I had spent the last few weeks not only learning how to make matcha, the traditional powdered green tea of Japan, but also how to make tea bowls, pinched and trimmed by hand. Tea bowls in Japan are highly valued as daily and ritual objects. They can cost between $100.00 and $10,000. These exquisite objects come from lineages of raku masters who express the wabi-sabi aesthetic: their perfection is in their imperfection because nothing exists without a mar, a dent, a showing of use or wear, Also, their completeness is in their incompleteness because every object is in a constant state of becoming, dissolving, changing. They emerge from nothingness and return to nothingness. Richard R. Powell summarized wabi-sabi as, “It nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.”
After learning the techniques of making a tea bowl out of clay, I started to feel a sense of quiet liberation. Not only was it OK for the bowl to be imperfect, it would be more prized if it were so. If I over-think or make corrections, the clay will reflect this state of mind and I will interfere with the natural spontaneous expression of the clay itself. I translated this to myself: I can be my authentic self and it is okay, imperfections are natural, beautiful even. I felt pressure dissolving inside me.
My mentoring in the art of tea making was not the ceremonial kind, but the daily drink kind. I was shown how to put the powdered green tea in a certain temperature water and whisk it until a light green foam forms on top and I was also shown how to drink from the bowl.
An order from Japan finally arrived which contained three different grades of tea, a bamboo scoop and a whisk. A tea bowl was given to me by my mentor. With supplies and training in hand, I was now ready to make my first cup of matcha. I put three scoops of the tea into hot water, whisked vigorously, got no foam on top but decided to drink the mixture regardless. A few minutes later, I had a distinct uprising feeling coming from my belly so I rushed to the toilet where I threw up my first cup of matcha. Empty. Back to the beginning. Perfect.
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