Ritual and Freedom

In the mornings, I start with two clean ceramic teapots. In one I put two teaspoons of green oolong tea. When my water heats, I put a small amount in both pots. In the old brewing pot, it “washes” the leaves, opening them a bit. In the finishing teapot, the hot water heats and prepares the pot. I dump the water from both pots, making sure not to lose any of my fresh leaves.

When the water boils, I fill the brewing pot, let it sit a few seconds and then carefully strain the water from this pot into the other. I do not let the tea steep long, as I don’t like the bitter taste of “stewed” tea. I keep the leaves all day and sometimes brew another pot.

This simple ritual has been with me for many years. Now it accompanies our morning fruit and oatmeal. In our early days, I would brew tea and set the table. The sun came up over our mountain, moving north or south on the horizon depending on the time of year. I sat waiting and drinking tea until Don and Jesse, or our foreign students came down for breakfast. 

We buy the tea at Ten Ren tea shop. In San Francisco, it was on Grant Street. Here in Los Angeles there is one in Chinatown and several others as well. Ten Ren began in Taiwan in 1953 and is dedicated to providing fine tea. It has a “tea library” which provides history and preparation information. When I go to the shop, the person takes down a large tin canister of the semi-fermented Tung-Ting green oolong tea I have asked for. It is not the most expensive. We are not connoisseurs. We are simply daily drinkers.

I was surprised to find I was habit-driven when I got together with Don. I thought I was like everyone else. But against Don’s no-holds-barred dedication to the moment, I, who stop to take time for meals, honor my circadian rhythms and have other rituals as well, do find that I am.

But also, I like to think that my life is my own, that there is room for spontaneity, and that I am free! When I began studying tai chi and learned from Deng Ming Dao that “discipline is freedom,” I was surprised. Of course. It allows you to accomplish things. But it was Robert Pirsig, in his book Lila: An Inquiry into Morals [published 1991], that really delved into the question.

Pirsig says that the resolution of the conflict (in Buddhist and Vedantic philosophies) between ritual and freedom is one of the most profound achievements of the human mind. In the study of the dharma, which is the basis of order, the bond which holds society together, in the East, ritual and freedom are combined.

A zen monk’s life is nothing but ritual. But “you free yourself from static patterns by putting them to sleep,” writes Pirsig. “That is you master them with such proficiency that they become an unconscious part of your nature … There, in the center of the most monotonous boredom of static ritualistic pattern, the dynamic freedom is found.”

I certainly do not claim much for my rituals and habits. Pirsig also insists, “real ritual has to grow out of your own nature. It can’t be intellectualized and patched on.” That is, each of us establishes our own. And I think that, by now, Don appreciates my rituals. It is one of the ways we have adapted to each other and built a life. I am gentle in my expectations, usually! And he knows that he will have to drop what he is doing and respond, while having complete freedom to do his work the rest of the time.

Dharma certainly does include for me, as it does for Buddhists, right thoughts, understanding, actions and livelihood, but I have made it up as I go along, from many traditions. My early Scandinavian Christian background, the San Francisco Bay Area ethos of the end of the 20th century, my soft martial arts training, and my understanding of what it takes to be a whole and healthy person, all contribute.

But I am no longer concerned about freedom. As a self, I am wobbling in the general pattern of the strange attractors of my own dynamic system, as well as the dynamic systems of the universe.  I have some freedom within this natural order of things. I am responsible for the path and choices of this self, whether ritualized or not. Who knows what awaits? 

And I am certainly not alone. Every being, both animate and inanimate, responds in its own way to the dynamic systems around us. As humans, our task is awareness. And all of our actions matter.

This morning I made tea and now I am setting some bread. It is made from a recipe I have used for years, requiring little attention. The ingredients are purchased from a bulk store, flours, salt, yeast. They are always on hand and I can make it whenever we run out. The result is generally the same, though it varies with the weather and the flours I use.

And like the butterfly, the flapping of whose wings may stir up a storm on the other side of the world, I do believe that the considered uses of my rituals and my freedom matter. Every day.