Learning about tea
For the past couple weeks I’ve been taking a Tea Foundations course through a college in Toronto; I figured that at the very least, I’d learn a little bit more about a hobby I really enjoy. In those weeks I’ve been exposed to a lot more information than I’d been able to find and curate for myself previously, and I think that’s the value of taking a bit more of an organized look at things.
I kind of missed being in a classroom; I’ve been out of school for four years now, and there was kind of this peace that comes with being in there. I feel focused during the couple hours a week that the course takes, and ironically I’ve been able to get more out-of-course writing done during the class (usually when there’s a bit of a lull) than I do when I’ve tried to get it done at home.
The thing that I think allows a lot of writers and entrepreneurs the ability to get so much “side hustle” work done while they’re working on a degree is the reduction of fear that comes with it. No matter what happens, or how well their freelancing or startup goes, they’re at least working towards something in the meantime that will mean the time won’t be totally wasted.
Contrasting this with post-graduation, I found that it was really easy to look at the expansion of free time as intimidating; suddenly, I have to make the time worth it. More anxiety and overthinking creep in, and even writing I’m supposed to be doing for fun or as a hobby turns into a chore. Too many distractions, both internal and external.
The reason I like tea is that it forces me into a process. You have to boil the water, weigh the tea, steep it with a specific timing and temperature, wait for it to cool, and then enjoy it. Rushing any of those parts will compromise the overall quality of the finished product, and especially as my ability to restock my collection is limited these days, every cup of “the good stuff” I have has to be stretched as far as it can go. There is only so many times I can photograph or write about the same teas.
It creates an urgency, but at the same time, that urgency is limited by the overall calmness of the process. There’s no rushing, and because there’s no rushing, things come out fine.
And maybe that in itself is something that needs to be applied elsewhere.
I’d like to start doing more writing in general, as I think I’ve fallen off the wagon because of anxiety and fear. There hasn’t been a writer’s block, per say, but more just an aversion to having it be my a huge part of my life again.
I’ve started writing under a pseudonym for a couple of small projects that are nowhere close to journalism, and I’ve found the rush return when I publish something — however, again, it isn’t totally healthy. I’m clicking refresh buttons to check for comments, hits, notes and reblogs. When I get a response it’s a complete rush. Seeing a stagnation of a new piece urges me to write more, because this time maybe people will like it more.
And that’s not a good thing. I should know that.
A focus on tea is supposed to be a step back for me in the sense I’m allowing myself the room to learn balance. Still, I feel compelled to “turn it into something,” because people ask me about it and I find myself rifling through all these things I’ve learned that don’t necessarily enrich me, but things I appreciate.
At its core they are trivia; I don’t know how to frame them in any kind of structure that would seem informative or interesting to people. To me, it’s just something I like, and find momentary peace in — it’s difficult to put that into words on a regular basis.
The people I admire most are the ones who seem to be able to create consistently without hesitance or a fear of consequence. They are able to cast themselves into something wholly, and they usually produce great things because of that.
I’m still working on feeling confident enough to put my words to feelings or thoughts again, mostly because I’m wrestling with the nerves that come with knowing how much there is I still need to learn. I feel scared speaking due to that lack of knowledge, mostly due to the prospect of making mistakes that come with the lack of experience, but cannot be fixed without significant time or investment — investment I’m not sure my passion or interest extends enough over to tackle.
All just dumb shit, in the end. All just things that I should kick out of my brain as wastes of times and limiters of potential. But they live there. And the minute I relax from trying to fight them out, they return in full force. And that sucks. It sucks a lot.
And yet, despite a momentary lack of drive and the passion, we still keep pushing.
Follow Matt on Twitter.
