Reading Tea (An Aside)

Got home from work, let the dogs out, ate a bowl of curried tofu and brown rice, checked the email. Now, I'm in front of the computer, safe from that gray and drizzly outside world, with a nice, hot cup of tea.

Yogi Tea, to be specific. Yogi Tea's "Throat Comfort" tea to be more specific still (made with slippery elm bark, mmmm).

I've taken, over the past couple of years, to drinking more and more herbal and organic tea. Now, it's sort of become a part of the daily routine. I was a tea-mocking coffee enthusiast for many years, so I understand any derision you might want to express. Still, I'm a believer. I get less colds, feel better, and actually like the taste.

And there's a bonus. Each bag has its own little "fortune." The tag on this bag, for instance, says "Man is as vast as he acts." Which is not, for me, particularly inspiring. But I appreciate the effort.

Yogi Tea isn't the only brand to offer bits of wisdom with each and every bag. It seems to be something of a trend.

The other night, for instance, I was at a potluck.

Not just a potluck. A potluck/general meeting. Much wonderful food was assembled in a smallish meeting house... vegan chili, tofu enchiladas, brown rice with tofu, vegan glazed apples. The after-dinner agenda was the viewing (and subsequent discussion) of an excellent documentary on Cuba's response to their artificially-imposed "peak oil" experience in the early '90s (when 80% of their supply disappeared with the fall of the Soviet Union). I was quite revved up to have a good dinner and then discuss ways to make the world a much better place (or at least, being the shy one of the group, hear what others had to say).

I filled my plate with food, picked out a good spot at the table, and then stepped into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I opened the bag-- not Yogi Tea-- and read the message. It was a little quote from Alfred Adler, I believe. It went like this:

"It is always easier to fight for one's principles than to live up to them."

Ahh, I thought. Profound, but, really, I already know this stuff.

I went back to the table, sat down to eat.

And then the homeless arrived.

A big group of them.

And maybe not all homeless. I'm generalizing and making assumptions here. Some, clearly, were very much street people. At least one mentioned having internet access at her apartment. Mostly homeless. And from what I could tell, mostly (likely all) mentally ill. And not mentally ill like depression is a mental illness (which it very much is), but beyond that, bigger stuff, stuff that often illicits the "there but for the grace of" line from people (though I think I've always sort of prefered the more accurate, interconnected "there go I").

The story, from what I picked up, was this. One of the guys (I think there were nine unexpected guests in all in this bunch) was released earlier in the day from the hospital. His friends had decided to celebrate his return to free society, and they had decided to all get together for a normal night. They found advertisements for a free concert, went downtown, and discovered that they'd gotten the times wrong. Then, from what I could tell, they saw a flyer for our little potluck (potluck/general meeting).

And so there we were, our numbers roughly doubled by the new arrivals. There was, of course, plenty of food to go around; there were just fewer leftovers than usual (roughly none). The new crew loaded their plates high, went back for seconds. If they found the unusual cuisine distasteful, they certainly didn't show it (big bearded guy in the racoon-skin cap: "what's in this, beef?" me: "no, those are tofu enchiladas... they're vegan" big bearded guy: "huh?" me: "tofu enchiladas... they don't have any meat" big bearded guy: "are they Mexican?" me: "yeah" big bearded guy: "hell yes, I love Mexican").

And it seems like too likely a coincidence. It seems like I inserted that tea bag quote into the story to make a point. But I didn't. That was my little fortune for the day.

"It is always easier to fight for one's principles than to live up to them."

I found myself, throughout the meal and throughout the viewing and discussion that followed, conflicted.

Because, really, I hadn't planned to hang out with loud, hungry, homeless folks that night.

I was there for good, healthy food. For sophisticated discussion. I was there to learn new ways to save the planet, to make this world a better place, to build community, enrich people's lives. To drink tea.

And here were these people. They didn't smell particularly good. They were eating the last of my enchiladas, which meant I'd have no leftovers for the next day's lunch.

"They're ruffling up the literature table," I thought as they scooped up all the free pamphlets and brochures they could find.

"How are they possibly going to contribute to a sophisticated discussion of energy crises?" I thought.

"How many times does that dude have to get up and go out for a cigarette?" I thought as, once again, a chair was moved, a bag was ruffled through, and a door was opened and closed during one of the documentary's really good parts.

"That last comment had nothing at all to do with community building, I wish she would just hush for a moment so one of my profound associates here can talk," I thought.

"Do they understand any of this at all?" I asked myself, feeling important and put upon.

That last, of course, was before one of the guests talked at length about his years of involvement with organic farming and alternative approaches to mental health therapy and community building (I didn't catch all of what he was saying, and some of what I heard wasn't terribly appealing to me, but at the very least my assumption of ignorance and air of superiority were pretty much shot to shit).

Throughout the night, that tea bag had me conflicted. Because I couldn't deny the fact that this wasn't how I wanted my evening to go. And I couldn't deny the fact that those feelings were selfish, that, on some level at least, I was showing an eagerness to fight for ideals that I wasn't so willing to live.

In the few days since then, I've been more and more glad for that little experience. For what it revealed.

And I'll try to take each and every bit of tea bag wisdom seriously, even when I'm sure it's a no-brainer, even when it's stuff I already know.

Even when it's "Man is as vast as he acts."