i found a mug in a thrift store over a year ago.
It called to me… yes… quite literally…
pssst…. bat… pick me up.
Here’s what it looked like then
It was perfect to hold the regular way… and even more epic when turned round with handle facing away, cupping the mug in both hands… sipping tea… delightful, this mug. i’m a sucker for form AND function. When the two can exist in one item? Holy hell… that makes me a happy bat.
i remember snatching it up with excitement. i used it for my “month of tea” experience… sampling a different blend each night just to experience more than thirty very different beverages. Sigh.
i also remember getting home with that mug and googling the mark on the bottom to discover that it was “a thing” that was expensive and relatively unique. Ah, but i bought it because i adored it. i liked how it fit in my hand. i liked its bones. i liked how it felt against my lip.
i recall feeling a bit nervous… what if i broke it? And then… i said to myself … “the cup is already broken”
(Cue Master’s voice and the Buddha and a string of other freakishly smart and centered people including T from Sangha).
And this morning? Ah, this morning… the cup IS broken.
i’m flipping pancakes and i reach for the mug to get some coffee… and then?
A fleeting moment of self-recrimination (clumsy… tsk tsk) and then just a hint of sadness… and then laughter… C hears the crash through the wall and asks if i’m okay… i say yup… but the “bowl” in this case… “the cup” is “already broken”.
i’ll now gather the bits and take them outside to the spot i’m creating for meditation and it will become, in part, an element among other broken and discarded bits of life. i’ll see its smooth glossy bits among the others and recall that the cup passed through my life… that’s all. It brought me pleasure as it did so.
It’s all bubbles… really… just bubbles.