Kind Moon is a coaching and facilitation practice, led by Rob Douglas, with offerings including integration coaching, mindfulness practices, tea sessions, and beyond. Please book a free discovery call or reach out via the Kind Moon website to learn more.
If you could spend your days doing anything, what would you do? I would be so excited to know.1 I am inspired by people’s visions and imaginings; I revel in learning what ignites passion and lights a person up. Even if the exact details may not align with how we flow through our daily rhythms, I like to think that part of those dreamy ideas can spark acts of expression. And, in full vulnerability, I still hold to that part of me believing we can manifest the life of our truest desires—even when the world feels otherwise. For many years, one of my dreams has been to run a small, community tea house. A third place where we could slow down and allow for deepening connections. I would love to serve and hold space while helping to curate elements that invite feelings of safety and ease. Hosting regulars and welcoming new folks in search of a local haven. I have many thoughts around the ethos and offerings, the aesthetics (I am, perhaps, overly concerned with lighting and sound in life), and accessibility models. Creating opportunities for simple ritual and grounding down. And, at the heart of it all, there would be one of my favorite passions and sacred medicines: tea!
My journey with tea began roughly twenty years ago and, to this day, continues to bring richness to my life. I sit in tea sessions regularly and find some of my deepest conversations unfolding during those times. In my early years, tea had been held a pretty basic value: it was not coffee.2 I knew it through sweet teas of my childhood and bags of Lipton scattered along the way. The only other teas catching my interests were in my early adulthood travels to Nepal or Kenya, where dairy and sweeteners were heavy at play. Beyond, I occasionally drank cans of Arizona or got a little fancy with a glass bottled Honest Tea. Anything more elaborate than that ended at buying a box of Celestial Seasonings. I have no beef with my past corporate tea journey of bagged and flavored leaves; I acknowledge that I was consuming with little context or perspective. And then, I encountered two simple revelations while on a trip to San Francisco that started a long journey of learning through slow and steady sips.
The first lesson that introduced me to the potential of tea is no hidden secret; yet, I had somehow missed these basics during my first twenty plus years: time and temperature vary results. I was at the home of my cousin, up on the crest of a hill in Eureka Valley (maybe? I’m never quite sure where San Fran borders are or what sub-neighborhood I am in while there) and she offered me a bag of tea, after I declined coffee. Up to that day, I only knew one way to prepare tea: put a bag in a cup, heat up water on the stove, pour water into cup after boiling, start sipping once at a non-tongue-scalding level of heat (leaving the bag in to get the “most out of it”), and add sugar or honey if too bitter. As the kettle was warming, she asked me, “What temperature do you prefer?”
“I don’t know, don’t you just pour once boiling?”
“Well, you can. But I find it makes the tea bitter and burns away the flavor. So then, do you quick steep with water that hot?”
“Quick steep? I don’t know…”
With that simple conversation, I glimpsed a new level of conscious consuming in my tea drinking. How do I want to drink my tea? What are the variables I can control and influence to change my first sip? What could I observe when I give attention to preparation? Simple and enlightening aid from an unexpected teacher. All through a couple unassuming questions.
With tea on the mind, that same cousin encouraged me to visit a shop in Chinatown the next day, where I had my next lesson: leaves (profoundly) matter. The majority of teas I drank prior were either heavily processed for mass consumption or prepared from a nonspecific, commercial bag of tea. I had little experience drinking loose leaf and, when I did, I was removed from the preparation or any real awareness of the leaves. The jump from dubiously stored, bagged tea to a fresh, single origin, loose leaf tea covers a vast chasm. That day, I sat down for a tasting at a lovely tea shop and spent the next hour plus watching (and drinking) as tea was prepared from high quality, loose leaves. Stories where shared of the teas’ origins and processing. The steeping and pouring were offered with intention and care. And, I think that I truly tasted tea for the first time.
This was no conversion experience toward a deep love of tea or an immediate dive into a life practice. I left the tea shop that day without buying any leaves. I was intimidated by the preparation. I felt overwhelmed by the variations and uncertain how to begin. And, I felt a distance from what it was to hold ritual in that sort of way for a drink. Even still, my interest was piqued and I was on my way toward further explorations of tea and my shared practices with others. In that moment, I was just beginning to recognize what was behind the leaves and how a person could give right attention to them.
A pause to consider what I am talking about when I talk about tea. I know we colloquially use “tea” to refer to beverages made by infusing leaves and flowers in water. I have no intention of challenging that use; it is known and understood. Though, when I am talking about tea, I am talking about the formal definition found in different varieties of the Camellia sinensis plant. Green, white, oolong, black (or red), pu-erh and other niched categories all start from the same plant varied by origin, cultivar, harvesting, crafting (processing that involves such skills as guided oxidization, roasting, packing, even methods of fermentation), and age. Cultivar is an abbreviation of the phrase “cultivated variety,” with Camellia sinensis having two known distinct, natural varieties: 1) Camellia sinensis var. sinensis originally found in China (naturally occurring to survive cold winters and thrive in summer’s heat and humidity), 2) originating in India, Camellia sinensis var. assamica (evolved to withstand heat and intense sunlight year round). Out of these two natural varieties, agricultural influence helped to develop many hundreds or thousands of cultivars. These developments occurred for the benefit of growing in certain environments, to ease crafting, or to bring forth particular traits in the final resulting teas. Within that, a single cultivar can still have wide range of teas that find definition from its originating provenance, harvest date, and overall craftsmanship process. Larger types, such as oolong, hold within them many, many dozens of subtypes. And, much like the world of wine, a passionate tea drinker can get lost trying to gain expertise and keep clear definitions of every tea.
I would love to write about what I understand as the broad stroke impacts of origin, farming, processing, and beyond toward distinguishing quality teas from those otherwise. For now, I will share that observing such influences benefits from being able to experience leaves that are singular in origin, fresh (or otherwise intentionally aged), properly stored, and in a full leaf form (with exception to certain ground teas like matcha). The aforementioned jump from bagged tea to loose leaf further leads to yet another vast chasm between mass produced, store shelved leaves and well curated, quality ones. The approach given to making the majority of bagged or mass marketed loose leaf often involves mixing sources of origin, processing with chemical products, and little care of aging or environmental exposures. Once again, observed from my second early lesson in tea, the leaves matter immensely.
Beyond the leaves, as you may have guessed from lesson one, there is vast world awaiting in how one prepares and drinks tea. The primary variables are pretty straightforward: type and quantity of leaves, temperature and quantity of water, and steeping time. Like many passions and pursuits, the impact and influence of micro-variations can start to be a little obsessive (and perhaps absurd). These include elements such as environmental factors, tools and vessels (along with the preparation of vessels prior), type and quality of water, brewing style, iteration of steeps, and energetics beyond.3 Results may vary, appreciation even more so. Though, I can attest from my own experience that all of these factors from high level down to the micro-adjustments make significant differences. And, there are true masters of these elements across styles and practices of tea. Sharing a session with a person who can navigate preparing and serving skillfully is a magical experience, even for those who may feel uninitiated into the world of tea.
We’ll stop before getting lost in the wild ride of sourcing and trusted buyers. I will note that I intend to dedicate some future posts talking about my love of oolong and journeys with pu-erh. Instead for now, I want to share about the arrival of ritual into my tea life and how that continues to be explored and shared.
When I was in my late twenties, I took another significant step in my journey with the magical leaves. I was living in Charlottesville, Virginia, where we have a quirky restaurant meets bar meets tea shop, called Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar. One day, I sat down at their counter and ordered up a pot, while striking up a conversation with one of the talented tea slingers. As he was pulling out a big tin of whatever I ordered, he paused and asked with a mischievous smile, “Do you want to try something better?”
What came next was the informal beginning of my education in preparing and serving tea. I was invited to try some of his personal collection, pulled suspiciously out of a backpack. He had me hold and smell the unsteeped leaves, then offered them in a loosely demonstrated version gong fu cha style (see prior footnote). The experience presented a pathway that was informal, accessible, and fun. Yet, there was a sense of reverence both for the tea and the attention to our conversation. The intrigue that piqued years before in San Francisco found a way to be present in my home life in Virginia. I loved it so much that I asked if he would be willing to do something similar with a few friends. In the weeks to follow, I began hosting small group sessions at my home guided by my tea bartending friend. He taught me some of the basics and invited me to start pouring with him. I was hooked.
Over the years that followed, I traveled in search of tea experiences around the globe. I have tried incredible, unique, and well sourced teas (and some real dud bombs too). I have sat with different masters of their practices. And, I even ran a short-lived subscription tea company with a friend.4 My original teacher in Charlottesville provided me a solid foundation in feeling confident to offer my own version of the practice (and gifted me my favorite gaiwan). And, while living in Maui, I found another amazing teaching friend who expanded my knowledge on the history and distinctions of teas (as well as gifting me some of the tea vessels that I still use today). I am still a novice and my knowledge is limited. But, I found a passion that has brought me so much joy to explore and share.
What I love about tea arrives in two forms: 1) a conscious consuming of a natural plant that carries unique energies in every experience, 2) a grounding ritual that offers awareness and presence into deeper connection with others. There is no right way to drink tea (maybe wrong ways?). The ritual can travel with ease; it is accessible to anyone who is open to some caffeination in their life.5 When I sit with friends over tea, we go into a container that is intended to be slow, present, and exploratory. There is an invitation to give attention to sensations and experiences with each iteration of steeps or change in leaves. We consider things that the tea brings forth, like: energy, mouthfeel, heat in our bodies, color, aroma, and taste. But, even more than that, we set ourselves away from the busy noise of life to be together in conversation. Each session opens a new door for me. I love sharing this with new and old friends alike.
If you are in Richmond, Virginia, and would be interested in exploring together, let me know. I have set up my Calendly to include means to book tea sessions together with folks at my home (found here). I’m excited to sit with other’s practices as well. I love discovering new sources and favorite leaves, if you have suggestions. I hope to always be learning and continue to grow in my understanding and knowledge within these things. And, I am grateful to have chance to explore a passion through the simple act of being together with another person.
May we each find avenues to meet our passions in unique ways. May we each continue to grow in these paths with awareness and connection. May we all find our own cup of tea. I’ll raise one of mine to that.
Following the breadcrumbs…
Maybe these will excite some passions too. Read the leaves and see what you might find awaiting you.
VIDEO/PODCAST: Yasmine Idriss (on The Mo Show). Our dear friend, Yasmine, shares her beautiful perspectives and learnings through biking the Ring Road of Iceland (and her life beyond). So refreshing to see this thoughtful pivot away from focusing on performance endeavors into heart led explorations of self. Golden wisdom and engaging dialogue.
READING: Lilith's Brood series by Octavia Butler. Published in 1987, these science fiction stories still open the mind to new ideas around themes of sexuality, gender, race…AND species. They offer a fun and expansive journey. And, clearly as I am talking this up many years later, they stick with you.
TEA: Dong Ding Traditional (from Floating Leaves Tea). I love the approach of Shiuwen and her collections at Floating Leaves Tea. Molly and I have sat with her a couple times for tea sessions in person. She collects very accessible leaves to learn and grow with in one’s tea path. Dong Ding is a quintessential Taiwanese oolong to enjoy if curious. I could drink it every day.
Reminder to any and all: I welcome comments and/or longform email responses with open digital arms, if ever inspired to send along. I am still finding my direction and voice with this Substack adventure; but, I do hope at the heart of this exploration is a fostering of dialogue and community with you.
I used to disdain coffee, strongly. I’ve softened (a bit) now; though, I don’t care for the flavor. I still do not drink it but I do try to be open to any culinary experience with some level of curiosity and appreciation. As my loving wife often shares with people, my dislike of coffee is “probably the biggest struggle in our relationship” (which, we think is a pretty decent problem to have if that’s our low point…but I know a few coffee devotees out there who may disagree). Molly has tried hundreds of times to make a convert of me, inviting me into sips and tastes of cups across the world and throughout our home life. She has invited me into the joy of preparation and warming comforts of a first sip. I love her love of coffee. But try as might (admittedly with some lingering resistance that I may hold on to too tightly), I cannot find joy in drinking it. I like the smell and I enjoy a tasting or cupping experience (especially when being facilitated by Travis Wilson of Slow Coffee in Richmond, VA). All said, I’m just not a coffee person…whatever that may mean.
My preferred brewing style is a riff on what is known as gong fu cha (I am told this roughly translates as “right effort tea"), which focuses on the idea of consistent and controlled offering of the tea’s fullest potential (for some that means flavor, for others something energetic in the realm of Qi). The style uses smaller vessels (such as the gaiwan) to prepare tea over quick, iterative steeps (generally) for multiple tastings of the same leaves. With resilient teas such as a complex pu-erh, a session could enjoy well over a dozen steeps of the same leaves, observing the opening and change of each iteration in search of balance and other qualities that may be desired. In its most essential form, some argue that gong fu cha simply is a style of effort and preparation and not a formal ceremony. Though, there are traditions within that which many find ceremonial and can be treated with great reverence. In my own tea sessions, I am not trying to replicate those; rather, I use the tools and vessels alongside the conventional wisdom of preparation that is found across many who drink tea in this style. From my vantage point, the practice is very welcoming to borrow from and allows the excellent access toward seeing what leaves may hold.
Session Tea was a monthly tea club that I started with Andrew Centofante, of North American Sake Brewery fame. Each new member was sent a small tea set: gaiwan, tasting cups, and strainer. And every month, we would mail out a curated selection of three differing teas, with each mailing sourced from a spotlighted buyer whom we held in high regard. I think fondly on those fun prepping days where Andrew, Molly, and I would sip teas while filling, labeling, and sorting hundreds of packets to mail out in a giant USPS drop the next day. We only ran for a couple seasons before deciding the beta test was not sustainable to scale up for our living needs. It did make enough money to help us buy some fun teas though! And, I still would be thrilled to try a version of that again someday if anyone wants to share in a mini-tea club.
Tea sessions that I host can end up being fairly caffeinated endeavors. To aid with this, tea also has a large amount of L-theanine (a unique free amino acid which is both one of the most important substances in tea flavoring and is a bioactive compound whose benefits include antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, neuroprotective, anticancer, metabolic regulatory, cardiovascular protective, liver and kidney protective, immune regulatory, and anti-obesity effects). The balancing impact of L-theanine with the caffeine is reported by many as being more mellow and clarifying than the typical coffee or soda buzz. From my experience, there is still a strong effect and elevation that arrives which can be harmful to my sleep if drank too late in the day. Beyond that, there is the often referenced “Tea Drunk” which can occur after long tea sessions, where one may feel a bit lucid, giddy, and afloat. It’s relatively tame and manageable but notable that there are potential, short lingering impacts with tea. Worth the cost!