The invitations went out, everyone rsvp’d yes and it was the day of the tea party. All of the guests got dressed to the nines, sundresses, hats, heirloom accessories.

They arrived. Some alone, others in small groups. Only to be received by absolute silence.

The room was oozing with stillness. The tea table was set close to the ground. There were no small sandwiches or penafores. No massive floral arrangements. No antique porcelain.

On the low wooden table, there was merely a long linen cloth, a vase with a single fern leaf, and a teapot and small bowls made of clay.

The guests looked at each other with puzzled looks. Some honestly appeared to be internally panicking. The simplicity, quiet, and stillness was uncomfortable and foreign.

Some looked at one another a giggled as if to poke fun of the scene. Others went along with it so as not to be impolite.

The host welcomed them with a peaceful groundedness and gestured for them to take their seats.

And so the guests somewhat nervously and curiously maneuvered over to their seats. No place cards? How would they know where they were supposed to sit?

Eventually everyone found a place and wiggled their way to the pillows. The outfits made it somewhat difficult to sit on the floor. The guest sitting nearest the host, glanced down and saw she wasn’t wearing shoes so she took the lead and gently removed her shoes as if she was telling a secret to the space underneath the table.

Another saw her do this and raised her colored in eyebrows in a way that clearly showed theatrically she was shocked and if it weren’t so awkwardly quiet, she might have gasped out loud.

Soon thereafter, a few others recognized that shoes had been removed and they followed suit as if taking an actual exhale. What a relief.

The host was sitting up tall with the most graceful and elegant posture. She closed her eyes and took an audible breath. The first real sound they had heard since entering the space.

As if they had been given instructions to close their eyes and sit up tall, they took the lead of the host and adjusted their spines and blinked their eyes closed. Well, some did. Others kept one eye open.

She picked up a container that held loose leaf tea and smelled it. A gentle smile of obvious awe and gratefulness danced on her face.

She passed the dry tea leaves around to her guests. With no words or instructions, just a clear invitation to inhale the fragrance themselves. Although half thought it to be oddly bizarre and unnecessary, the other half went along with it with their energy showing they didn’t know what was happening, but they also didn’t care. It was a new experience, they were already there… might as well make the most of it.

Once the dry leaves went around the table, the host then delicately and meditatively used a bamboo stick to ease the tea leaves into the clay tea pot, clinking into the vessel like the sound of light rain on a metal roof. Another sound: bubbles from a kettle. But where was the kettle?

Even though no one could see the kettle or the boiling water, they could hear its presence as if they could actually see the bubbles created from the alchemy of water and heat like rising strands of pearls.

She reached under the table to reveal what looked like a ancient kettle passed down for many generations.

The guests opened and closed their eyes a few times… not really sure what to do in the moment but too intriguinged to keep their eyes closed. She proceeded to pour the hot water into the teapot and lightly settled the lid on top.

As she waited patiently for the tea to brew, she gathered all the small bowls into a semi circle close to her surrounding the tea pot.

She then poured a precisely equal portions into each bowl. Her arms danced like a ballerina around the semi circle, then back around in the opposite direction. Somehow measuring exact equality in each cup. She went around the semi circle one last time, this round with only drops until the last bowl, hers, received the very last drip of tea.

Her hands nourishingly grabbed each bowl and she, one by one, passed a bowl to each guest, meeting them with direct eye contact and a gentle bow of reverence. One guest instantly started sipping as her friend next to her nudged her leg, implying with her eyes to “put the damn bowl down. Look around, sue ellen.” Her eyes spoke with a long drawn out southern drawl.

After all the guests had a handmade clay tea bowl in front of them, the host lightly placed her hands on the wooden table, closed her eyes and took a breath that could only be described as sincere gratefulness.

She picked her bowl up and placed it in front of her heart center, bowed in reverence, and breathed in the tea before she sipped it. And exhale followed like a hymn. The guests were mesmerized.

As the host began to sip, she of course did so in silence and the guests, just like they had been doing all morning- following her lead (mostly out of confusion, but no doubt with a dose of genuine curiosity)- also began to sip. The tea bowls were small so after a few sips, they were all empty.

The host placed her bowl lightly on the table in front of her and closed her eyes. The breath moving through her body was visible.

The guests adjusted their sitting positions, smoothed out the wrinkles in their dresses, and looked around awkwardly. After three minutes of seeming nothingness that felt like an eternity to the host’s company, she gathered all of their bowls back into a semi circle. Again, like a dance worthy of a grand stage.

The women around the table didn’t know whether to be in awe or complete baffledness. The host began the process again: pouring hot water into the teapot, waiting with her eyes closed and a tangible sensation of peace for the tea to brew, then proceeded to fill the empty bowls again.

This entire process went on for three more rounds, for a grand total of five pourings in absolute quiet and stillness, save for the little adjustments and micro movements of awkwardness.

On the final round of tea service, one woman clad in a white sundress with handpainted flowers and a decadent hat to match, started to cry as she sipped her tea. She tried to keep her tears as quiet as possible but it simply wasn’t an option to hold them in. They were pouring out to powerfully.

The host recognized the tears but they didn’t phase her in the slightest. The rest of the guests started to hear her obvious tears and glanced over with one eye to see what on earth was happening. Yet like the rest of this bizarrely delightful and curious experience, they felt the call to follow the host’s lead and just let the woman cry.

One woman’s cry led to another woman tearing up, which lef then to another guest’s laughter- not mockingly, but rather as a release. Some made sounds with these tears and giggles, others remained quiet and let small streams of tears run down their cheeks creating an obvious streak through their powder and blush. A small few did absolutely nothing.

The host audibly breathed out as if she was sighing out breath all the women had held in for years.

It was exactly as it was meant to be.

Finally after the tears subsided and laughter quieted, the host finally spoke out loud. “Thank you all for coming and being open to receive exactly what you were meant to receive.” Her tone was kind, gentle, and honest.

“Would anyone like to share?” she proceeded to ask the group.

The women looked around in honest fright. It was almost as if you could hear them collectively saying “Share? Me?” The nerves were palpable.

After a long minute of quiet looks and eye-contact avoidance, the woman who was minutes ago crying mustered up the bravery to use her voice. She started to talk, not know what to say and how to say it. Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and continued.

“I’m really for once at a loss of words. I can’t explain it but I’ve never experienced anything quite like that. The quiet. The stillness. The discomfort. Then the grace. I don’t know how or why, but it felt like medicine I didn’t know I needed. When the tears started forming in my eyes I had no idea why or what was happening. I wasn’t thinking of anything sad. I’m not sad.”

The host placed one hand over her heart and the woman could feel that she was genuinely listening in a tangible way. Also a feeling this woman had never really experienced.

She continued, “And I don’t know what else to say except for I think I finally heard my heartbeat. There was something so pure and innocent about this experience. There was no small talk, no questions, no music, no background music and because of that I could hear such sweetness. The water being heated and then poured into the tea pot. The tea being poured. The sound of everyone sipping. I guess what I’m trying to say is the quietness of this experience and the innocence of the simplicity felt important. It reminded me of how sweet the world really is. We love to dress up and put on a show, we fill so much time with chit chat, but I feel like I know you all in a deeper way than ever before because I sat with you in quiet, soft stillness.”

A few women to her right and left began nodding in surprising agreement.

“So, thank you, my dear for bringing us here together this morning. It was unexpected in every way,” she laughed. “But it was needed. I feel like I can hear in a whole new way thanks to the quiet. I’m not going to lie, it felt weird as all get out at first, but when I really surrendered into the experience, I received more than I ever knew possible from a mere cup of tea,” her southern drawl pungent and genuine.

“All I can say now is thank you. For the quiet, for the stillness, for the grace, for the opportunity for humility. It broke me open and I didn’t even know I was closed.” She looked around at her fellow tea guests around the table who were listening with touching awareness, one crying yet again.

“Can y’all believe it? It’s been, what an entire hour and not a one of us uttered a word. That has to be some kind of record. Really though, what a powerful experience that somehow changed me,” she said as an expression of true gratitude.

The host never offered extra words or even explained why she brought them all together in this way. She didn’t need to. It was obvious. She thanked all of them for having tea with her then sent them on their way with hugs but no more words.

The silence was not what they expected to be served on that day, but it served them in more ways than one.