On a cool autumn night in Kyoto, I sit on a bench outside a traditional tea house, with a dozen other guests. A young woman dressed in traditional kimono opens the sliding door and welcomes us inside. Quietly she asks us to remove our shoes; I place mine on a timber rack with the others and follow her into a dimly lit and sparsely furnished room.
We are invited to kneel on soft tatami mats and form a circle around a small collection of pots and utensils including a furo (portable brazier), kama (kettle), cha-ire (tea caddy), chashaku (tea scoop), hishaku (ladle), chasen (bamboo tea whisk) and chakin (white linen napkin).
As I kneel I can see that the room is spotless: prior to our arrival the tatami mats have been cleaned thoroughly with a houki (palm broom) and doors and windows checked for any dirt or holes — hygiene is imperative.
The young woman then introduces an older woman also dressed in traditional kimono; she is the devotee, the teishu (host) who will prepare the tea. A hush falls over the room as the teishu bows, kneels and begins the 'movement'.
The tea ceremony was perfected centuries ago. In 15th Century Japan a young man named Murata Shukou, who was studying for the priesthood, began to practice Zen philosophy. His teacher explained that the spirit of Zen was also present in the practice of tea-making, so Shukou began a journey of discovery into making and serving tea.
He spent the rest of his life refining the ceremony and passing on his knowledge to anyone interested in learning the art of cha-no-yu.
Shukou believed that serving tea should be an intimate affair, a simple act practised in a tranquil atmosphere. And today, a tea ceremony provides just such an opportunity, where guests can relax over a cup of tea with their host. But on another level it is said that participants in a cha-no-yu can reach deep spiritual fulfilment through silent contemplation as they observe the ritual.
Tonight in Kyoto, the Teishu removes lids and pours, wipes and ladles; then she scoops, pours some more, and whisks; folding and refolding the chakin as her hands move delicately, almost melodically. There are almost 40 steps involved in this ancient ritual; time stops and I am mesmerised by the rhythm and the silence, as if I am separated from the world and nought exists save for the movement.
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