On Becoming a Tea Monk

by Barbara Anne Radtke

This summer, as part of a book discussion group offered through the BTS Center, I read a charming novella by Becky Chambers called A Psalm for the Wild Bilt.  The story takes place in the future when society has transitioned to a new way of being more in harmony with the environment. The main character Dex is a gender neutral tea monk. They pedal a bike from community to community pulling a two story van. Dex lives simply on the top level where they sleep and keeps their personal effects. The bottom level folds out to form a tea room of sorts. They carefully place tables, chairs, bright cushions around the unfolded van to form a resting area. Behind the bar are rows of herbs and spices to brew signature teas.  When a client approaches, Dex listens to the client’s daily struggles, which have brought him, her, or them to the tea wagon. Dex deftly brews up a special tea to sooth a person who has had just that sort of day.  When experienced and skilled, the tea monk seems part therapist and part bartender. The customer leaves feeling heard and refreshed. Being a tea monk captured my imagination.  This version of compassionate listening could easily become a goal in the next phase of my retirement.

As I thought playfully about becoming a tea monk, it occurred to me that I was raised by one.  My mother, Anne Henzel Radtke, could be described as filling this role with 20^th century modifications. She could hardly be called a monk when some configuration of her five children was always with her in the house. Also, while my mother often served us kids tea at after-school tea parties on wintery days, she preferred coffee. So, her version of being a tea monk could be called a “coffee coach.” Well-known for her compassionate listening and good advice, she listened while serving “coffee and . . .”  Besides her compassionate listening skills, she seemed to know if the person needed a piece of cake, a slice of cinnamon bread, or a bowl of fresh fruit cup with their coffee. The outcomes were the same. Soon laughter came from the dining room where she served and neighbors left refreshed and smiling a little.

The cultivation of compassionate listening skills belongs to more than professional therapists. Being a good family member, a good neighbor, a good co-worker, sometimes a good stranger often requires suspension of judgment and listening with an open heart. In a time when people quickly jump to judgment, a little compassion and careful listening go a long way. When served up with coffee, tea, or seltzer, we can create our own version of Dex’s tea wagon. The weary world awaits.

Response by Kathy Hendricks

Barbara, I love the stories of both the tea monk and the “coffee coach.” Your mother’s hospitality is something we could all learn a lesson from. She fed both the heart and the body. How I would love to have met her and had a chance to glean some of her wisdom.

The topic of compassionate listening couldn’t be more timely. With so many of us in a rush and distracted by our phones and other devices, the art of listening takes practice and intention. To do so with mindful attention to physical as well as emotional needs is a particular gift. Just this week I went out to lunch with two friends. On each occasion, we lingered over some delicious food while engaged in conversation. One of them is grieving the death of her son. The other is healing after a taking a pretty nasty fall in the spring. During our time together, I was struck by the sanctity of hearing and holding another person’s story. To do is to “serve tea” with both patience and sensitivity.

I hope, dear readers, that you will share some of your thoughts about this topic. What ingredients make up a serving of tea or coffee that provide soothing comfort and sage advice?