Chado literally means
the "way of tea." Cha is tea and do is Way. Way or path
are the closest English words for the Chinese character Tao, in
Japanese pronounced “doe”. Tao is impossible to define as it
completely escapes and is beyond all words and conceptual thinking
yet nothing could possibly be separate from it.
Lao Tzu, the author of the Tao Te Ching, once said,
"Those who say do not know and those who know do not say."
So that makes it lots of fun to talk about. When we see some of the
Asian arts with the "do" after them this indicates that
they have been perceived to be a viable "way" or
"path" of deeper experiencing of the Tao;
self-realization. There is the way of archery called kyudo, the way
of calligraphy called shodo, aikido, kendo, etc. Some study chado as
an elegant pastime, a cultural curiosity or to get in touch with
one’s roots whether one is Japanese, Jesuit, Buddhist, etc. but
its original design is that of a spiritual discipline.
Tea made its way to
Japan by way of monks traveling between
Japan
and
China
and was introduced first as a medicine and meditation aid in the
Buddhist monasteries and later spread to their wealthy patrons as an
exotic pastime. Tea as a "way" was first orchestrated through the
efforts of Murata Shuko (1422-1502) and his Zen teacher Ikkyu
(1394-1481). Later Takeno Jo-o (1502-1555) and his disciple Sen
Rikyu (1522-1591) brought tea out of
the laps of luxury and into
huts of simplicity.
Small thatched huts
made of simple and honest materials became the favored abode of tea
rather than the lavish residences of the aristocracy. The utensils
used for tea, up to this time, were primarily costly Chinese imports
which made the practice of tea prohibitive and class restricted.
Raku wares were born and simple folk crafts or found objects
suitable to the task were used. Sen Rikyu created
new designs for most everything associated with tea; Rikyu's contributions to chado are immense. Sen Rikyu
referred to tea practice as chanoyu, "hot water for tea,"
which seems to capture the austere flavor of suchness found in much
of zen thought and poetry. This
flavor or newly discovered beauty came from the continuous discovery
of simple beauty and the awareness of the transitory nature of all
things.
"Chanoyu of the small room is
above all a matter of practicing and realizing the way in accord
with Buddha's teaching. To delight in the splendor of a dwelling or
the taste of a sumptuous meal belongs to worldly life. There is
shelter enough when the roof does not leak, and food, when it keeps
one from starving. This is the Buddha's teaching and the fundamental
intent of chanoyu. The practitioner brings water, gathers firewood,
and boils water. Making tea, he offers it to the Buddha, serves it
to others, and drinks himself. He arranges flowers and burns
incense. In all of this, he takes for model the acts of the Buddhas
and patriarchs. Beyond this, you must come to your own
understanding."
- Sen Rikyu
Each of the many
methods of preparing tea, depending on the occasion, season or place
in which the tea is to be prepared are called temae. Temae means “that which lies before you.” So, every step in this process is
that which lies before you and in each of these steps we bring our
full effort and attention. There is nothing hidden or cut short.
This can be overwhelming at first and often intimidating for many
people. Some tell me they just don’t see the point in going
through so much trouble. Most people are in too much of a hurry and
rush their lives away not paying attention, wishing to escape rather
than be engaged with life. This is not living. It is only surviving
at best.
Rikyu had said that
there are four virtues to the study and practice of chanoyu. They
are harmony, respect/reverence, purity and tranquility. He taught
that when its cold use things which make us feel warm and when its
hot choose items that suggest coolness. Worldly issues like politics
and money stay outside of the tea environment because these things
tend to bring up strong emotions and cause discord.
Harmony is sitting in the arbor with the other guests in
silence, the subtle blush color of the chawan against the dark brown
iron
kettle
and the tortoise shell pattern in her obi. The host hangs a spring
bokuseki (scroll), the guests open like blossoms. A fuzzy moth on the wall
has joined us for tea. Harmony is the sound of the wind in the
pines, hushed, temporarily, by a small waterfall from a bamboo
ladle.
Zabosai, the current head of
the Sen family has said that there is not enough space between
things. There are so many more people in the world and we are forced
to live and work in smaller and smaller spaces. The language we use
has become appauling and decorum has become something to poke fun
at. The procedures and etiquette we use in the tearoom are there to
give space and respect to each other and to that which we can’t
understand yet nurtures us. Reverence is respect and deep gratitude.
Restrained and mindful she sets her shoes by the door. So quietly,
each comes inside, sensu before the alcove, the glowing coals; sensu
before the silk knot and covered well.
Bowing. Respect comes when we can truly respect ourselves and
this comes about when we see that we are not separate from other
living or inanimate things; we see that we share the same nature
with everything.
Purity might begin as
cleaning the teahouse but is beyond practice and realization. Is the
universe dirty or clean? The moist bamboo ladle in the garden, the
dew on the leaves, straw sandals, one glossy stone then
another. We gaze at the
four directions. Folding the fukusa my heart seems lighter. A crisp
and white chakin rests curled on the lacquer lid.
Walking to the gate, the day fading. As we learn tea we
purify ourselves of our self-centered ideas and when we make tea
[for others] all ideas of self falls away.
Tranquility. Spring
does not come before the other three seasons. The horse lowers her
lovely head and drinks from the flowing stream. Now she knows for
herself whether the water is cool or warm. Intimate. Dwelling
nowhere, mind comes forth.
These virtues are not
symbolic. Things are as they are. Nothing is obscured or hidden.
A quiet mind will see, an open heart will taste.
