On tea

Feeling the love for my favourite drink of late.

(The Japanese poet Myoe the Dreamkeeper and I) have both written out of tea-consciousness, rather than a wine-consciousness, he his dream diaries, and I my memoirs, although I don't always call them that. Tea-consciousness is a refreshed reflection, rather than excitement or inebriation. It's not important whether you drink the finest pu erh say, or Lipton’s teabag tea, it’s a matter of the colouring of your consciousness.  Tea-consciousness draws its strength from the browns and greens deep inside you, wine-consciousness more from the outside from celebration, friendship and neighbourly feelings.  Drifting into tea-consciousness you cohere into something.  Drifting into wine-consciousness, you revel in incoherence and the thrill of flux.  Perhaps you need both - one-sidedness as Jung remarked, being the sign of the barbarian - but, being a Puritan at heart although not necessarily a Puritan, I mostly have only tea-consciousness. An archer drinks tea. 

From the delightful As I Was Saying by Robert Dessaix