Yesterday, I stumbled upon a meditating girl.
Through no effort of my own, I walked in on the beautiful serenity of a
meditating girl, a pillar of peace and love, a shapely state of existence.
Since I like to thank things,
Since I’m a thankful person:
the music led me to her.
Thank you music.
All I did was follow you,
follow the sounds of múm,
which, as it turns out,
is the perfect music to meditate to.
But, to be honest, I didn’t guess it was múm. I often
listen to the Icelandic group. They calm me.
They also excite me. múm is one of those groups that make music
both calming and exciting at once. They are an oxymoron. They are
everything. The meditating girl told me it was múm.
After her meditation, she cradled her large cup of tea from underneath her nose,
opened her eyes, and said,
as if she knew all along that some guy had been watching her,
I’ve never meditated to múm.
They’re really good for meditating though.
She was sitting on a blue yoga mat.
She cradled her large cup of Perfect Peach:
a blend of rose hips, hibiscus flowers, peaches,
orange peel, lemon peel, apples,
strawberry leaves, and roasted chicory.
Back when she was meditating – the large cup directly underneath her nose –
the tea was still hot, steaming into her nostrils with each
breath she took, fertile air traveling down to the nadir of her spine,
and then, on the exhale, she roiled the aromatic waters in her large cup of tea,
making the next breath even more fertile, more fragrant,
all the better to find the road to fruitful emptiness.
UPDATE: There are specific instructions for this particular way of meditating with tea that this post doesn’t give justice:
- Dim the lights, close the blinds, or do whatever it takes to subdue the room you’re going to meditate in, and then light a candle.
- The piping hot tea shouldn’t be held directly underneath your nose, but your chin.
- You can either close your eyes or get lost inside the candle flame.