I enjoy Drinking Tea on a sunny afternoon.

After brewing the first round of tea, I sift it and then sit quietly, watching as the essence of Zen rises and falls. The young leaves gradually come to life and emit a delicate fragrance in the boiling water.

After rinsing the teapot, I wait for a moment before pouring another stream of green liquid, the mist rising from the fair pitcher resembling an eye:

The foam sinks while the essence floats, as bright as accumulated snow, as vibrant as the depths of spring.

I watch Black Tea dance seductively in a glass cup, green tea rest calmly in a fine porcelain bowl, and White Tea complement each other beautifully in a black-glazed cup… I imitate the Song Dynasty's tea competitions and the spring shadows of the Tang Dynasty.

This evokes thoughts of the Li and Zhao dynasties: cups made of imperial celadon, tea named “moon cakes.” Where can one find the likes of Yi Gong's broth or Lu Yu's tea?

Pouring the tea into the cup, I concentrate and enter deep meditation.

Drinking tea can be casual and spontaneous, but it is not something to be taken lightly. To brew a good cup of tea, one must smell its aroma, taste its flavor, observe its color, and appreciate its form.

To know the scent and taste is instinctive, but to discern the color and form is a skill. Since the rise of tea culture, scholars, poets, hermits, and wise men have praised the profound depth of tea ceremonies.

The thumbprints of the potter seem to remain on my Yixing purple clay teapot. Gently tracing those faint lines, a sense of human warmth flows into my heart along with the warmth of the teapot.

This handmade teapot must have been infused with the potter's dedication and warmth. Otherwise, how could it remain comfortable to hold even when filled with boiling water, as gentle as human skin?

I carefully examine the light blue cup modeled after Ru ware. Its glaze surface is finely cracked, with shades intertwining like fish scales or cicada wings. The delicate patterns seem to float on the lustrous glaze, creating an indescribable pleasure in appreciation.

The formation of these crackles began as a flaw in the glaze surface caused by high-temperature firing, known in the trade as “crackling.” At first, artisans were reluctant to see such defects.

However, some artistic craftsmen transformed this uncontrollable, ever-changing flaw into a natural and beautiful decoration, achieving a perfect balance—truly a work of genius.

Was this a case of turning a defect into an advantage? Or do people sometimes disdain something simply because they haven't discovered its beauty?

The Buddha teaches: based on what you hear, contemplate according to the truth, giving rise to subtle and marvelous wisdom… Perhaps poetry has a soul, flowers have a spirit, the Buddha has an affinity, and tea has a way. Painting and calligraphy possess their own elegance, inherently connected to humanity.

Thus, it is natural for people to gain wisdom from a single flower, blade of grass, stone, or tree. But profound truths are elusive, neither arising nor ceasing. This tells me that such connections and resonances are not easily attained.

Just as opportunities are reserved for the prepared, the great path and profound realizations are reserved for those who look with their hearts. Learning to look with the heart, rather than just the eyes, allows one to grasp a fraction of the wisdom contained within the green waves, emerald leaves, and tea cups.