Kakuzō Okakura (1863–1913)

Kakuzō Okakura's The Book of Tea starts off, funnily enough, as an ode to the 'cup of humanity' (the title of its first chapter). It is as you would expect, extolling the virtues of that remarkable drink with its 'delicate bitterness' (pg. 25) and none of "the arrogance of wine, the self-consciousness of coffee, nor the simpering innocence of cocoa" (pg. 12). It is written from a turn-of-the-century Japanese perspective, but Okakura was also an observer of the West. This book – written in show more English, for "translation is always a treason" (pg. 34) – serves as a nice bridge between those of us who drink tea in the West (I am British, so of course I quaff gallons of tea) and its roots in Eastern culture and ceremony. Tea, perhaps, is where East and West meet.

And this is where The Book of Tea really begins to surprise and astonish. The early chapters covered tea-making (though it is never a simple 'how-to-make-the-perfect-cuppa' guide) but subsequent chapters go on to outline the 'philosophy of tea', or 'Teaism'. I am inclined to be dismissive of so-called Eastern mysticism, having lived through years of exposure to witless, patronizing wishy-washy New Age psychobabble permeated through Western media, and I was all too ready to scoff at Okakura's attempt to turn a nice hot beverage into a way of life. "Tea with us became more than an idealisation of the form of drinking; it is a religion of the art of life," Okakura informs us on page 28, and my scepticism and cynicism was primed.

However, Okakura's ethos actually makes a lot of sense. He roots the tea ceremony in Taoism and Zennism: Zen, he contends, conceives of "greatness in the smallest incidents of life" (pg. 47). The aesthetic reigns supreme; artistic appreciation is key and dedicated efforts must be undertaken to draw out and emphasise the beauty in things. Okakura goes on to offer thoughts on art and aesthetics in general, as well as some rather astute observations on philosophy. Considering I prize rationality and don't understand our contemporary Western culture's obsession with self-flagellation and anti-materialism, I was really surprised at just how much wisdom and thought went into the philosophy Okakura relates. (It is also worth noting at this point that the short little book is beautifully written, with some fine poetic lines.) I used to look on this Eastern spirituality and Taoism as so much flannel, particularly in its dumbed-down New Age form, so it is a testament to Okakura's articulation that after reading The Book of Tea – on a mere whim, not in search of any enlightenment – that I now have a lot more time for it. Even if I remain sceptical and unwilling to study mystics and oneness and whatnot, I am prepared to accept the viability of some of these elements and ideas. And that's not a bad result to get from a book supposedly just about brewing up. show less

The Book of Tea does, of course, deal with what the author, Okakura Kakuzō, calls Teaism and the history of the tea ceremony in Japan; however, this elegiac, philosophical work deals with much more: the influences of Taoism on Zen Buddhism, the unquestioning embrace of everything Western during the Meiji Restoration, the perfection of imperfection and much more.

This short book really made me think about the Western emphasis on the novel and faddish at the expense of the tried and true. show more Naturally, there is a middle ground between hidebound traditionalism and perpetual upheaval; the problem, of course, is determining where that sweet spot should reside.

I was completely unfamiliar with both this treatise and Okakura, and The Book of Tea impelled me to find out more about the art historian Okakura, his mentor Ernest Fenollosa and various others who interacted with them in Tokyo and Boston. I never realized that it was Fenollosa and Okakura who introduced Japanese art to the Western world. Most interesting was that, while fiercely defending the East, all or nearly all of Okakura’s works were written in English and later translated into Japanese. I definitely want to know more about Okakura and read more by him.

This book is free in the Kindle format, but it would be well worth it if I had had to pay. show less

Charles Lamb-i, një ithtar i deklaruar i çajit, ka rrokur thelbin e çajizmit kur shkroi se kënaqësia më e madhe që njihte ishte bërja e një vepre të mirë tinëzisht, që më pas do të dilte në dritë rastësisht. Sepse çajizmi është arti i fshehjes së bukurisë ashtu që të mund ta zbuloni rastësisht, i sugjerimit të asaj që nuk guxoni ta shfaqni. Është sekreti fisnik i të qeshurit me veten, qetë por plotësisht, ndaj është, pra, vetë humori: buzëqeshja e show more filozofisë. Në këtë kuptim, të gjithë komediografët e vërtetë mund të quhen filozofë të çajit: Thackeray, për shembull, dhe, sigurisht, Shekspiri. Poetët e dekadencës (dhe kur s’ka qenë bota ndonjëherë në dekadencë?), në protestat e tyre kundër materializmit, në një farë mase, kanë elur gjithashtu udhën për çajizmin. Në ditët e sotme, mbase Perëndimi dhe Lindja mund të gjejnë një ngushëllim të ndërsjellë në soditjen tonë të ndrojtur të së Papërsosurës.

Taoistët rrëfejnë se në fillimin e madh të JoFillimit, Fryma dhe Materia u përballën në një dyluftim vdekjeprurës. Në fund, Perandori i Verdhë, Dielli i Qiellit, ngadhënjeu ndaj Zhu Rongut, demonit të territ dhe tokës. Në grahmën e tij të fundit, ky titan e përplasi kokën te qemeri diellor, duke e thërrmuar kubenë kaltëroshe prej nefriti. Yjet humbën foletë e tyre, hëna u end kuturu nëpër humnerat e shkreta të natës. I dëshpëruar, Perandori i Verdhë kërkoi gjerë e gjatë për ndreqësin e Qiejve. Kërkimi nuk i nuk shkoi kot. Nga deti i Lindjes buthtoi një mbretëreshë, Nyvaja e shenjtë, brikurorë dhe bishtdragua, shkëlqimtare në parzmoren e saj prej zjarri. Ajo lentoi ylberin pesëngjyrësh në kazanin e saj magjik dhe arnoi qiellin kinez. Por thuhet se Nyvaja harroi të mbushë dy plasa të imëta në kupën qiellore. Kështu filloi dualizmi i dashurisë: dy shpirtra që vërtiten në hapësirë, pa gjetur kurrë prehje, gjersa kur të bashkohen për të plotësuar universin. Çdokush duhet ta ndërtojë nga e para qiellin e vet të shpresës dhe paqes. Qielli i njerëzimit modern përnjëmend është copëtuar në përleshjen titanike për pasuri dhe pushtet. Bota po zvarritet këmbadoras në errësirën e kultit të unit dhe harbutërisë. Dija po blihet përmes një ndërgjegjeje të keqe, bujaria po praktikohet për hir të leverdisë. Lindja dhe Perëndimi, si dy dragonj të flakur në një det tallazesh, më kot përpiqen të rifitojnë xhevahirin e jetës. Na duhet sërish një Nyvaja për të meremetuar rrënimin e madh; presim Avatarin e madh. Ndërkohë, le të pijmë nga një gllënjkë çaj. Kuqëlimi i pasdites po shndrit bambutë, shatërvanët gurgullojnë me ëndje, shushurima e pishave dëgjohet në çajnikun tonë. Le të ëndërrojmë për shuarjen, dhe të eglendisemi në marrëzinë e bukur të gjërave. show less

This was a fascinating book, at least in part because of the difference between what I had expected it to be, and what it was. Honestly, with a title like "the book of tea" I had expected it to be more about, well, tea. Instead, the focus was at least as much on the "zen aesthetic" mentioned in the subtitle. There's still plenty of information about tea, but a lot of it goes into the Japanese tea ceremony and not just tea as a drink. I've never participated in a Japanese tea ceremony, but show more after reading about everything that goes into one, I'd like to experience it for myself.

There is also more in here about the history of tea, and the differences in Eastern vs. Western aesthetics (as observed by the author) but I feel like the true focus was on the ceremony that goes with tea. It can be a very meditative read if you let it, and I enjoyed my time with this book a lot.

I have to say, however: I found the foreword and introduction distracted greatly from the main body of the book. I would have preferred them to come at the end, personally, as a retrospective look at the book. They feel like they are meant for readers who already know the book's material, so putting them at the front felt awkward to me when I read them. I almost wish I had skipped them entirely, since I don't feel like they added anything to my experience of the book. show less