- Vol. 08
- Chapter 10
Wasps in the wall
There are wasps in the wall. I hear their angry buzzing behind the power socket. I am never angry, which is why you chose me; also for what you call my wasp waist; and because my eyes are lowered at all times.
I have not told you about the wasps. They increase in number and volume every day. You do not hear them. I hear them all the time.
I sense your approach. I continue to read my meditation book, silently practising its guiding imagery.
Now you are in the room.
The day is darkening. I ask you to plug in the lamp for me. The wasps emerge in a swarm, descend on you, and you fall to the floor.
It is the hour for tea. I move calmly and slowly to perform the ceremony. I measure out the tea with the scoop, hear the rhythmic scratch of the bamboo tea whisk as the hot water is mixed in. The whisks do not last long. They become worn and damaged with use, as do many things.
I carry your tea bowl carefully, place it beside you on the floor. The day dwindles into darkness.
Seated in my chair, I rejoice in the peace and harmony that the tea ceremony has instilled in my heart.