The Art Of Tea. The Art of Film.

DVD Available from Inspirita.org

Years ago, I learned that the measure of true Art of anything -- from dance to ritual, from cooking to writing -- is whether there has been a transformative experience on the part of creator and (if any) "audience". One might even say that when there is a merging of the witnesses (including the artist as participant observer) with that which is created, then Creativity is underway. 

Is it possible to have that experience by witnessing the creative process virtually, i.e. once removed by the mediating veil of recording or once-again-telling? Of course! The "entertainment" industry is built upon this "reality".

Thus, I am applauding (with a silent bow) the recent film Sen Shin An: The Other World of Tea for leaving me not only refreshed as if I just had a bowl of tea, but also for moving me so far as to leave the comfort of the viewer's chair and set out my dogu to enact a temae to create that bowl of tea.

Mitigating the suspension of tealeaf particles in hot water within a set time period is the mark of a successful temae. Likewise, an artfully made film distributes the ideas and images of its essence throughout the period of time during which you engage the audience. Sen Shin An does this very well.

Produced by Inspirita in 2011 in a gorgeous Kyoto autumn, its sections run from the didactic principles, such as wa, kei, sei, jaku, into a chaji hosted by Bruce Hamana, sensei. Bruce has been employed by the Kokusaibu (foreign division) of the Urasenke Foundation for several decades and is usually seen surrounded by Midorikai (foreign school) students at a formal outing or at his busy desk. I admit that I didn't recognize him as the kimono-clad teishu of the scenes of the chaji, being prompted only at the end in the credits. Seeing him at peace (even filmed!) pouring water is lovely.

People new to chanoyu always ask me if there is a special occasion during which tea is presented formally in Japan. Of course, the answer is "ichi go ichi e", i.e. Only THIS Moment ... every day is a good day!

The film’s artistry is that it sets up the final, seemingly austere, segment in the tearoom by inviting the viewer to witness the every day busy-ness of Japan in the same mind-set. The mise-en-scene removes the expectation that something very complex -- dare I say, important, mysterious, etc.? --  is happening, something that many other films do in an attempt to echo the power of chanoyu in Japanese cultural history.

In fact, nothing more than just simply making tea is occurring. The complexity, if well inculcated on the part of the host, is nowhere to be “seen” by the guest. 

The value of this short (67:39) film is that it captures the spirit of tea and shares it “just” so. Whatever history or cultural nuance are behind the experience, it has been whisked into a lovely frothy (Urasenke style!) bowl of usucha.

Stewart Wills, the film’s director, notes, “Although there may be various technical points of interest to followers of Tea, the film did not set out to be an instruction manual. Rather it strove to convey the inner spirit of Tea.” I wonder why the point was made about “instruction manual”.

When I began my chado study, I was admonished not to take any video of the okeiko, the class. One learns by observing, a fellow student pointed out. For one not able to understand Japanese, and thus (still) having little reference support than the now defunct Chanoyu Journal, I settled into the reality that I needed to improve my observation skills and to be careful not to practice only what my memory allowed, which was often incorrect. Later, Urasenke produced an expensive set of videos (still not in English) of the basic procedures and others that augment the famed “green books” (Japanese only) that showed step-by-step how-tos for the temaes. So, I can see why students may lament the lack of such a didactic film. (Urasenke’s Tankosha Publishing arm now produces a few more English-language books of the basics of the practice.)

On the other-hand, today YouTube and so many other sources of moving media are full of “Japanese tea ceremony” pieces. With the significantly more widespread availability of matcha (although, aside from specific well-crafted brands, usually not very good) and a mail-order chasen (the whisk), anyone can make a bowl of tea with a few trials.

Enough writing ... I must not keep the hot water waiting ...

"WelComing" Going, Going, Gone? Holding on to Gratitude

Kansha: Gratitude

greatful people are happier, healthier long after the leftovers are gobbled up, notes The Wall Street Journal. 

Yet, how do we know that those thanks have been received? 

Why is it important to be able to receive the gratitude for our actions? 

Are we able to be gracious enough to receive them?

It seems that in the days of virtual friendships and cyber-commuting the welcome mat has been replaced by the “send” button in a truly never-ending exchange of appreciation that, like the traditional Thanksgiving turkey, may be full of stuffing.

Over the years, "you’re welcome!”, the formal (i.e. “proper” in some books) English reply been be falling out of favor in this frenzied, informal, digital world. We hurriedly reply to the ubiquitous expression of gratitude (and its shortened versions, “Thanks”) with yet another “No, thank you!”

Whoa! Was the gratitude actually received? By replying to “thank you!” with “No, thank you!” may seem polite enough, but it does not mark the completion of the exchange.

Linguistics expert Lynne Murphy notes in her TEDx Talk that the British proclivity for the thankee to “Thank” the thanker back is usually due to the reality that no one else has anything more to say. In contrast, while Americans have been observed to have an overwhelming desire to show endless gratitude -- hence, “Thanksgiving” is a national holiday. Yet, she projects that most likely the practical depth of such appreciation is relatively shallow. She makes the point that the latter politeness behavior system is “especially addictive” in the digital world, such as Facebook.

No matter where in the world, language is losing its grip on the formalities of the past; my efforts to achieve good grades in English classes of my youth may have been an end in themselves. Being formal for formal's sake has little regard in the 21st Century, but while that may be more a factor of a desire to be genuine, there is a missed opportunity: what appeared to be "polite" for no reason is in fact an opportunity to experience something very human.

The reply to “Thank you!” varies across cultures. In some cases it casts a shadow of humility on the donor, saying that the gesture really did not cause any significant loss or was not a burden. Examples of “It’s nothing” or “No big deal” or “No problem” include “De res” (Catalan), “Walang anuman” (Tagalog) “De rien” (French) and “Nincs mit” (Hungarian). Thanking someone in such a way that is disproportionate to the relationship can provoke resentment, guilt and even anger.

Other replies can be “misunderstood or even misused to exert control over the receiver!” notes researcher Jeffrey J. Froh, assistant professor of psychology at Hofstra University in Hempstead, N.Y., in The Wall Street Journal. Thus, “Please” as “Bitte schön” (German), “Bevakesha” (Hebrew), “Prego” (Italian), and “Prosze” (Polish), can be inferred that the gesture is one way, or as children say in the game of tag, “No tag backs!”. In other cases, the giving might have been undertaken with the intention that, hopefully, it will promote pleasure, such as “Mi gusto” (Spanish) or “Gerdu svo vel” (Icelandic). The Danish “Selv tak” (Thanks yourself) and Swedish “Varsagod” (Be so good) makes the exchange more final.

Replying with “you’re welcome!”, however, is unique It can be said, or conveyed through a gesture, such as a bow in Japan or holding palms touching as if in prayer that is offered in many Southeast Asian and other Buddhist cultures.  There is often a break in the mute exchange during which time the cycle of give and acceptance actually achieves a fullness in the mutual experience and, thus, is complete. It promotes the idea that the recipient is literally welcomed into the exchange and deserving of our efforts.