How Transformation Tastes

Yesterday we discussed the origin of tea and so we understand that Tea is not made by accident, it is made by change.

Before tea can exist, two things must surrender their original state. Water must transform and Leaf must let go. As the saying goes, the only constant in life, is change. 

Water is content to remain as it is — fluid and unassuming. But tea asks something more of it. The water must be heated until it begins to tremble with uncertainty,  perhaps feeling like a caterpillar, not knowing what it will morph into next. The water continues to heat up until it reaches a point where it can no longer remain what it was. It becomes steam. It becomes motion. It becomes receptive in a new form of consciousness.

Only then is it ready.

The tea leaves, too, begin as something self-contained. They are guarded, holding their essence close. But when the transformed water meets them, they soften. They open. They release what they have been holding inside. Flavor - Color - Health - Wisdom.

Neither water nor leaf remains unchanged. Together, they both become something new.

That is transformation.

We like to think transformation happens through effort alone — through striving, pushing, and planning. But the act of making tea shows us something deeper. Water boils by changing temperature. Leaves give their essence by opening and surrendering.

In life, we often find ourselves in moments where we too are being heated by circumstance. Loss - Change - Stress - Doubt - Growth.

We resist it at first. We want to remain as we were. But something inside us is being asked to rise into a new state — to become more receptive, more awake, more able to receive what comes next.

And then there is the leaf moment. The moment when we must release what we have been holding inside: old identities - old grief - old stories - old fears - old dreams that have outgrown their shape.

We don’t disappear when we release them. We transform our world with them.

When water and leaf meet, something new appears. There is no longer just water and no longer just leaf. Instead, something new emerges called tea. The transformative reaction can be viewed in real time. Color spreads across the water in the cup. The aroma rises with the steam and heat softens the edges of the moment.

This is what happens when we meet life halfway. We change and then Life changes us as new meaning is brewed between the two forces. The cup (sacred chalice) becomes a vessel for that meeting — holding the result of transformation long enough for us to taste it.

The ritual of tea is designed in a manner that it does not rush the process. It waits, and to participate, one must learn patience and timing.  Steep too little, and nothing is shared. Steep too long, and bitterness enters.

In between these two, is the moment when essence transfers without force. When both parties reach a moment of clarity and union is created. 

This is also true of us.

There is a moment when we are ready to transform. A moment when we are ready to soften. A moment when we are ready to become something new and acknowledge that we will need to let go and change part of who we are in order for this to occur.

Tea teaches us to recognize that moment.

As the steam rose from my mug, the tea seemed to say: “Check your temperature. Release and allow  space for something new to be born between you and life.”

Here’s to the times in life that feel like boiling water and surrendered leaves, to pressure that becomes an opportunity, and to transformation happening every time we choose to meet change with openness and awareness.