Sunday, September 28, 2014

Yet Another Cup of Perfectly Brewed Earl Gray


I am currently teaching a Western Classical Philosophy class with my son and two other homeschooled friends. By “teaching”, I mean “exploring” with them. I was not familiar in the subject before preparing for the class, but it’s hard to be a songwriter for twenty years and not think about the meaning of EVERYTHING. So I’ve got philosophizing in practice. Last night, (over a pot of Angel Falls Mist, a fruity-tart herbal blend at Uncommon Grounds in Albany. Sometimes this blend is offered as their ice-tea of the day- highly recommend when it’s hot) one of the kids told us about Heraclitus, an ancient philosopher who introduced the idea: the only constant is change. 

I have made Earl Gray countless times. Although it must be slightly different each brew, each pot, each cup, each batch of cream, each jar of honey, each sip at a slightly new temperature, each taste influenced by the air quality, what I’m eating, or was eating. My complete enjoyment of this most excellent blend is always changing due to my state of mind: am I staring out the window on a snowy day? outside (with feet in the grass...) on a summer morning? chatting with a friend? or sipping in total distraction while reading a book?

(At the moment I am staring out the window at home in the morning during early Autumn, the bergamot black tea, raw local honey, and organic cream blending with medium-fried eggs over gluten-free toast, with tiny local plums. Damn, I love breakfast!)

Yet, I find each cup “perfect.” How can this be? I suppose I know how to brew a cup to my general liking after years of practice, so it will always be decent to freakin’ amazing. Plus, if I have a cup of tea, it’s because I wanted one in the first place- wish granted! And finally, it’s tea, not a life goal.

Though maybe completing life goals should be more like making tea: practice regularly, fulfill your own needs, and put it all in perspective. 

I raise a cuppa to you, Heraclitus. It’s perfect. 




Rise unfettered.
Move with intention.
Be grand.


Monday, September 22, 2014

Mystery black tea, honey, cream. (Nice flavor, a bit stale.)

The beauty of the world is endless: clouds continually give me such joy, the wind is one of my oldest friends, and trees- they are spirits sharing, giving, showing me the way.

Unfortunately, I have to force myself outdoors.

I went to a gifted energy practitioner several years ago who helped me with several physical (and emotionally tied) problems simply by pressing on points of my body during one session, and then giving me a daily routine to keep myself in balance. I have been faithful to every part of that routine except one: feet in the grass to stay grounded.

Sometimes I have a legit excuse; there is snow. But usually, it's the ick factor that stops me. Dew, rain, coldish, probably bird poop, bugs, etc. 

(Ok, so as I finished the last sentence while staring out my window, I went and stood in the grass for a few minutes sipping the last of my tea. First it was all "yuck!" because it was slightly damp, but the sun was on my face, the wind was blowing, and my tea was warm and sweet. Freakin' gorgeous day! I went inside and got my notebook and now I'm writing on my front stoop- nice, clean concrete. Ah.)

Grounded. I need to be grounded. To have a better perspective on reality? To be more aware of the here and now? To appreciate the real world? 

I once had this image of myself floating high, holding balloons of all my fantasies, but with a chain attached to my ankle connecting me to my family and friends on earth. Until recently, I spent much of the day somewhere in my mind with characters and stories and songs and fantasies. I truly felt that if I didn't have obligations of people I loved, I would never stay in reality.

(Hey! A squirrel! What the hell is in its mouth?)

I've certainly become more grounded as I've gotten older, or maybe it's lack of good sleep the last couple of years? I used to have an active dream life. I also used to sleep close to my husband holding his hand every night. Now I barely remember any dreams, and need s-p-a-c-e in order to get any sleep.

I kinda miss being in the clouds all the time.

(Aw, such cute little puffy ones today. I really should get out more.)





Rise unfettered.
Move with intention.
Be grand.