Chado in Context: Shakkei and Tidepool Tea

Shakkei (借景) is a term that refers to one of the three "types" of Japanese garden style: borrowed scenery. While Chinese in origin, one of the oldest examples of this arrangement that incorporates views of distant elements in the overall arrangement of the landscape features within a more immanent space is Sogenchi Teien (Sogen Pond Garden) at Tenryu-ji in Arashiyama.

I was delighted to be reminded of this idea when I was reflecting on my practice of "shadow-boxing" temae practice; going through the upper body gestures of a temae without the benefit of having the correct context -- including dogu, room, guest, fire/water, etc. -- whether seated or walking. Some times I even imagine this process without the benefit of actual movement.

Many years ago, I found myself visiting Esalen, the retreat center situated on the rugged Pacific Coast off PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) in Big Sur (south of Monterey CA). The sources of water are both salt and fresh. The waves crash against the coastal boulders with great dramatic effects of splashing, loud impact; in the distance, the sea level swells hypnotically. On the other hand, Esalen has been renown for its mineral springs since the indigenous people first inhabited the land. Soaking naked and silent in the cliff-side tubs of hot water under a full moon with the sparkling waves hundreds of feet below is one of the not-to-be-forgotten life experiences.

The atmosphere of this famed place of meditation, contemplation, education and deeply beautiful natural vistas and resources, is fully connected with that of the practice of temae.

I was at Esalen as a private guest, not participating in the many programs offered, but with full access to the baths, hiking, dining, dormitory facilities and the peacefulness of the natural landscape.

One day, I was walking to a distant point on the property, where I could see the mountains, large rock formations in the ocean and some man-made structures. I sat down and began to "shadow-box" a temae, incorporating a natural feature (rock formation) and a large built structure (perhaps the massage house or the main building) that were of equal prominence an approximately the size of the furokama and mizusashi at arms' length away. The coastal mountain range provided me with that essential background, separating that which is temaeza and that which is the "rest" of the universe. I have never forgotten the moment when I had to take the "roof" off the "building" to replenish the "kama". I still see the "bowl" of the "hishaku" held at arm's length with the background of the beautiful Santa Lucia Mountains in the distance!

Presto! Everything Up My Sleeve! Tea Performances!

I've always felt that inspecting the fukusa for koicha was like the floating "zombie ball" magic trick. In fact, I've been thinking about substituting one of those special magical cloths for a fukusa.

What do people see in the Japanese tea ceremony that makes them want us to do a demonstration on a stage?

The gestures themselves are so minuscule, mostly happening between the shoulders and waists of two people seated in a 9' square hut.

Chanoyu is not a spectator sport.

Even if eyes could penetrate the walls, nothing much happens ... water boils, steam rises, whisking inside a small bowl, a slurp, bowing. Pretty mundane.

I am of the opinion that it is the kimono that is of greater interest to those who have not seen the procedures.

Our bodies are choreographed through chado practice to accommodate the design of kimono sleeve, trying to naturally not droop our arms and elbows while our posture is erect handling the hishaku, fukusa, etc.

However overtly voluminous, there is nothing up my sleeves, to quote an oft heard phrase in magic acts, but they clearly figure prominently in the attractiveness, dare one say, the mystique, of the presentation. An amateur magician could not get away with such an outfit. S/he would be suspect immediately.

Sleeves are more receptacles for "trash" than repositories for the dieus ex machina of the "trick". That place is reserved in the breast fold of the kimono, in plane view of the guest. Holding kaishi and kobukusa in the flap of one's kimono provides easy access to these objects during the course of the temae, but is not very good magician styling.

In 1986, having been bitten only a year prior by the bug of chado, I was privileged to witness a kencha presented by then Hounsai Oiemoto, Sen Soshitsu XV, onstage at the Japan America Theatre in Los Angeles. From my vantage in the balcony, I saw this rather tall man seated in front of the daisu. While I had only once seen the set up at my sensei's tea room for hatsugama, I knew that there was very little room to remove the hibashi and hishaku from the shakutate under the top shelf. Yet, what I "saw" was the daisu stretching upward to accommodate these long handled utensils in the hand of this hardly diminutive man with long sleeved black haori. When I mentioned my experience to a more senior student, I was advised not to try to copy the oiemoto's temae. That was very good "magician" styling for sure.