Let us speak of lovely things in time of plague. Tea and mental reconstruction of the spirit. AKA I'm back, tea-bitches.
Also in the new beginning we shall discuss mental health, which seems a safe subject in this much saddened universe we now live in. Well, my angst after leaving California and moving to Kentucky 18 months ago did indeed effect my ability to enjoy tea, or much of anything really. I even considered going back to day-drinking, readers! And I am a mean red wine afternoon drinking fool so I couldn't do that.
But now I am back, thanks to getting some help. Hey, out there! Feel mentally like total shite? Get help. Online Zoom visits with a psychiatrist are doing wonders for me, and I have learned I've been on the wrong medication for many, and I mean MANY years. So, say hello to your still manic, but working-on-it Zen Buddha-Mom, back in the tea drinking saddle. Maybe I should drop the 'mom' and make myself just Ol' Hani. I used to think I was the greatest mom in the land, my home a place of creative opportunities, things to touch and explore, a mellow vibe, a uniquely sweet and happy home. Now I have a teenager so I dont know what kind of home I have.
Disjointed? Frightening? Sometimes achingly sentimental for the easier past, and I don't mean Covid, but my child's childhood.
Learning to lean into the fifty plus age group is another challenge. What do I do NOW when I get squirrely, and don't have the ability to seduce postmen and gardeners and handymen who are supposed to be Jehovah's Witnesses (HA!) with my charm and deadly wit? Turns out that's the time to find a psychiatrist because getting squirrely sans sexual charm is dangerous play at best, and sophmorically embarrassing at its zenith. AND, the kicker? I never had "charm and deadly wit," I was just in a mania of delusion. No wonder I never got into any real trouble. Thank GOD.
Now that I am getting right with Jesus, and by 'Jesus' I mean anyone other than Jesus, I find I can sit on my meditation mat, measure the tea by the gram, watch the kettle get to the hopefully correct temperatures, smell the smells, breathe the air inside the gaiwan, and explore once again, the highly intense yet meditative time that is Gong Fu Cha!
Soon I will be sharing with you my first experiences with a Sheng that made me crazy, but the good kind of crazy. Made me play my theramin while listening to Stanley Turrentine. Theramin and TURRENTINE? Is she NUTS?
Thank goodness for headphones or I am certain I would be forever evicted from my little family's affections.
More on that Moacha soon!