Tranquil and Simple

TEA

A heart like still water purifies itself;

and its purity flows outward, nourishing all things.

In late May, at the turning of spring into early summer, the skies are bright and the breeze gentle. In Huashan, Taipei, the tenth-anniversary tea gathering of Xiaoman—The Wild Tea Banquet—unfolds like a flower in quiet bloom, gracefully blossoming within the embrace of aged red brick and drifting memory.

Red brick walls stand like the silent veins of time, while slender window frames breathe light into the room. A soft white curtain dances gently in the breeze, like a meditation stirred. Clay teapots, porcelain cups, and small glass bowls sit quietly—vessels of stillness. Steam rises in gentle swirls, as tea leaves and blossoms unfold within the warmth of water, responding to the moment’s quiet call. Each scene, though ordinary, carries a quiet grace—a humble beauty imbued with silent power, like a Zen painting come alive.

"Like the wind, like flowing water."

The Wild Tea Banquet, held in celebration of Xiaoman’s tenth anniversary, unfolds under the theme:

“The Beauty of Nature Expressed through the Five Senses in Tea.”

Tea, a gift grown between heaven and earth, springs from nature—its essence is nature itself. Wild tea, unshaped and untamed, leans further into the purity of its origin. Eight tea seats, each offering a different wild tea, invite guests to wander through varied landscapes of taste—where in each sip, the quietude of tea becomes a sanctuary, and the stillness of nature begins to speak.

An Innovative Party

At the red-brick quarter of Huashan 1914 Creative Park, golden roses bloom in perfect timing at the entrance’s right—quiet yet welcoming. Stepping inside, guests are greeted by smiling hosts whose warmth flows like a gentle breeze. Bags and belongings are set aside, and each tea guest is handed a small white cotton pouch—for holding valuables, yes, but also as a token of lightness.

With prior notice from the host, all the tea guests arrived dressed in white or pale-colored garments. As they gathered within the century-old red-brick space, their presence created a striking contrast—ancient and avant-garde entwined in quiet harmony. This tea gathering, in its serene yet daring expression, felt like the most fashion-forward party of all.

The tea practitioners were all dressed in light gray robes, their silhouettes reminiscent of monastic attire—an intentional design, specially conceived and crafted by artisan clothier Hui-Chung Cheng for this very tea gathering. It is both an innovation and an original creation.

Costume, too, is an essential part of the stage's composition. For the audience, this new form of garment was a first encounter—an unfamiliar visual experience. What kind of alchemy might arise when this fresh design interacts and intertwines with the other elements of the space? No one can know. And therein lies the essence of innovation, of creation itself.

Before the formal entry, guests were invited to sip welcome tea—wild-grown green tea from Anhui and jasmine-scented black tea from Guangxi. Served in hourglass-shaped transparent glass cups, the elegance of the tea leaves was fully visible, their quiet beauty so moving that many couldn’t help but capture the moment in photographs.

What followed was a floral performance by flower philosophy artist Yuji Ueno. Known for his bold and unconventional creations, Ueno has collaborated frequently with Xiaoman Teahouse in recent years. His artistry extends beyond the traditional boundaries of kadō—the Way of Flowers—seeping into the rhythm of daily life itself. Rather than buying flowers, he prefers to gather them himself from the mountains and fields, finding poetry in the act of foraging.

Among his most talked-about works is a large bird’s nest he built atop his own car in Tokyo—a living sculpture of impermanence and instinct. He has also staged numerous performances blending flowers with sound and moving image.

“All of my performances are rooted in the philosophy of kadō,” he says. “A kadōka is not simply someone who arranges flowers for beauty—I seek to present a way of seeing, a way of being.”

When asked what his greatest learning has been in over thirty years of practicing floral philosophy, he replied:

“To understand what it means to be alive—through the posture and presence of plants, to feel life itself.”

On this day, the material chosen by Master Ueno was a single withered branch, found and gathered from the wild—its form gently curved with the natural lines of time and wind. The vessel was a large earthen jar. He climbed atop the table and carefully placed the base of the branch into the mouth of the jar. It stood, though not quite firmly—a delicate balance in flux, a signature of his floral philosophy.

At the end, he placed a single lily upon the branch.

No words were spoken. Like nature itself—silent, unadorned. Each viewer was left to receive, to interpret, in their own way.

The Emotion and Power of a Single Drop of Tea

As the sound signaled the beginning, it was time to enter the tea space. One by one, the guests flowed into the hall—and were greeted by yet another unexpected visual encounter: under the warm, amber glow of gentle lighting, eight uniquely arranged tea seats were scattered across the room. Some were set with wooden tables and chairs, others with soft sofas, and three with tatami mats beneath sheer white canopies—like sanctuaries within a sanctuary.

The tea practitioners, already seated in stillness, awaited silently. Guests were invited to choose their seats freely, each selecting their own path into the experience that awaited.

Guests came from Japan, Hong Kong, various regions of China, and across Taiwan. Among the tea practitioners were several Japanese teachers, each bringing their own subtle expression to the gathering. Every tea seat bore a different style, yet all shared a common thread—gentle gestures, a warm presence, and a flowing rhythm that moved like breath itself.

In stillness and serenity, guests watched with quiet focus—the fluid motion of the tea practitioners, the fragrance rising from tea leaves, blossoms, and steeped infusion. With each sip, they tasted the shifting nuances of flavor, moment by moment.

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the white curtains, casting a tender golden hue across the space. That light was so beautiful, so tender, it seemed to dissolve the boundaries of time and place. For a brief, ineffable moment, one’s body remained seated at the tea table—yet the soul slipped into a state of utter selflessness, a forgetting of everything but presence itself.

So this is a tea gathering—

How quietly, how wondrously astonishing it is.

The host had also specially invited an Indigenous singer from Taiwan’s Hualien-Taitung region to offer songs during the tea gathering. Their ancient melodies—deep, distant, and woven with the rhythms of nature—resonated through the space, drawing a profound connection between earth and sky. Even within an indoor setting, the Wild Tea Banquet was imbued with the breath of the wild.

Later, everyone rose from their seats, joined hands, and danced together in a great circle. Though it lasted only a few minutes, the joy was radiant—at that moment, all five senses were awakened and fulfilled.

A tea gathering such as this—blending diverse artistic forms, unconfined by tradition yet quietly structured within its own inner order—is the very spirit of Xiaoman:

Is it Japanese? Taiwanese?

Yes—and not quite. It is both, and yet something more, something uniquely its own.

After the first tea was finished, guests stepped outside to enjoy an array of thoughtfully prepared tea delicacies. About half an hour later, they returned to the hall once more, this time choosing a different tea seat for the second brew.

By then, both body and spirit had softened. Smiles had grown wider. The air was lighter. Something within had quietly opened.

As the tea gathering drew to a close, a slideshow was shown—images from Xiaoman’s tea gatherings over the years: held in various cities and places, shaped by different themes, enriched by collaborations with numerous artists.

It was more than a retrospective; it was a quiet unfolding of Xiaoman’s journey—ten years of growth, of devotion, of imprints left gently across time, like tea stains on handmade paper.

Before the gathering ended, Xiaoman—the host—spoke, a rare moment of sharing:

“I’m deeply grateful for the many artists I’ve had the chance to collaborate with over the years. Artists like Master Ueno and Master Hirama, whose floral creations have left such an impression on me. Each time, I observe the expressions of those looking at the flowers, the silent power the arrangements emit—that profound stillness, that indescribable beauty...

And I began to wonder—could such an expression exist within tea?

That question became the seed of ‘A Single Drop of Tea.’

Today, several tea practitioners served tea in this way—sometimes one drop, sometimes three—each adjusted according to the nature of the tea itself.

A Single Drop of Tea—my hope is that each infusion may carry the same quietude, the same unadorned simplicity, and the same strength as a work of floral art.”

As Xiaoman once wrote in her book: “Stillness holds immense power.”

Xiaoman continues to walk this quiet path—

a journey in search of the silent, stirring beauty that moves the soul without a word.