Why stepping away from Japanese tea ceremony led me back to matcha, mindfulness, and Zen-inspired wellness.
I Have a Confession to Make
I’m writing a book about matcha, Zen, and the Japanese tea ceremony —
but I’m actually a tea ceremony dropout.
This might sound surprising, especially if you’re interested in traditional Japanese culture or mindful tea practices. But my story with tea didn’t begin with enlightenment. It began with boredom, confusion, and eventually, walking away.
And yet, that detour turned out to be essential.
Growing Up with Tea Ceremony in Japan
When I was younger, I practiced tea ceremony simply because my mother studied it with her own teacher. She didn’t teach it at home, but she wanted me to learn.
At the time in Japan, tea ceremony was considered a refined cultural skill for young women — almost part of our upbringing. Learning it wasn’t really a choice; it was something you were supposed to do.
So I went. I learned the movements. I memorized the forms.
But I didn’t understand them.
Why I Quit Tea Ceremony
To be completely honest, I found tea ceremony boring.
You copied exactly what the teacher did and repeated the same sequence over and over again. As a teenager, I couldn’t grasp the meaning behind those slow, quiet movements. The silence felt heavy. The repetition felt meaningless.
Eventually, I lost interest — and I quit.
At the time, I thought that meant tea ceremony simply wasn’t for me.
Discovering Matcha and Japanese Tea Again
But life has a funny way of bringing things back.
Years later, I began studying matcha and Japanese tea culture on my own — not through formal lessons, but through curiosity, wellness, and daily life.
That’s when something started to shift.
As I learned more about the philosophy behind matcha and the deeper meaning of tea ceremony, I finally understood what I had missed before.
Why Repetition Isn’t Boring — It’s the Point
Now I see that repetition isn’t boring at all — it’s the key.
Repeating the same movements is how the mind settles.
It’s how focus deepens.
It’s how beauty quietly reveals itself.
The rhythm that once felt meaningless to my teenage self is exactly what creates calm, intention, and clarity. What I once experienced as restriction, I now understand as freedom — freedom from constant thinking, judging, and rushing.
This realization completely changed how I relate to matcha, mindfulness, and Zen-inspired living.
Coming Back to Tea in My Own Way
I may have walked away from tea ceremony in the past, but those early memories stayed with me.
And somehow, they led me back to tea — not out of obligation, but out of genuine appreciation. Not through strict form, but through everyday rituals: preparing matcha at home, slowing down, and paying attention to the present moment.
That’s the spirit behind Matcha Moments.
Why I’m Writing This Matcha Book Now
Maybe that’s why I’m writing this book now.
Not as a tea ceremony master.
Not as someone who followed the traditional path perfectly.
But as someone who stepped away — and returned with understanding.
Maybe leaving tea ceremony was part of my path all along.
And maybe matcha, in its quiet and gentle way, was always waiting for me to come back.
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