Impermanence
My mother, Duilla Harkins, made her transition on January 5, 2025. Ever since I went to London and experienced high tea at Harrods, I have made it a point to celebrate life with tea. Over the years, my mother and I enjoyed tea together as we traveled, when we gathered with friends, at home when we were not feeling well, on special occasions like celebrating her 80th birthday, and we even talked my brothers and John into joining us at Hopsewee Plantation in Georgetown, South Carolina for afternoon tea!
Tea and its ceremony can serve to impart life lessons. Following is one of my favorite stories about a Tibetan Master and his student. As I write this, I have a cup of warm homemade chai at my side to soothe my heart and fill the longing for my mother to sit next to me.
A student searched for his teacher in the Himalayas. After extensive exploration, he located a teacher from whom he wished to learn. As was customary, the student spent many days outside the teacher’s door, sleeping in the dirt and waiting for an invitation to become a student of the Master. Many days passed by as the student waited for an invitation. He received a small amount of food and water but had no contact with the teacher. After a few weeks, the teacher opens his door and invites the student inside. The student enters the modest home and stays to learn from the Master. There are many things to learn – formal education, reading, writing, memorization, and rituals, as well as informal learning and lessons.
Being observant, the student notices that the teacher has a teacup that is always on his table, turned upside down at night. Every morning, the teacher rises, enters the kitchen and is happy to see his teacup. Now smiling, he sits down at the table, turns his teacup upright, and waits for tea.
As the student fills the Master’s cup with tea, he asks, “I see you every morning come into the kitchen, delight at seeing your teacup, turn it over, and sit and smile. Before bed, I see you enter the room and turn your teacup upside down, pause for contemplation, and leave. What is this ritual? Why do you do this?”
The Master said, “Every day when I awake and see my cup, I am delighted to know I have another day to celebrate life. I also know each day I can begin again, fresh, new, humble. Just like my cup, I have another opportunity to allow my empty mind and heart to fill with humility and openness. I invite myself to be open for new insights and experiences. Emptied and turned over from the previous night, I am ready to receive what the day will bring. When I turn my teacup right side up again, I think the happy thought, ‘I’m still here!’ This simple gesture is a wonderful reminder to celebrate every moment of the day.”
He continues, “When my work is complete, I turn my teacup upside down before bed each night as a reminder that all life is impermanent. I let go of that which filled my cup yesterday. As a Tibetan monk we learn to be comfortable with the concept of dying from an early age. It is a natural part of our world and signifies the next stage of life. Death is the transition from this to the next. In the same way the cup ritual signifies more than just the beginning and end of the day but also the beginning and end of life. Simply a transition from one to the next. Sleep is a little death, a small transition. Turning the cup over helps us to release the day. There is nothing more we can do about what has happened or what was said. It is time to transition to the next day. What is, is. There is no point in worrying about it. We cannot add to or take away anything from the cup, just like we cannot add to or take away from our life or the day.”
As I was helping plan my mother’s service and reception, we decided to include afternoon tea items for the reception (along with ice cream, a favorite of my dad’s when he was alive), where everything was diminutive and easy to eat. People stayed around to socialize and share love, light, and stories about my mother. It was beautiful. I could feel my mother in her beautiful pink suit and her golden cup, drinking her favorite tea, eating petit fours and tea sandwiches, and smiling. Cleaning up after herself with a joy-filled smile on her face, she turned over her teacup for the last time.
Duilla Harkins, June 16, 1937- January 5, 2025