There is a beauty in stillness. This is recognized in movies by use of slo-motion action when a love interest enters a scene. It is an affectation we recognize and accept with little question.
In a small shop between Avdou and Goines is a woman who inspires that love. There is unending pleasure in watching an order filled at her hands. At the suggestion of my landlord I went there on my first morning for tea and bakery. By the second morning the woman knew my preference for one sugar in lemon and lime, or English breakfast tea. I returned daily for love.
Each morning a small ritual of precision took place:
A cup removed from the shelf.
Sugar placed in the cup.
Very hot water added.
Stirred to dissolve the sugar.
Tea bag dipped and left suspended to the perfect depth.
A cover set in place then sealed tight.
A stir stick to seal the drink opening.
Cup placed in a two-cup box.
Tag safely tucked into the slot provided.
A careful slide across the counter to present the order.
Listed here it gives no hint of the incredible beauty of motion. There is no rushing. It is noh theatre in a cup performed a hundred times a day. It is the serenity of the Japanese tea ceremony in everyday garb.
It is a small attempt at perfection in a routine that is done with love. Perhaps it is love of a job done beautifully. Perhaps an attempt to bring joy to her customers. Perhaps it is gratitude that they choose her shop. Perhaps she was shown this method by someone as a child and it is now ingrained in her person, repeated in their loving memory.
In tiny movements this woman expresses a life of generosity and service. Neither the Zen beauty of her gestures nor the joy it brings to watch them can be captured in words. I can only hope to create such beauty someday. Until then I sit viewing the sea and sip the stillness and quiet infused in my tea.
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