Togetherness: Sharing and Presence

“We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business; we are each other's magnitude and bond.” – Gwendolyn Brooks

Togetherness is not a value of the Tea Ceremony. Chanonyu had its values famously distilled and simplified by Sen no Rikyu in the 16th century. It stands as perhaps the highest and most ritualized example of tea anywhere and has indelibly influenced Japan beyond tea: aesthetics, architecture, and ideology. This is where it departs from other traditions. The Nanbo Roku (or “Southern Record”), the gospel of Rikyu's zen, specifically chastises attempts at synchronizing feelings with those of your guests: the ideals extolled by the ceremony are worth more than human connection and wabi sabi becomes prerogative. After all, as it is often mistaken, “wabi sabi is not a humanitarian philosophy.”[1]

 

In a previous life, I worked at a tea company in downtown Chicago where I led hundreds of discount coupon tea tastings to a very “general” public (i.e. not tea people). It was always amazing to me to see how, in forty-five minutes, with (believe me) no fancy equipment, no petrified wood tea table or seasoned yixing pots, how many people would fall in love with tea. This in America, land of the loud, the individual, the big, the competitive, and the saccharine. What chance does a delicate steep of hand crafted tea leaves stand? How did this near-impossible outcome happen over and over again?

 

Whenever I'm in a high-pressure, rough, or awkward training or tasting, I always try to serve tea first. Talk and business later. You can watch the way tea changes a room. Tempers melt, frustrations settle, differences are put aside, impatience becomes presence. It sounds like exaggeration, but I promise it’s not. “Well of course,” you say, “It's that caffeine high!” The answer is much simpler than that.

 

Our everyday lives are great at convincing us that we could have more. In reality, most of us put our head down and try to make it through the week with maybe just a glimmer of hope for some thing that will bring happiness in our future. It's a very clever illusion. The central tenet of consumerism is that life is elsewhere, happiness is just a paycheck away, if you could just get out of x-y would be all the change you would need. Without discounting change as a legitimate means of growth, self reflection and yes, maybe even happiness, the truth is that if you rely only on external things to bring you joy, you may never find it. These places, products, pills or politicians don't have your back in the end. Instead, I volunteer a different, (though often unpopular) noun: people do. Each of us are the summation of our community, our family (chosen or otherwise), and our friends. 

 

Togetherness may not be part of chanoyu but it is an intrinsic part of tea. The very character for tea centrally contains ren 人, the symbol for people. While the confluence of the ideogram represents humanity in harmony with nature, it’s important to parse each constituent stroke. The fate of the tea plant and of humanity have become inexorably intertwined. And, being a plant, tea can not simply speak and say what it wishes. Its spread, enjoyment, and the multitude of rituals across every culture on earth are the result of humanity. Uniquely among beverages, tea is served as an invitation, as a gesture of welcome, and of calling the disparate together—even in times of war.

 

Sharing tea together, sitting around a bonfire, getting ready for a night out, playing a board game—these are the convivial moments that seep under our skin and bring us deep, real joy. It doesn't even take intentional interaction. Just being in a room full of people who are experiencing the same thing can make you happy—no extroversion necessary! Sociologist Émile Durkheim calls this “collective effervescence”, [2] the energy, collective excitement, joy, and even belonging, of sharing a space with others. You may be journaling alone at a table in your neighborhood cafe, but still experiencing togetherness. 

“If you have one teapot and can brew your tea in it that will do quite well. How much does he lack himself who must have a lot of things?” -Sen no Rikyu 

2020 drove us apart from one another against our will. The echoes of that are still found in communities across the country, particularly in the loss of so-called “third spaces,” the type of space most likely to serve Spirit Tea. It's astounding how difficult it is meeting new people and making close connections without an organic place to go (not work and not home) where people just hang out. And it's not just romantic matches… how many run clubs, climbing gyms, stitching groups, adult rec leagues, volunteering projects must one sign up for before they meet a friend?

 

My neighbor was guest teaching an undergraduate photography class at my alma mater and said she was horrified to see how little students in the class talked to each other. It wasn't that they weren't good students, or weren't paying attention—but that they they didn't know or care to get to know each other. They were physically present, but that was about the extent of it. They barely asked questions of their guest (a working professional in their desired field giving them hard-earned advice) and as soon as the class ended, everyone quietly gathered their things and left. No nagging the professor, post-class cigs, coffee walks, or Harold's Chicken shack—the college experience has changed beyond recognition! [3].

 

At Spirit, wherever we serve tea, we endeavor to do so with warmth, kindness and welcome. When you strip away the decoration, what you get is this: a genuine hope to share good tea at a bigger and more consciously inclusive table. So few get to experience handmade tea. I'm forced to believe the reason many Americans don't already have a tea ritual is simply because they've never had someone really welcome them properly to the table—not even for 45 minutes at a discount coupon tasting. It's not the company, it's not the tea, it's how you share.

 

Presence is rare, even moreso than togetherness. To be present bestows dignity. By listening and caring for others we make ourselves worthy of the same in turn. Completing the circuit is a magical feeling. Getting to really know someone this way, to look a longtime loved one in the eyes and just know without speaking—these feelings touch us to the marrow of our being. Devotion, even when it involves another, is often an inward journey. Togetherness is outward and happens by being present and sharing time with others. It doesn't have to involve talking. As the old adage goes, “there's a reason you have two ears and one mouth.” 

 

These are cold months approaching in an increasingly bleak and inhospitable future. It is incredibly tempting to isolate and shack up, but so much more rewarding to go seek and share time with the ones you love, deepening those connections. Having people, and finding the time for those people are impressive feats! Doesn't it sound nice in an era where things happen so quickly and in such an unintelligible blur, being a biological age where time feels like its moving faster than it ever has before in your life, to not dwell on other things, places, feeds, scores, or feuds?

 

Togetherness is hard. We are not always great friends with those we are forced to spend time with. There are many situations in a life where you compulsorily experience togetherness with people you dislike. But therein lies the key: it is neither possible nor necessary to like and extend your presence to everyone. As the holiday season reels towards us, we challenge ourselves to spend intentional time, to give others our hard-earned presence, and in the lightless, chilly winter hours, reach to find that impossible warmth within ourselves. It may not be much, but it is increased by the familiar light of another. Try sharing tea.

1.  Koren, Leonard (1994). Wabi-sabi for artists, designers, poets & philosophers. Berkeley, Calif.: Stone Bridge Press.

2. Grant, A. (2021, July 10). There's a specific kind of joy we've been missing. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/10/opinion/sunday/covid-group-emotions-happiness.html

3. ...That is, at least in the completely erroneous, oddly specific, and probably fake perspective of this author.