There was a time when I’d quench my anxieties and frustrations of day-to-day troubles with Starbucks’ tall, iced, matcha latte. Very basic, I know, but I was obsessed. I would enjoy one nearly every day which then became every once in a while after I was called out by friends concerned about my addiction. I loved how sweet the latte tasted without sugar or other sweeteners. I briefly heard of the benefits of matcha here and there but never stopped to do my own research, I just knew that happiness came after a tall iced matcha latte, no sugar. I’ve definitely cut back on the lattes and tried to broaden my familiarity with different types of tea, whenever possible. Eventually, I cut the habit and just stuck to my cup of instant coffee and almond milk.

However, a couple of months ago, I was privileged enough to watch a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, also known as a “chanoyu” in Japanese; a ritualistic preparation of matcha by a tea master in a quiet and soothing environment to promote silent reflection. The presentation is artful, balletic, and graceful. I recall being mesmerized by the sheer movement of the tea master in front of me and captivated by the process of making matcha. Admittedly, I was too distracted by the majestic movement to introspect and enjoy the company around me, despite being cooped up together in the small space. My higher self calls me to go back to that hidden tea house and sit in silence, something I normally can’t stand. However, the ceremony not only called for a time of self-reflection but further analysis of the intricacies of this ancient Japanese tradition. 

“Chanoyu” translates to “way of tea.” The art of the “chanoyu”, in its existing iteration, goes back to the 16th century when Sen no Rikyū refined it into a masterfully executed art form. Rikyū is considered one of the finest tea masters of all time. Rikyū developed a method to equalize guests of different societal and economic standings by modifying the tea room and making it smaller so that all guests could sit near together. Another of his most notable achievements was the nijiri guchi, the inclusion of a tea house's petite doorway. The modest height, demands one to lower his or her head when entering. The bow creates a humbling and respectful entryway. Rikyū was so masterful that he serves as the tea master to two of Japan's most influential and prolific feudal lords, Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Rikyū'’s technique focuses heavily on a specific Japanese philosophy known as Wabi-sabi, a Zen Buddhist ideology that celebrates imperfection, impermanence, and incompletion. It emphasizes the brevity of life calling for appreciation of the unperfect. In Japanese, “wabi” originally referred to the loneliness felt when dwelling in nature, “sabi” might indicate cool or faded. This concept is connected to Buddhist teachings about the three characteristics of existence: impermanence, suffering, and emptiness.

Prior to the implementation of the tea ceremony in the 16th century, it was all about extravagance and grandeur. Tea ceremony masters opted to alter these norms, valuing utensils with a worn and weathered look and finding beauty in unpolished simplicities.  This shift in mindset is inextricably linked to the notion of wabi-sabi, which is still highly appreciated in Japanese ceremonies today. Rather than using lavish décor, people began to gravitate toward simple objects found in nature. For instance, a modest ikebana arrangement of one or two seasonal flowers is placed in a living room instead of an extravagant floral arrangement. The teaware lacks brilliant colors in favor of more basic and subdued colors found naturally: greens, browns, and grey shades. The teaware isn't symmetrically constructed but it's abrasive to the touch and occasionally chipped. The potter purposefully produces the tea bowls in this manner emphasizing the perfection of imperfection.

The collective philosophy and aesthetic values of wabi-sabi are equivalent to the Greek ideals of beauty and perfection in the West. Wabi-sabi morphed into a particularly Japanese aesthetic after generations of merging Chinese aesthetics and Buddhist influences. The meanings of" Wabi "and "sabi" evolved over time to become lighter and more optimistic. Understanding emptiness and imperfection was seen as the first step toward satori, or enlightenment among the Japanese nobles. In modern Japan, wabi-sabi is sometimes simplified to mean "understanding in natural simplicity." It is commonly characterized as "flawed beauty" in art literature. 

A tea master integrates years of patience, practice, and philosophy into chanoyu. However, a short summary can help viewers understand the mental state that channels the utmost concentration. Once the correct mindset is established, the ceremony can begin as follows: close your eyes and think introspectively.

• What are your concerns? What are your fears?

• Now, release them with the intention of solely performing the ceremony.

• Arrange the traditional utensils and supplies in a quiet, calming, and clean area of the house.

• Purify your hands with water and wipe each utensil with a soft cloth.

• Fill a tea bowl with hot water and place the wooden whisk inside to warm it up.

• Discard the water from the tea bowl and dry it and the wooden whisk with a towel.

• Next, prepare Koicha, which is matcha with a thicker consistency.

• Add three scoops of matcha powder with the utensils and add hot water; whisk together until well incorporated and the powder is dissolved.

• Place the tea bowl in your palm, rotate the bowl 2.5times counter-clockwise with your other hand, and appreciate the beautiful green color of the matcha. Take this moment to pause and reflect on the process, the tea, and oneself. Finally, drink and enjoy.

Once you have enjoyed your tea, make sure all your utensils are cleaned and put away for the next chanoyu. Gracefully bow, thanking yourself for the ceremony and the moments of introspection. 

An introspective look at ourselves reveals flaws, dents, and cracks in need of repair. However, while aspects of our being need fixing or improving, other things simply can’t be repaired, erased, or removed as easily. It is interesting to speculate why people want to make these corrections to the most human aspect of our being, our imperfections. Without them, we would be no different than the inanimate objects used to make matcha. While certain changes can be made, certain things also need to be appreciated. Our flaws are aspects of our character. Self-love teaches us to embrace these imperfections and whether work with them or neutralize them. Whether it be a flaw we have or a mistake we make, they are a part of us. Wabi-sabi teaches us to appreciate the self and enjoy the final product after some introspection and amour propre.