Up your game

Seeing blue sky can help up your game

When I was in my corporate life, I met with a development coach. I complained to him that I didn’t think that the job I was doing was making much of a difference in the world. He asked me if that was what I wanted to do, make a difference in the world. Of course, I said. His reply to me was to go make a difference in the world. In other words, he told me to up my game.

Play on a bigger stage

My coach told me that if I wanted to play on a bigger stage, I could go play on a bigger stage. How? How do I change what I do now to what I want to do? He gave me some advice on how to change the circumstances of my life, but warned me that it would not be easy. Not only had I become complacent with my life, but everyone surrounding me had become complacent too. People who were used to me doing one thing would resist the change. They would try to keep me from changing because it meant that they would have to change, too, if only to change the expectations of what I was and what I wanted to do.

The most fundamental thing about this life change for me was to decide what it is I wanted to do. Make a difference in the world is a pretty broad scope to work with. The more specific I could get, the more successful I could become. This definition of what it was had to be powerful and resonate so much that I would be able to overcome not only my own resistance, but the resistance of other people around me.

Find what resonates

I decided that what I wanted to do was teach Chado. I had been studying with my sensei for a couple of years at that time, but it was something that did resonate with me. Of course, there were many obstacles to overcome from convincing my sensei that I was serious (I was not a particularly serious student at the time), to convincing and getting my husband to support my dream. There was also the obstacle that I barely knew anything about what it meant to teach Chado.

The fact is, we do have choices, but there are trade offs. We can up our game and change our circumstances, but it requires sacrifices and may not manifest instantaneously. Hard work, persistence and ongoing negotiation with the people in our lives are required. The advice my coach gave me was to hold the vision. He also said to do one thing that moves you closer to it, and one thing that nurtures the vision every day.

The dream doesn’t materialize instantaneously

This dream of mine did not manifest within the year. In fact, it took more than 15 years. In the meantime, I became a regular student with my sensei who became much more strict with my training. Even though I was intensely focused on learning, I still didn’t know enough to be able to teach. I had changed jobs several times (not voluntarily) and started a business. I did not give up my day job until sensei thought I was ready to apply to Midorikai.

Taking a year off of work and leaving my husband and family for a year took a very long time to negotiate and convince everyone around me. I wanted to do it in a way that people would support me. If they didn’t understand why I had to do it, at least they would know that it was very important for me to live in Japan for a year and study Chado.

The dream seems farther away

After Midorikai, I thought I was farther than ever from becoming a teacher because I had found out in my year in Japan just how little I knew about the way of tea. I also had to get a job because of depleted savings and other people were depending on my income. But I continued to study and go to lessons every week. I became immersed in the local tea community and studied on my own nearly every day.

I spent another seven years working and training in tea before I started my own place to study and began teaching. It did not happen overnight, and there were many times I felt discouraged and wanted to change direction. I had to plan and negotiate reduced income with my family. In many ways, it felt like would be easier to give up and just do what I had always done, go to tea lessons once a week, go to work and earn money in an unfulfilling job.

But hard work, negotiation and never letting go of the vision helped to achieve what I once thought was impossible. Now, I am a teacher of Chado. I have upped my game and I do feel fulfillment in what I am doing. And yes, in my own little corner, I feel like I am making a difference in the world.

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This glamorous and beautiful tea life

I am reminded almost daily, that not everything associated with Chado is glamorous or beautiful. The other day I was sifting damp ash for the ro and making a mess of it. While making damp ash occurs in heat of summer, by the time November comes around, my ash has dried somewhat and clumped together. I was trying to rehydrate the ash and sift it so that it becomes the lovely, soft, fluffy ash used in the ro for sumi demae.

My husband came out and asked me what I was doing. When I told him, he said that it was not pretty and it is a good thing guests can’t see me doing it. After I finished with the ash, I cleaned up and started to prepare for class. That meant washing all the tea utensils, cleaning the upstairs bathroom, vacuuming the carpet and zokining the tatami, making sweets and many other things.

“Sensei says, “Eighty percent of tea is cleaning.”

In fact, just about everyday (even when I am not teaching class), I zokin the tatami and clean the tea room. I clean the mizuya, as well as have my students clean the mizuya. All this cleaning and preparation is not what the guests see in the tea room.

Guests don’t see me peeling beans or stirring a pot of bean paste for hours, before I make sweets for tea. They did not see me out this summer washing the ash in a bucket and spreading it out to dry, breaking up lumps in my hands before sifting it several times before storing for the ro season.

“修行 Shugyo, for important, yet dirty, tedious, and unglamorous tasks that need to be done, not just in tea, but in everyday life, too.” ~Bruce Hamana Sensei

I put housework and pulling weeds in the yard in the category of shugyo, as well as cleaning toilets, ironing, laundry, and the millions of other necessary everyday tasks that need to be done.

And yet, there is satisfaction in the doing of these tasks. Preparations in the tea room and mizuya means that there will be tea later in the room. Even if there is no tea later, having a clean tea room and mizuya means I won’t have to clean it up later. I am happy when I get up in the morning to come to a clean kitchen because I washed the dirty dishes and scrubbed the pots and pans before I went to bed.

My granddaughters are in the school musical and they had their opening in night last week. They put in hours and hours of rehearsal, built sets, worked the lighting, made the costumes. We did not see their shugyo, but the performance was a magical thing to behold and took us out of our lives for a couple of hours.

Shugyo also means sacrifice and things that take time. Driving across town in rush hour traffic to get to tea lessons, I consider shugyo. It is always tedious and frustrating, yet I am always glad that I made the effort to attend lessons. Not going out with friends and saving money for tea lessons was also worthwhile to me. Working two jobs to earn money for my first trip to Japan was shugyo as it was a transformative experience for me.

Everyday there are tasks and things we don’t like to do, yet are necessary. It makes it easier if we choose to do them and use them for fuel to transform our lives.

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The support that lifts me up

I would like to take this opportunity to give a shout out to my biggest supporter, my husband Mr. Sweetpersimmon, (AKA Craig) This is for all the unsung ways that he has allowed, supported and assisted me to pursue my passion of Chado.

I suppose he might be like other tea widowers who do the myriad of tasks to assist me to do what I do. From helping to load and unload the car before and after demonstrations to adjusting my obi before I go off to an event. He is always there to wash dishes, peel beans for sweets and drive me to and from events. He also stays at home to take care of things as I go jet off to yet another tea anniversary event or trip to Japan.

He has put the kettle on when I am late preparing for class, and helped me clean up afterwards. Three times a week he gives up our house and parks himself in the den with headphones on so as not to disturb my classes. On class evenings, he is considerate enough not to cook dinner with onions and garlic so the house doesn’t smell before and during class.

Beyond that, he never quibbles when I tell him I need a new utensil, nor how much it costs. He never complains about all those lonely weekends when I am involved with tea demonstrations, kagetsu classes, koshukai and tea events. He doesn’t even complain when I travel to tea events alone, even though he would like to travel with me to new cities and places because he knows that I won’t be sightseeing with him, but networking and drinking tea the whole time.

Recently, on our vacation to Canada, he asked me, don’t you have a tea friend in Ottawa? Would you like to spend a few days to visit with her? While he knew that probably he would end up reading as my friend and I would spend hours and hours talking and doing tea things.

This man understands my passion and is not jealous of how much time, effort and attention it takes to pursue it. Before we were married, he took two years of Chado study so he could understand what it was. He learned about the Chado aesthetic, so he could give me gifts that make me swoon (my very first chaire and a complete chabako set, to name a few).

Because he is a woodworker, he trained and applied himself to build things for me: A portable ryurei table set that folds up into two cardboard boxes and takes 10 minutes to set up and tear down, a unique tana with hidden compartments, a paulownia chabako that he had my calligraphy teacher write poems of the 4 seasons on it, and a furosaki byobu with unique “rain foot” decorations on it. He has also given up the linen closet and built extra shelves on both sides so I could cram more utensils into it.

He is also interested in the process, the preparation, and the practice of tea. He will remind me to write a thank you note after a chakai, or if it is time to buy more beans to make bean paste. He will do the laundry 2-3 times a week for mizuya towels and help me hang them to dry. He will take messages from students and teachers and check to make sure I have seen them. And he often asks me if I have written a blog for the site. “Your fans need to hear from you,” he says.

And in the most recent act of love and support, he spent more than 2 years, designing and building a beautiful tea room for me. It had such thoughtful features as easily accessible storage under the floor, mood lighting for the tea room and more storage in the cleverly designed closet. As one guest put it, “It is a love letter to Margie.

For everything you have done and do to support this passion that makes me whole, a heartfelt thank you.

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Friends traveling far

Sowing the moon tea house, Green Gulch Zen Center

I just completed the week long seminar, Zen and Tea at Green Gulch Zen Center in California. The setting is serene and beautiful.  Walking to Muir Beach is something that just feeds the soul.  Waking the sound of birds and sitting zazen in the morning felt cleansing and empowering.

Thank you to all the sensei, Christy Bartlett, Alexandre Avdulov, Meiya Wender and Jessica Rosenberg for their dedication to the way of tea, for their generous teaching and willingness to share what they learned with all of us who attended.  And to all the attendees of the seminar, thank you for your support and help. Even though your legs were hurting during class, you offered encouragement and support.

 

One of the activities of the week was a chashaku carving workshop. Meiya-sensei had collected some truly wonderful pieces of bamboo the last time she was in Japan.  She spent the time before we arrived to measure, cut and split the bamboo. And she worked to thin the pieces and bend the curve of the chashaku by heating it and shaping it. All we had to do was take the blank, whittle it down to size, shape it, and smooth the final piece.

Even though I have had some experience carving chashaku, every piece is different. It has different grain, splits differently, and a personality of its own.  Sometimes you have to just go with where the bamboo leads you rather than try to fight it with ideas of your own.

After the workshop, I had the privilege to be asked to collaborate on a special chashaku by Janet Ikeda.  I had had met her before, but I had not seen her in more than 10 years. She wanted a chashaku to use for the Parents Family Weekend chakai where she teaches at Washington and Lee University.

She began the project by carving the sides down to the final width at the workshop.  After the seminar, I took it home and did the final shaping, and smoothing the back with sandpaper.

Then we had to name it. We came up with

“Tomo ari” (Friends of a like mind)

This phrase comes from an opening passage of the Confucian Analects. The chashaku name comes from the second phrase. First he said, “studying and practicing what you learned, is this not a wonderful thing?” Second, “when friends who share the same mind travel a long distance to visit, is this not a joyful thing?” The last part of the master’s words, “Even when I remain undisturbed if people do not recognize or notice me, is this not a sign of virtue?”

有朋自遠方来 不亦楽乎

tomo arite enpoo kara kitaru

mata tanoshikarazuya

I like that we met at Green Gulch to practice and study tea together. It is also a chashaku to be used at the University where people practice and study. And it is also true that friends of like mind who travel a long distance to visit is apt since many people traveled a long way to Green Gulch and spent a lot of our free time visiting and catching up with each other. And the third part, remaining undisturbed if people do not recognize or notice me, is very much a virtue in tea.

The bamboo tsutsu (case) was given to me more than 10 years ago by my very good friend Taikyo Nakamura who passed on 3 years ago.  I was saving it for something special.  It is my attempt to calligraphy the name and the makers on it. Janet is going to use it for the chakai coming up in October for the Parents and Family weekend at Washington and Lee University and now she has a wonderful story that the students can tell at the chakai.

 

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It is harder than it looks

I have posted some photos of the kintsugi projects that I have recently completed and it has gotten a lot of interest. Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repair of ceramic objects with gold lacquer. Like anything Japanese, it looks easy, but really it is harder and takes longer than people expect. Unfortunately, you cannot learn kintsugi in an afternoon workshop, just as you cannot learn chado in one easy lesson. Or learn a language, play a musical instrument, or get in shape.

I have been attempting to practice this art for many years. Since I have no teacher, I am self-taught and am taking the long way. At first I was obsessed with it and collected as many photographs as I could get. I also went on YouTube to view all the videos I could, read some very academic papers and museum conservation treatises.

Then I purchased a kit online and tried it. It had a cheap epoxy based glue with a pearlized type of gold powder that you mixed with the glue and stuck the pieces together. The result was less than I wanted. The gold looked fake, and the epoxy was not food safe and left a large ridge where the pieces were stuck together.

Next I tried a synthetic lacquer kit with some gold colored metallic powder. The synthetic lacquer did not have to cure, only dry and could be handled within 24-48 hours. It looked better, but my technique was sloppy and still did not look very good. It was less toxic than traditional lacquer, but the metallic powder was not food safe.

 

One of my first attempts. Shaky and uneven
Repaired by Taikyo with super glue, gold added by me
Glaze flaked off and chips missing

I ordered a cashew lacquer from Japan, (very hard to find) that was supposed to be more authentic, but yipes, I am deathly allergic to cashews (I mean epipen and emergency here) so I could not use this material even though I used gloves and long sleeves and was very careful not get it on my skin.

I was able to convince someone from Japan to send me some authentic urushi lacquer that is traditionally used in kintsugi, and some 22kt gold powder. Boy that is expensive! (1 gram approx. $200).  Urushi has to cure in a warm, humid environment, so I built a humidity box. However, working with urushi is highly toxic. When fully cured, 22 karat gold urushi is food safe. I used instructions found on the internet and YouTube. So for more than 8 years, I have been practicing my technique. Even though I have sent photos to the craftsman,  I have never heard back from him.

My basic techniques are:
1. Fitting the broken pieces back together again. You have to look at each project to see how it fits together, what pieces are missing, where you have holes, and what order you are going to re-assemble the pieces.
2. Mixing a lacquer “glue,” usually with something like flour to make it sticky and hold together. It mustn’t be too thick or you get gaps between the pieces nor too thin or they won’t hold together.
3. Gluing the pieces together. Sometimes you can only do one side, let that cure and then assemble the other side. Sometimes you need to build forms to hold the piece while it is curing, sometimes you can use tape to temporarily hold it, sometimes rubber bands. Then it goes into the box to cure.
4. Filling gaps. Next you mix lacquer with something called tonoko. Basically it is powdered ceramic. This is what you use fill gaps and make make up for missing pieces. It then goes into the box to cure. Then you have to clean up the mixture where is has over filled or where you don’t want it, using a combination of sand paper and water. Be careful here or you may scratch the glaze. This process may take 2, 3 or more layers as you build up missing pieces or deep cracks. Each time it goes into the box to cure and then clean up.
5. Because the tonoko mixture is porous, I paint lacquer over the repairs I have made. Sometimes it takes 2, 3, or more layers to completely cover up the repair. Each time, it goes into the box to cure, and then clean up.
6. Finally when the seams are completely filled and lacquered over and cleaned up, you can paint over the repairs with lacquer and dust it with the powder. Then into box to cure. Then final washing away of the powder. Because the gold is so expensive, I try to be sparing in using it. When I wash the powder away, I try to save as much as I can.

So here is a project I have been working on for more than a year.  I received some tea cups from Japan, but they were not packed very well and they arrived broken. I used these cups to refine my techniques. This is how they arrived:

This was the worst one
The other four were similar
This looks exactly like the last one

Intermediate stage where I was filling gaps left by pieces too small to glue, basically dust.

Finally gold added:

So yes, it is not a simple or easy process. You need a steady hand, patience to wait while it is curing, and be careful and meticulous about safety throughout. Get a good brush, it is painstaking detail work. Urushi is highly toxic. It causes rashes like poison ivy. I always use long sleeves, gloves, a respirator, work in a well ventilated area, and keep my workspace exceptionally clean. Still, I did get rashes and it seems like the more I do it, the more reaction I get. So I am not sure how long I can do it.

Finally, here is a piece done professionally.  Click on the photos to see the detail.  One day I hope I can get to this level.

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