of the gentle yet firm whisking using the chashaku;
I miss the silence, miss the steadiness when cleansing the utensils,
I miss the feel of a warm chawan in my hands, wabi sabi, flawed yet perfect;
I miss the slow and dignified slurps, the respect that holds all these traditions aloft;
I miss the alcove, stepping in, glazing at the scrolls and flowers, pottery warmed by the sweet light, the subtle messages that they mean to convey.
Ichi-go-ichi-e;
One time, one meeting;
One lifetime, one chance.

Would you remember the rain or would you remember the dances ?