The turning of the calendar can make it feel like something is required of us. Decisions. Definitions. Declarations of who we’re becoming next. The world seems to ask us to act, to choose, to define our path before the path itself has fully revealed itself.
But we’re still in winter.
From a seasonal perspective, nothing is truly beginning yet. The energy of the year is held deep below the surface, tucked away in quiet storage. Life is listening, attuning, and preparing—not forcing its way forward with urgency or expectation. It is in this subtle, patient state that we can cultivate the deepest forms of understanding and readiness.
This is where tea practice offers guidance. Not by giving us answers to questions about the future, but by offering a container sturdy enough to hold uncertainty, curiosity, and stillness. Returning to the same simple ritual—water, leaves, bowl—we are reminded that clarity doesn’t come from rushing, from pushing, or from trying to control outcomes. It comes from staying. From showing up. From attending fully to the moment at hand.
Tea reminds us that there is no urgency built into the natural world at this time of year. Depth, not speed, is the measure of growth. The practice invites us to lean into that depth, to honor what is quietly forming beneath the surface, and to remember that being present is the truest form of preparation.
This Week in Practice
Tea as Ceremony, Not Self-Improvement
This week, approach your tea practice as ceremony rather than reflection, task, or goal. Ceremony distills what we find valuable. It creates a container in which presence, simplicity, and reverence can be experienced directly in the body. Tea practice is not about achieving calm or insight—those emerge naturally when we honor the ritual itself.
Consider what you are serving in each session: the tea, the water, your own attention, the quiet of the space, and the larger web of people and life that brought this tea to your table. Let the act of brewing be an offering, an exercise in devotion, patience, and humility rather than a pursuit of results or self-improvement.
As you sit with your tea, notice one thing you are offering in this ceremony—perhaps the leaf, your own presence, or the stillness itself—and hold it fully. Attend to the humility and attentiveness in serving and receiving. Observe what arises when you step away from expectation, comparison, or performance.
In winter, tea practice becomes a quiet act of preparation. We show up. We serve the leaf. We allow the ceremony to do what it has always done: return us to presence, reconnect us to what nourishes, and remind us that not everything meaningful needs to move forward yet. Let the closing of your session—whether a bow, the cleaning of teaware, or a simple acknowledgment—be part of this offering, honoring the tea, the practice, and the season that still holds us.
Five Element Insights
Water and Conservation
Water Element governs storage, reserves, and the intelligence of knowing when not to expend energy. In winter, strength is measured less by action and more by what we choose to conserve, protect, and nurture.
At this time of year, it’s easy to mistake restraint for stagnation. But in the Five Element system, holding back is not a failure of momentum—it is a form of wisdom. Seeds remain underground not because they are uncertain, but because the conditions are not yet right. They gather strength in silence, patiently waiting for their moment.
Rather than asking what needs to change, winter asks a different kind of question:
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Which parts of my life or energy reserves need to be held with care this week, rather than expended?
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What daily practices, rituals, or supports are essential to sustain me through winter’s quiet?
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Where might I be scattering attention or effort unnecessarily, and how can I pause or simplify instead?
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What seeds—ideas, intentions, or relationships—am I nurturing quietly, letting them develop in their own time?
In this phase of the season, conservation is not avoidance; it is preparation. When spring arrives, what has been carefully held will be ready to move, grow, and transform with full strength. Water reminds us that sometimes the most powerful act is to nurture, protect, and allow potential to accumulate quietly beneath the surface.
What We’re Drinking
Ocean Moon: Old-Tree Gong Ting Shou Puerh Cake
Ocean Moon opens with brassy, raw-cacao notes that slowly mellow into plum, dark berry, and earthy sweetness. Its tannic depth fills the mouth, reminiscent of dark chocolate, carrying a calm, yin, meditative energy that aligns perfectly with this quiet time of year.
Sourced from Ming Feng Shan in Yongde County, Yunnan, the tea comes from old trees aged 150–400 years at high altitude, cultivated in natural, unassisted conditions. Each steeping offers a layered, contemplative experience, reminding us of the power of stillness, patience, and presence. This tea invites a slower pace, encouraging us to settle, listen, and reconnect with the quiet intelligence of winter.
Current Inspiration
This week, we are drawn to the reflections of Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926), one of the 20th century’s most profound poets, known for his meditative and deeply introspective work. In his Letters to a Young Poet (1903–1908), Rilke responds to a young writer seeking guidance on creativity, purpose, and the anxieties of life. Letter Four in particular emphasizes patience, attentiveness, and the value of living fully in uncertainty—lessons that resonate strongly in this quiet winter season.
From Letter Four:
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."
"And if you merely remain at your desk and write, as you ought, with absolute sincerity, you will gradually perceive that what you now call your destiny is in fact a blessing, though you may not know it yet. Everything that happens to you, even suffering, is there to awaken your inner life, and to help you become the person you are to be."
"It is not your place to judge or force life. In solitude, in patience, and in attention, life reveals itself. Let it unfold. Do not demand clarity prematurely, nor hurry the ripening of your own experiences. The questions themselves are the doorway to your becoming."
Friend of Living Tea
Meet Lily Choi, L.Ac., D.Ac.
Dr. Lily Choi blends deep knowledge of acupuncture and herbal medicine with an intuitive, attentive approach to healing. She works with people to restore balance, ease pain, and listen to their bodies’ rhythms, all with care and presence. Lily is currently writing her first book on natural healing through traditional Chinese medicine principles.
Her Instagram is a refreshing, insightful counterpoint to the usual inundation of wellness content—full of practical, grounded advice, seasonal guidance, and thoughtful reflections. It offers a quiet, inspiring space for anyone seeking clarity and connection with their body and the cycles of the year.