I kneel, set the lacquered saya before me, hilt facing right. Thoughts meander tip to tail; I let them pass, only the lacquered soul before me. I set down my left hand, then my right, touch my forehead to the floor. The saya slips to my waist. I stand. Eyes unfocused, mind clear, steel flicks from the wrist, from the waist, from the flat of my foot pressing softly into earth. A pause; the blade arcs above my head, settles against my left thumb, slides into the saya. The saya, before me, hilt facing right,
I touch my forehead to the floor.
I kneel, set the glazed bowl before me. Spoon, sieve, whisk, at the right. Thoughts meander tip to tail; I let them pass, see only emerald tea before me. I bow my head. Measure the tea into the sieve, watch powder dust the bowl. Water flows from the ladle. I lift the bamboo whisk in my left hand, stir gently, then briskly; play the tines against the liquid surface, work the emerald to a shimmering froth. I bring the bowl to my lips and sip Zen.