Grown in Connection
From Winter Solstice 2023 Letter
This Old Tree Lapsang is subtle, accessible, and inviting. The energy is so welcoming. It welcomes graciously, in a way that can shift the feeling in a room, in a body, in a morning, or in a conversation. You could call it clarifying—like the sun shining in crisp winter air, and diffuse light reflecting brightly off the snow. Shadows have a hard time keeping put.
When I ask the Old Tree Lapsang for guidance going into deep winter, it reminds me softly of the friendliness of the season. It tells me of the sun’s return, of soft moments of care and connection that may be needed this time of year. The Old Trees from which this Lapsang is harvested are native tea plants growing in the Wuyi Nature Reserve. No one knows who planted them. They grow out of the long enmeshment of this place— sending their leaves as messengers of that connectivity for us to learn from and with, growing together.
Old Tree Lapsang is actually an all-season tea that offers different capacities at different times of year. It is on the lighter side of the winter spectrum, making it a nice pair with the darker Old Tree Shuixian. I’m glad to have it as a friend for the duration of the deep winter, and am eager for more elucidating conversations.
Asking For Guidance
Old Tree Lapsang is a perfect tea to sit with in the morning and ask, “What is needed today?” If you listen for a response, the guidance will likely be rooted in friendly connection.
Yesterday, sitting with Old Tree Lapsang, it illuminated my need for elemental connection, guiding me to visit both the forest and the coast, to smell the effusive sap under the canopy and to connect with the large black rocks that live by the water.
What’s in a Name
Lapsang is a very generic name, harkening back to the first red tea ever made. Lapsang means "pine smoke," though this tea, as you will taste, was not smoked with pine wood at all.
Old Tree Lapsang Tea Inquiry
from August 2022 Tea Letter, with expanded explanation in italics
“Each day I turn to my tea for answers. The leaves unfold. Water soaks. Heat permeates. Clay holds. Steam dissolves into everything. I slow down and tune in; I move forward at a relaxed pace—one that I don’t set, but rather I follow the tempo of the tea. Answers reveal themselves in the tempo. Spontaneous movements that only exist in between stop and go gently arise in the soft steam, the fragrance of the swamp, and the stability of the living earth.”
Each day I turn to my tea for answers.
If you have a question, you can ask your tea.
The leaves unfold. Water soaks. Heat permeates. Clay holds. Steam dissolves into everything.
First, gather yourself here. Tune in to the presence of tea. As the leaves unfold and soak in the water, so do you soak in the saturation of awareness in this moment. As you hold your clay teacup, your teacup holds you. Your hands are permeated by the heat of the cup, a sense of gathering. Gathering awareness, and whoever you invite to the fragrant hearth. Steam dissolves into the space around and your awareness mixes with the environment.
I slow down and tune in; I move forward at a relaxed pace—one that I don’t set, but rather I follow the tempo of the tea. Answers reveal themselves in the tempo.
Drinking tea has its own pace. You can fall into this tempo simply by enjoying gongfu cha. Reflection and contemplation benefit from this kind of pacing—a relationship with something outside, in order to move along naturally, like taking a stroll.
Spontaneous movements that only exist in between stop and go gently arise in the soft steam, the fragrance of the swamp, and the stability of the living earth.
Beyond striving and not striving, the tea is familiar. Like walking a path, you steep through the aromas and tastes and see what is revealed to your heart. When you mix your heart into the steeping pot with the tea, alchemy can occur.
Cave of Wonders: Old Tree Lapsang Steeping Instructions
Also from from August 2022 Tea Letter
You can trust these leaves. When you are getting ready to pour Old Tree Lapsang, show your trust by waiting a little longer. Push gently against time, or against the thickening air that lies between you and the teapot. When you feel it pushing back, pour your tea. A lengthened steep says “open sesame” to reveal the cave of wonders.
Old Tree Lapsang’s energy is vaster with each steep. You may even have the pleasure of finding a trap door. Where did the floor go? You drop down to the belly. Luckily there’s a magic carpet. The flavors are countless rubies and emeralds shimmering along the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Sweetness lingers around every corner.
This is what people mean when they say that a tea is bigger on the inside. You may find unexpected freedom next to the hearth on a rainy afternoon—the spaciousness only increased by being confined under a blanket.
With each confinement the space multiplies, and by the time you are by the hearth gazing into your teapot and taking a first sip of tea, you find that you’re stepping into a triple-decker rabbit hole.