The Temple of Sensitivity

Amir Mourad describes the art of drinking tea as a meditative process through a poem.

There is no anticipation But that is essential to this fountain of joy If there can be a name given to this forgotten temple Let us call it the Temple Of Sensitivity

The art of drinking tea is an aeon of teaching in itself Bringing to life all of the virtues from the soil of freedom When the drinking is infused with the spirit of meditation If there is any trace of suffering It is distilled in the clear waters of wakefulness

Just a passing scent reveals a whole story of the journey travelled, The lonely seed, its harvesting, the careful hands of its farmer, The strength of the sun radiating nourishment, The moon, the coolness of the evening wind, The stability of the roots anchored in the Earth And all of the subtle workings quietly hidden from view Which brought this gift to its ripening – I drink it all in a single cup

And when the Temple of Sensitivity floods the five senses All the secondary details disappear What to call this meeting? I’m Completely alone, but here is an ancient assembly of sages With differently coloured voices Declaring the same soundless mantra of truth Bringing it down to the essential The art of drinking tea is one and the same As the art of truthfulness

Nothing to seek Pure action follows pure action It all begins and ends with the emptiness of the cup