On Tea, a Passage - by Alex Ranieri

Coffee is for the timepiece or the indolent Sultan. Its devotees either wallow or revel in the passage of time, depending on their circumstances. But tea is the drink of true philosophy; its taste, like the drop from Cerridwen’s cauldron, awakes the common sense to higher knowledge, and the drinker’s thirst for this knowledge only grows, as he empties and empties his cup. Coffee is as spiritually, philosophically muddy as its earthly form would suggest; it makes its drinker drunk on time; he looks at the clock, knee deep in drudgery, and is baffled by the hour. And does not tea, by contrast, possess clarity in every point? Do not the varied tones of Sencha or Assam kindle the light like emeralds or garnets? Its drinker is not lost in the mere workings of the clock. Instead, he is elevated to the realm of static time; where, though men move, they cannot age, and gods are made immortal.