I am a dreamer. I always have been. I can still recall countless moments as a child settling into soft blades of grass on the subtle slope of my front-yard (which seemed like a small hill at the time). It was my nature made chaise lounge that offered just the right perspective for gazing at clouds. I would let my imagination sink into shades of blue until the first white puff slowly faded into sight, and then I'd let it take shape as my mind began to pain pictures in the sky. I remember schools of fish swimming, a ladies high heel, a classic car with puffs of smoke trailing behind it, and a painter's palette. But what I realize now is that what mattered was not just the challenge to mold and shape puffs of clouds, but also learning to be silent, quiet, reflective and appreciative of the details.
To this day, I still take moments to uncover lifestyle scenes hidden in the sky, but I often find I'm distracted by a deadline or text message ring. As I pull myself inside and let the flurry of life twirl around me, there's a part of me still grounded in the hopes of a quiet moment that I've found with tea. The moment that the water meets the tea, the leaves begin to dance about as if I had just wound up a music box. I watch the twists of leaves unroll like an ancient scroll. Oolong pearls unfurl like soft ball of yarn falling down a flight of stairs in slow motion. When you hear your kettle sing and your let water mix with leaves, promise me that you won't fade out of the room, but instead linger and find comfort in the dance of the tea leaves.