"The outsider may indeed wonder at this seeming much ado about nothing. What a tempest in a tea-cup! He will say. But when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup… Those who cannot feel the littleness of great things in themselves are apt to overlook the greatness of little things in others."*
I want to say his thinking, in general, isn’t new, but it does give us a way to connect to others and to the cosmos. As most meditators know, starting from a sound (like Om), a phrase (like “in the beginning”), or an idea (like The Good) can be a doorway into insights through a stream of consciousness. Objects also serve as such doorways, and rituals centered on them can codify the process of meditation. Start small, is the idea, and then build from quantum to cosmos. Tea cups and the tea service are both quantum and shared ritual. There isn't just a "tempest" in a tea cup. A tea cup holds more than a drink; it's a cup of the cosmos; it's a cup of humanity.
Of course, in a busy world, we all seek some respite. And in the Western World we have our coffee shops and coffee shop rituals. There are, as we all know, “ways to behave” in coffee shops, such as the ritual of staring at a laptop or tablet and losing ourselves in the seemingly endless reaches of cyberspace while sitting largely unaware of and an arm’s length from the next coffee drinker. Yes, Westerners have rituals, but those centered on the lonely consumption of coffee in a paper cup dressed in an obligatory cardboard sleeve aren’t quite the same as the ritual in a tea room. We can drink alone in the corner of a crowded coffee shop.
Most of us are truly “outsiders” in Okakura’s sense of the word. True, we often go to coffee houses with companions, but the ritual drinking is an informal process (one usually loaded with extra calories poured, stirred, and steamed into our drinks). Concentrated, deliberate actions that could lead to expanded thought aren’t the goal in the busy coffee shop. Sharing? Other than being careful not to spill an expensive latte, few would say they see something significant in the actions of other coffee drinkers. “Mocha or caramel?” The question isn’t the same in a coffee house as “Orange pekoe or Camellia sinensis?” is in a tea house.
And that brings me to the matter of ritual. Why bother with elaborate repeated behaviors in stylized contexts? What do we gain from ritual? What have YOU gained through your own rituals? Is there anything comparable to a tea ceremony in your life? If there is, does your personal ritual lead to your seeing “the greatness of little things in others”? Do you have a ritual that enables you to see the expanse of the cosmos in a microcosmic cup?
*Okakura, Kakuzo. The Book of Tea, 1906. Reprinted in 1964 by Dover Publications, Inc.
Available online at https://www.gutenberg.org/files/769/769-h/769-h.htm