Jan's Tea Party

In the morning, I awoke, and there was Yehowah, kneeling. He said to me, “I am your maker, your preserver and destroyer. Come, let’s have tea.”

And Yehowah made tea.

Then he disappeared.

There, the two teacups sat, one for me and one for Yehowah.

And I didn’t know: should I drink my tea? Would he come back? And if he didn’t, should I drink his tea?

If he didn’t come back, and I drank his tea, would he punish me? Would I be destroyed for drinking a cup of tea that he had left behind?

I sat, and the tea grew cold.

And then I heard a voice. “Thou shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and voice.”

I knew that I should drink the tea. But I was afraid.

I took one sip. It was very good tea. I took many little sips, until my cup was empty. By now it was late in the day. Yehowah’s tea stood there, waiting.

I knew that he would not return. And I knew that if I drank his tea, something wild was going to happen. So I told myself: I will drink one sip only.

So I did. Nothing happened. And I took another sip. Still nothing.

Then I opened my throat and guzzled the whole cup of tea.

Nothing happened.

What is this, a trick? I asked. Yehowah pours us cups of tea, disappears, leaves me sitting here, for what? For fun?

And then I heard Yehowah laughing. Big belly laughs that kicked up a hurricane and blew a tree down in my back yard.

“That was my favorite tree,” I said.

Yehowah laughed some more, and one of my windowpanes cracked.

Soon, my whole house fell down from his laughter.

I wasn’t laughing.

That’s my house, I said.

“Yes,” Yehowah answered. “That was my tea.”

Yes, I said, but…

“There is no way but the Way.”

Oh, I said, confused.

“There is no way but the Way.”

Yes, I said, trying to sound like I got it.

“Yehowah is the giver of all gifts. Stay close to me and you will know what tea to drink and what tea to leave standing.”

Yes, I said, remembering that it was he who left, but I didn’t say anything.

“I left to get some sugar,” he said.

I thought that was preposterous. Yehowah can produce the tea but not the sugar?

“Now I have ten pounds of sugar and no tea.”

I told him that I would make him tea. I would make it every morning and put it out for him. If he didn’t come, I would drink it all with great delight.

Yehowah said, “No, that won’t be necessary. Go to the cupboard and get out a rock.”

I told him that my house was now flat, and that I had no cupboard.

He said, “Go to the stream and get a rock.”

So I went and got a rock.

I held it out to him, and it burst into a million little pieces in my hand.

“This is your soul,” he said. “You have burst into a million pieces. The time for sitting for tea is coming to a close. The tea cups are gone, anyway,” he said, looking at my house.

But you – I started, and then I stopped. He was the one who poured the tea, I was going to say. But then, looking at my house, I thought the better of it.

“It’s like this story,” he said. “You don’t know where it’s going to end.”

“It is time to become that which you desire. The love you seek is a seed in your heart, and its shell is bursting. Let it burst, let it spread out and grow like a vine wrapping the entire cosmos.

“For that seed is the very breath of the cosmos, resting in your heart. You have only to let it exhale, through every bone in your body, beyond you and into everything that is.”

Where will I live, I asked.

Yehowah laughed. “The Temple doesn’t ask, ‘where do I live?’ The Temple opens its doors, and the world rushes in. Keep falling into my arms, and you will be wrapped in gold. There is no house but the House of the Lord. There is no Temple but the Temple of the Holy Spirit.

“Let your body be my dwelling place. It is I who am looking for a home. It is I who am wandering around with ten pounds of sugar, waiting for you to call me home.”

Can I have some of the sugar, I asked, not sure of what to say next.

So he handed the bag to me, and we made a house out of sugar crystals.

And that is where I now live.