Key #36: Chanoyu

The Fire Festival in Nara is utterly spectacular in its own right but its significance goes far beyond providing its visitors with some entertainment, or even with that semi-hypnotic experience of reconnecting to their primary selves through gazing at an open fire. While but a separate cultural event, Omizutori might be seen as, in a way, epitomizing Japanese culture as a whole.

"Culture" as a concept is rather intuitive. Its multiple definitions (such as, for instance, "the arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collectively") are mostly vague, but they seem to revolve around the word "intellectual". In other words, they are man-centered. Physical objects created by skilled craftsmen, or figments of imagination turned into words by talented poets/writers/playwrights/philosophers, it is manmade entities based in the world of men that are traditionally celebrated as "culture". For instance, Ancient Greek culture is most famous for such pinnacles as Phidias' statues of "Zeus" and "Discobolus/Discus Thrower", as well as for plays by Aeschylus, Sophocles and Aristophanes, and philosophers' schools led by Plato and Aristotle - and that's the culture the most seminal period in European civilization known as Renaissance was based on. That's also the culture its Japanese counterpart stands in marked contrast to.

Most Japanese foundational cultural traditions are emphatically non-utilitarian, sword making being the only exception. Hanami, ikebana, origami - all of them draw inspiration from Nature to create and/or celebrate Beauty. Coincidentally, all of them became international words, too - as did chanoyu that is known not for its literal meaning ("hot water for tea"), but simply as the "tea ceremony". Chanoyu is, arguably, the most famous tradition associated with Japan - and one that is most difficult to understand without being born into it. Tea is a practical beverage consumed all over the world, and it's exactly that familiarity that prevents non-Japanese from looking beyond the obvious (that phenomenon is known in psychology as "false familiarity"). In particular, when the obvious looks like a pantry rather than a temple of spirituality.

That's where teahouses step in...

Japanese teahouse is right on the borderline between the mundane and the spiritual. Unlike cherry trees that blossom naturally, tea has to be made - and it does require utilities, as well as such "uninspiring" objects as kitchen utensils and the like. So, a teahouse has to be run as a business, and that means customers, sales and repetitive actions. 45 minutes per group, and each group is presented with exactly the same experience the ceremony hostess provides many times a day, day in and day out. The very experience countless guests come for to obtain an insight into Japanese culture. The challenge of smoothing over the seemingly inevitable clash between the routine and the unique is what provides an added value to one's visit to a teahouse. The way the hostess takes that challenge in her stride is what turns such a visit into a wonder.

An authentic tea ceremony is mostly silent because both the host and the guests are meant to focus on and appreciate each subsequent step rather than chat away while enjoying a cup of tea. A simulated ceremony in a teahouse cannot be silent because it requires detailed explanations so, the hostess turns lemons into lemonade by encouraging her guests to follow her example and make their own tiny cup of tea. Each guest is provided with a bowl and a brush

while a cup with tea powder is shared by everybody in the group

But a beginners' introduction, the hands-on approach does help to turn random individuals into a cohesive group, each member being guided by the hostess, then comparing hir effort with those of the others. That positive group dynamics results in everybody's keener perception leading to better appreciation and, eventually, deeper enjoyment - and that's what breaks the routine, because enjoyment is contagious each and every time anew. The shared experience becomes truly unique for everybody in the room - and an entrance poster proves to be more than just a declaration