I've had a lot of quiet, reflective cups of tea in my life. In the worst places, worst times, in the most wondrous, the most loving, the most truly peaceful times. An empty house loaned to me on bike trip. The crest of the hill walling in the small town I prefer to call home. The roof of a house I couldn't stand to but had to be in.
idk, I think it's the act. The intentional sitting a place having intentionally followed the steps to make this thing with the practice of all the times you've made it before, to savour for only just so long but long enough. You sit there long enough to drink the whole cup. Or intend to at least. It's the intention.
I think right now--not this bit here with the tea but the whole arc of my life--is the best I've ever been. I'm in a better place in so many ways that it's actually kinda fucked up. I mostly kinda know how I got here. I mostly got here by holding on.
I have a tendency to let go. It's easier to let go. Makes it worse in the long run, but that's the thing about defense mechanisms--you only have the short term, what's in front of you is what you imagine ahead of you. You're so fucked by the moment that even looking ahead, you're in that moment still. I had to get real good at letting go.
Now I'm trying to learn how to hold on. On purpose. For the better. For the better of everyone and everything involved.
Sip your fucking tea. Try not to cry at the painful shift inside you. Feel your concept of relationship change. Fuckin hurts. Get better at holding on.