“The heaven of modern humanity is indeed shattered in the Cyclopean struggle for wealth and power.  The world is groping in the shadow of egotism and vulgarity. Knowledge is bought through a bad conscience, benevolence practiced for the sake of utility. The East and the West, like two dragons tossed in a sea of ferment, in vain strive to regain the jewel of life. We need a Niuka again to repair the grand devastation; we await the great Avatar.

Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. The afternoon glow is brightening the bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight, the soughing of the pines is heard in our kettle. Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.

Nothing is more hallowing than the union of kindred spirits in art. At the moment of meeting, the art lover transcends himself. At once he is and is not. He catches a glimpse of Infinity, but words cannot voice his delight, for the eye has no tongue. Freed from the fetters of matter, his spirit moves in the rhythm of things. It is thus that art becomes akin to religion and ennobles mankind.”
From The Book of Tea by Kakuzo Okakura

I picked up this classic in a Tokyo bookshop a few years ago. It is on my desk as I type these lines, the very presence of the book exuding the stillness contained within its words.

Profound reflections on art, life and culture put down gently and lucidly, as though in a conversation with a friend over a simple cup of tea.