The Tea Ceremony
A once in a lifetime experience to even witness from afar. A master of tea from Japan - highly skilled in the subtle intricacies of her art form, taking an hour to serve three of us tea in formal (though simplified) ceremony that most would never witness. Autumn, I, and another awed guest volunteered to join the mats in the center of the dojo and be served individually whipped matcha and a sweet.
Sitting on the floor in our little row watching this graceful, strong woman go through each intricate step in the process was much more meditative than I expected. Yes, the tea was wonderful, but the end product is not the most significant aspect of the ceremony.
They mentioned time and again during the explanation of the ceremony that this is meant to join host and guess – to bring them into the same space and time and to share with each other that feeling of tranquility and togetherness. Even though we didn’t know the right words to say or how to properly hold the matcha bowl, we were still transported to our own space together. The audience around the mats blurred and vanished. All there was was each other, her rhythmic, dance-like motions of preparation, and the steaming, frothy tea. I wish that I could have stretched the time out longer and that I could capture that surreal place in my mind and return at will.
The Aikido
Graceful tumbling that hides the brutal potential of the art. These acrobats have all the grace and poise to be ballerinas, but all pride, strength and power that make them martial artists. They looked so effortless out there. They flipped and rolled and pinned and threw with the same ease and lack of strain that most of us have when we sit in a chair or stroll across a room.
The moves themselves are carefully choreographed to show the power of the art without actually hurting each partner. They seemed to be communicating telepathically. Without the obvious verbal or physical signals, they knew exactly what the other person was going to do and they danced their brutal dance to our delight.
The Iaido
I am sitting cross-legged, slightly propped up on two small cushions, kness aching, back tired, feet going numb. Then he begins his forms. He is lined up directly in front of me and though he is staring ahead in concentration at nothing in particular, it seems as though that intensity is aimed right at me. A formidable sight – this man in a gi and hakama with his sword doing forms that him thrusting and slicing right at me.
My knees no longer hurt. I no longer felt physical discomfort at all. All I could think about was this deadly art being performed only a few feet from where I sat. The beauty and grace of the cuts makes you forget for a moment just how destructive they are. The glint of light off the sword is all you need to remind you of it. This is a real sword with a real Iaido master moving with full force – a modern samurai in both iconography and disposition. Truly a daunting, humbling and touching moment.
