Taking time for yourself is a vital part of the spiritual life – slowing down, noticing your own cycles and seasons, what's precious in your life, and what may need care. One word for this turning of attention to things of the spirit is contemplation, a word with an Eastern perfume, opening us to images of silent gardens, empty rooms, a still mind. When the mind is open, the heart can receive messages. Openness comes from stillness. Stillness comes from taking time out from the rush of your everyday life. This is the essence of the art of tea.

Tea has many flavors, if you will: social, solitary, comforting, energizing, ceremonial. We will focus on the art of creating a contemplative tea ceremony for yourself.

We begin with the idea of "tea mind." This phrase, from the wonderful tea company The Republic of Tea, is shorthand for a complex and ancient idea about our connection to spirit, to what is eternal. It means stopping what you are doing and giving complete focus to the current task: making the tea, drinking the tea.

It means being open to new perceptions, to beauty and to truth, to messages the tea will give you with every sip. To seek tea mind is to agree to pay attention to detail and yet to see the whole. Tea mind is receptivity, not activity. This receptivity sits within you, still as the Bodhisattva Kwan Yin, pouring out an inexhaustible stream of life-giving water... which we will now turn into tea.

First, gather your tools. Ideally, keep a tea set just for ritual, set aside like any other sacred object. You may have the perfect set, or perhaps you need to shop. The search for perfect tea tools is not to be hurried. Nothing about tea is to be hurried. Hurry is for coffee drinkers.

It may takes weeks, or even years, to find the perfect teapot, the perfect cup or cups, and whatever other tea accessories your tea mind calls for. My ceremonial teapot came from an imposing display of Chinese and Japanese teapots and cups in an import store in Santa Cruz. I chose a plain unglazed light-brown miniature teapot, round and smooth, and two tiny cream-colored handleless cups with a slightly imperfect white glaze. I wanted something simple, no ornamentation, as my goal was to empty my tea space of all external stimulation, to give a clear channel to whatever wisdom wanted in, free of outer influences, no matter how pretty.

But this is not true for everyone. What is "perfect" in this case is completely subjective. You will know, when you find that inner still point, what is perfect for you. Hold each teapot in your hands, cradle the cups gently. Listen for the metaphors in shape and size and texture and color. Your perfect teapot may have a dragon on it, or blossoms, or be shaped like a peach. Your perfect cups may be covered in Chinese writing or have a delicate bamboo design traced in the glaze. Or your perfect tea set may be English bone china painted with violets. Listen for what calls you, and be prepared to have that change over time.

Next, choose your tea. The wide world of tea may surprise you with its variety. Black teas, green teas, smoked teas, herbal teas (not technically tea, but if you must avoid caffeine, a good substitute) – the Tea Mysteries are blessed with many blends and brews. For this ritual whatever tea you choose, make it loose tea, not teabags. Interacting with the actual leaf is important in order to feel the connection between you and the tea spirit.

Now consider the water. While there is a certain earthy groundedness in using the local water right out of the tap, unless you have your own well you will probably prefer to use bottled water. As much as possible, visualize the source as you choose your water, and see how that feels to you instinctively. Your ancestors may be helping you choose. Do you want local water or an import? Imported from where? Do you want water from a spring, or water from a glacier? How would that energy be different? Perhaps the ultimate cup of tea would be made from collected rain water, or water you've taken yourself from a spring or stream you know to be unpolluted. Whatever you choose, the important thing is to be conscious of your choice.

Having gathered your tools, tea and water, you are now ready to create your tea space.

The most important space, of course, is the space in your mind to receive the meaning behind the ritual. So clear out whatever obligations you have for a half hour or so, release all guilt and anxiety about taking time for yourself, and remember that this time will greatly restore your mind and spirit, clarifying and cleansing you for whatever remains to be done in your day. In other words, this tea ceremony could be done on your lunch break.

Having made space in your mind, now make space in your space. Whether at the kitchen table, in an office, a tea hut or a temple, the essential element is emptiness. Remove all distractions from your tea altar. The only items that remain should remind you of your ritual purpose: for example, a single flower for beauty, a bell or gong for clarity, a stone for humility and simplicity. Be guided by your intuition as you make your tea space. I tend to like absolute emptiness for tea, as a striking contrast to the opulent hodgepodge of my usual altars. Consider what will please your eye and please the tea, which should be considered a participant in this ceremony.

Arrange your tea set on your tea altar. Sit for a moment and ground yourself for the ceremony. Give all your positive, blessing energy to the moment. Invite the sacred to join you for tea.

When you feel the time is right, rise and prepare your water. Bless and charge the water as you pour it into your kettle and set it on your heat source. Flame (from gas or wood) is ideal, but electricity is one of the mysteries too. No microwaves, please. We are as concerned with the process as we are with the product. As the water heats, notice what waiting is like for you. Keep coming back to center, to focus, and to full attention on what you are doing. Keep silent.

Bring the hot water in the kettle back to your tea space. Sit and ground yourself again. Holding the stillness within you, place the dry tea in the teapot.

Notice the color of the leaf, the shape, the lightness. Smell it, engage all your senses. Take your time. Think about the energy contained in the tea, where it came from, how it grew. Bless each hand that touched it in its journey to you. Listen to the dry sound of the tea against the tea scoop or your fingers, the sound it makes as it drops into the empty pot. Think about emptiness, and about offering.

Pour the water into the pot. The tea comes to life now, bathed in the lifeforce of Mother Earth's waters. The energy of the pot has been changed. Perhaps the whole room has changed. Perhaps you are changed, perhaps forever.

As the tea steeps, empty your mind to full receptivity. Nothing is inconsequential. Pay attention.

It is time to taste the tea. Observe as you lift the cup. Notice the beauty of your hands. Feel the connection between hand and cup, cup and tea. Taste the tea.

Have another taste.

Do you like the flavor? Is that important? Do subsequent sips get sweeter or more bitter over time? Does your appreciation increase or decrease? Do you want a second cup? How is the second cup different? When have you had enough? What wisdom does the tea offer you?

Contemplate your tea altar. If you have more than one teacup, what is it like to have the empty cup there? When you have emptied your own cup, do you fill it again, or do you prefer it empty? Contemplate fullness... emptiness... and the times between.

When you have finished your tea – and you will know when that is – sit for a moment to integrate the stillness and openness into your being. Give thanks. The whole ceremony has been a prayer of thanks, as is every moment of awareness.

As you carefully wash and dry your tea tools and put them away, honor them for their part in your ritual. Notice how you have slowed down, how you honor each moment. With all your senses engaged, your mind stilled, your spirit and body refreshed, you are ready to resume your active life. The mystery of tea will remain with you.

Reality Check: Tea for Two

After purchasing my tea set, with full attention and intention of doing ceremony with it, I tried it out with my friend Beth in her kitchen on a rainy winter afternoon. We knew that this was an experimental version of this ceremony, a dry run, so to speak (the amount of water spilled notwithstanding). One of the first things we realized is that this type of ceremony should probably be done alone. Second choice would be to do it with someone you specifically want to be silent with or at least very quiet. Beth and I, though both experienced in contemplative practices, got silly.

We decided that it was because she is a martial artist that Beth had an easier time controlling her pouring, but we both dribbled. The tiny cups made us think of childhood tea parties, and we wondered if we should have invited our bears. Next time, we thought, hats and gloves, for sure.

The teapot held only about six ounces of water at a time; we refilled it three times. Each subsequent pot was different in flavor, sweeter, more mellow – and we reflected on how we like ourselves so much more as we grow older.

Life is tea, tea is life – and only when we get to the bottom of the cup can we read and see what it was all about.