A far too long gap of absence from posting, but life burbles onwards in no particular order and that often dictates more doing than anything else. In these months past, my son, Sebastian, finally decided that it was time to 'own' his tea pot.
It had sat amidst other pots awaiting the time and the leaves that Baz would gravitate and decide to take it (either by his own accord or by coaxing). The pot's deep 'Da Hong Pao' clay had teased and tempted but I left it to itself and only used it a couple of times, with only minimal interest from Baz.
One day I simply loaded the pot up one day with some raw 'Sheng' Puerh leaves and poured myself a tea, leaving another empty tea cup beside him. Up until this point Baz had been stymied in past attempts by the fact that the entire pot was blazingly hot. This time, he delicately took the the one part of the pot that wasn't a scalding hot bit of danger, the handle, and then did the unthinkable (but dreamt of).
He poured a steady bit of tea into his own cup without burning himself, slopping the tea everywhere, or dropping the pot. It was done just like that with a reasonable measure of calm and skill and he even waited for the nectar to cool a bit before taking the cup in two hands and sipping like he'd watched me sip for the first two years of his life.
It was a kind of beginning for him and regardless of the tea actual tea that was served (in this case a gentle Jing Mai), it became a new beginning for the entire household. It was to set off a number of tea sessions where he would just imbue himself into his own versions.
This series of 'happenings' set the mind back to so many tea sources, mentors, pots, and leaves of the past decades of my living, and ultimately seems to connect a huge circle. Now, another circle of tea begins with Sebastian, his pot, and our collective tea times that we share together.
Far from being any kind of milestone, I realized that this was simply how tea flowed into one's life.