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Authors: Chris Bradford
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father appeared.
Daimyo
Takatomi, dressed in a stark-white kimono, approached along a black-pebbled path. He paused by a large stone basin set among rocks and filled it with fresh water from the stream. Jack watched as the
daimyo
took a small wooden ladle from beside the basin, scooped up some of the water and washed both his hands and mouth. Once he had completed the purification ritual, he made his way through the
chumon
gate, and silently welcomed his guests with a courteous bow. They responded likewise before following the
daimyo
back through the
chumon
, which Emi had informed Jack was a symbolic doorway between the physical world and the spiritual world of the
cha-no-yu
.
They each took up the wooden ladle in turn and purified their hands and mouth, before continuing along the path to the tea house. Here, the entrance was only a few feet high, so they had to crouch to enter. Emi had explained that the doorway was constructed like this so that everyone had to bow their heads, stressing that all were equal in
chano-yu
, irrespective of status or social position. It also meant a samurai could not carry a sword inside.
Jack was the last to enter. He slipped off his sandals and ducked through the entrance. As he stood up, he gasped in astonishment. The small square room was decorated entirely in gold leaf. To Jack, it was like standing inside a bar of solid gold. Even the ceiling was gilded. The only adornment in the room was a single scroll hanging in the alcove. The
tatami
, while not gold, were lined with rich red gossamer, so that the tea room’s magnificence totally overwhelmed the senses.
Jack had been under the impression from Akiko that tea rooms were modest, simple buildings made of wood and decorated in subdued colours, but this tea house was grand beyond imagination.
Akiko and Yamato looked equally dumbstruck and the
daimyo
Takatomi was clearly pleased with their reactions. He gestured for them to kneel and join him.
Emi stepped towards the alcove, taking her time to admire the scroll painting before seating herself in front of the hearth and examining the kettle appreciatively. Akiko and Yamato performed the same ritual, then Jack tried to copy their actions.
He approached the alcove and studied the scroll, a simple yet exquisite painting of a kingfisher upon a bare branch, with
kanji
scripture traced in ink down its right-hand side.
‘The
kanji
says
Ichi-go, Ichi-e
: one time, one meeting,’ explained Takatomi. ‘The scroll reminds me that each tea ceremony is unique and must be savoured for what it gives.’
The others nodded appreciatively at Takatomi’s wisdom.
‘The script may also be interpreted as “One chance in a lifetime”. This reminds me that in any conflict of life and death, there is no chance to try again. You must seize life with both hands.’
Ichi-go, Ichi-e
, repeated Jack quietly. The
daimyo’
s words rang true. Having lost so much, Jack understood the fragility of life.
Takatomi indicated for Jack to join the others, then the
daimyo
lit a small charcoal fire in the hearth and fed the flames with incense. The heady aroma of sandalwood soon filled the air.
Retiring to a preparation room through a discreet door to his right, Takatomi collected a black tea bowl containing a bamboo whisk, a white linen cloth and a slender ivory scoop. On his return, he meticulously arranged these by a large oval water jar placed on the central
tatami
.
Next Takatomi brought in a second water bowl, a bamboo water ladle and a green bamboo rest for the kettle lid. Closing the
shoji
door behind him, he then arranged himself in
seiza
.
With due ceremony, he removed a fine silk cloth of bright purple from his
obi
and began a ritual cleansing of the scoop and tea container. The level of concentration the
daimyo
applied to the process was quite remarkable. Every movement was painstakingly precise and heavy with a symbolism that remained a mystery to Jack.
As the
daimyo
ladled hot water from the
Daimyo
Takatomi, dressed in a stark-white kimono, approached along a black-pebbled path. He paused by a large stone basin set among rocks and filled it with fresh water from the stream. Jack watched as the
daimyo
took a small wooden ladle from beside the basin, scooped up some of the water and washed both his hands and mouth. Once he had completed the purification ritual, he made his way through the
chumon
gate, and silently welcomed his guests with a courteous bow. They responded likewise before following the
daimyo
back through the
chumon
, which Emi had informed Jack was a symbolic doorway between the physical world and the spiritual world of the
cha-no-yu
.
They each took up the wooden ladle in turn and purified their hands and mouth, before continuing along the path to the tea house. Here, the entrance was only a few feet high, so they had to crouch to enter. Emi had explained that the doorway was constructed like this so that everyone had to bow their heads, stressing that all were equal in
chano-yu
, irrespective of status or social position. It also meant a samurai could not carry a sword inside.
Jack was the last to enter. He slipped off his sandals and ducked through the entrance. As he stood up, he gasped in astonishment. The small square room was decorated entirely in gold leaf. To Jack, it was like standing inside a bar of solid gold. Even the ceiling was gilded. The only adornment in the room was a single scroll hanging in the alcove. The
tatami
, while not gold, were lined with rich red gossamer, so that the tea room’s magnificence totally overwhelmed the senses.
Jack had been under the impression from Akiko that tea rooms were modest, simple buildings made of wood and decorated in subdued colours, but this tea house was grand beyond imagination.
Akiko and Yamato looked equally dumbstruck and the
daimyo
Takatomi was clearly pleased with their reactions. He gestured for them to kneel and join him.
Emi stepped towards the alcove, taking her time to admire the scroll painting before seating herself in front of the hearth and examining the kettle appreciatively. Akiko and Yamato performed the same ritual, then Jack tried to copy their actions.
He approached the alcove and studied the scroll, a simple yet exquisite painting of a kingfisher upon a bare branch, with
kanji
scripture traced in ink down its right-hand side.
‘The
kanji
says
Ichi-go, Ichi-e
: one time, one meeting,’ explained Takatomi. ‘The scroll reminds me that each tea ceremony is unique and must be savoured for what it gives.’
The others nodded appreciatively at Takatomi’s wisdom.
‘The script may also be interpreted as “One chance in a lifetime”. This reminds me that in any conflict of life and death, there is no chance to try again. You must seize life with both hands.’
Ichi-go, Ichi-e
, repeated Jack quietly. The
daimyo’
s words rang true. Having lost so much, Jack understood the fragility of life.
Takatomi indicated for Jack to join the others, then the
daimyo
lit a small charcoal fire in the hearth and fed the flames with incense. The heady aroma of sandalwood soon filled the air.
Retiring to a preparation room through a discreet door to his right, Takatomi collected a black tea bowl containing a bamboo whisk, a white linen cloth and a slender ivory scoop. On his return, he meticulously arranged these by a large oval water jar placed on the central
tatami
.
Next Takatomi brought in a second water bowl, a bamboo water ladle and a green bamboo rest for the kettle lid. Closing the
shoji
door behind him, he then arranged himself in
seiza
.
With due ceremony, he removed a fine silk cloth of bright purple from his
obi
and began a ritual cleansing of the scoop and tea container. The level of concentration the
daimyo
applied to the process was quite remarkable. Every movement was painstakingly precise and heavy with a symbolism that remained a mystery to Jack.
As the
daimyo
ladled hot water from the
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