The appreciation of strong aged tea — particularly Pu Erh — is often called ‘old man tea’ in China. This is somewhat akin to the way cammomile with milk is often associated with grandmothers in western consciousness. Youth often resists this practice, as it would an anchor, pulling them into the oblivion of rocking chairs and endless hours of staring out of windows.

There is the added element that only retired people, perhaps, have the luxury to sit around and zone out over the intense dark brew that emerges from the small yi xing tea pots used in kung fu tea brewing. That I can agree with to an extent, having had to structure my life somewhat around these tea-trips or “zone out” sessions — as my teacher in Taiwan called them. I have spent more hours that I can count meditating over fine tea — staring at tea pots; seeking the secrets held tightly (or loosely) in the pores of their clay.

The process of traditional Chinese tea appears rather odd to the outsider — to the uninitiated. It is a process whereby we willingly disconnect from the world outside, if only for a moment. It is one of taking a step back to dream, laughing at the world — unplugging from the collective impulse toward the newer, faster, cuter, and to look within.

My grandmother achieves a certain about her at 88, as she drinks her RR and milk. Though her eyes light up a little brighter, and the room stills just a little bit more, when I make her Pu Erh. She forgets for a few minutes the indignities of age and returns, in mind, to the person she always was — though now perhaps recognizes a little less when she looks in a mirror.

Is steeping away the afternoon a waste of time? Perhaps. One that wakes us up to the fact that so much time has already been wasted, and that we have the choice where life goes from here.

Tea is how I start my day, call it meditation, call it zoning out. It is ‘the sharpening of the saw’, whereby one can cut to ribbons all of our limiting beliefs (self-imposed or otherwise).

I am an old man while making tea. Transformed into a lion, when it comes time to go about my other business.