The origin of tea began, it is said, when Daruma, a Buddhist saint, irresponsibly fell asleep over his devotions, and, upon awakening, was so distraught that he cut off his eyelids and threw them to the ground where they took root and grew up as a bush, the leaves of which, when dried and infused in hot water, produced a beverage that would banish sleep.
It would take a lot more than the thought of cut-off eyelids to put me off my first cup of tea of the day, taken alone in quiet introspection as I look out on the river while it is still shrouded in the early-morning mist, like a Chinese black ink painting in motion, before the heat of the day.
If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company. For many years I was bad company to myself but no longer. I now enjoy those quiet moments to reflect on all those years that have passed me by; on all the mistakes I have made, on all the stupidities I have committed; on all the shames and humiliations and treacheries and betrayals I have endured; but also on all the prides and accomplishments and brief moments of happiness I've lived through, which I now call experience.
They are the sum total of all the youth and the health and the energy I left behind as I bounced through life, spending more time on planning my next weekend than on how I might spend the rest of my life.
As the mist lifts, so does my introspection, and I'm ready for another cup of tea and a piece of bacon and a fried egg on toast sunny side up.
