by Jeff Oaks
It’s quiet today at my favorite coffeehouse, Tazza D’Oro, although a demonstration of tea brewing is slowly taking shape, an excitement of glass, hot water, and bits of leaves. Experts tire me out quickly these days, all their talk a buzzing around a problem, a pleasure. When I drink my tea, I’m thinking, silence is a main ingredient. I’m not so interested in an over-precision of grams and brew time and homogenization. A large window to stare out of at the random world as it passes is as essential to me as the warmth of the water. A cup as round as my palm, a mug that keeps my hand from forming a fist, these mean something to me. A curious, gentle, sensitive, flexible expertise is what I’m after. I think the same thing about the poems and essays I want to read and write these days. Away from constant revolution, endless war, 24 hour news, a fear of missing out, of losing relevance. There is nothing to report. It’s June for god’s sake. Stop reading this blog and go outside and enjoy the sun. Or go get yourself so involved in a narrative you’ll grow quiet and disappear for hours. Lose your expertise a little.