One thing about me is I love a good cup of tea: it’s a connector for me. When I’m at my parents’ house, the first question my mom will ask me after I wake up is “would you like a cup of tea?”, followed by what I would like in it.
This sort of hospitality, even in my own home, taught me to ask others what they needed from me, even if it was just a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk. It’s not a difficult task at all and yet sometimes it seems impossible to sit down and offer the bare minimum to those whom you struggle with.
I’ll admit it, there are people I wouldn’t want to debate, yet imagining this person sitting at a tea party with me is alluring.
It’s not a difficult gesture to ask to accommodate. It’s a gift to know the order of a friend and be known by them.
For me, it’s a cup of earl grey with a teaspoon and a half of sugar, followed by enough milk to lighten up the color, and finally, leaving the tea bag in to really steep for a while.
My dad’s is forever a black coffee in a ceramic mug. There’s no doubt to me that there’s some psychology behind this. As a sociologist (in training), I’m not yet sure what this means or what makes someone a creamy tea drinker versus a robust Arabica.
Drinking a good cup of tea is a sort of healing—your body thanks you, warming your stomach up, calming the jitters of the moment. You hold the cup, praying it won’t spill, hoping your tension will relieve itself. It’s a perfect metaphor when your cup has become too full.
My cup often fills too quickly, and I’ve developed a method of dumping my too full cup into a slightly larger cup. I started with a dainty mug and saucer and now it’s practically the size of a honeypot.
My honeypot serves me well. It holds all the people I love and leaves room for me to breathe. My cup is no longer overflowing because I am in control. I have chosen to fill my cup with care, asking for help along the way.
I am not the same substance I was before. I am bolder, more flavorful, and I don’t need much more than a squeeze of honey to be just right.
I offer this analogy to anyone searching for an outlet, a way to welcome in and be hospitable. I lend this to anyone in need of a larger cup; you can take up space. Your mug doesn’t have to be half full or half empty to be just right for you. Know where your mug begins to spill and remember there are other cups looking to be filled by you.