A few weeks ago, on the island of Vieques,
we gathered with friends from across the map —
different languages, different lives,
all held by ocean light and long evenings.
One morning, my friend Tomo brought out her travel matcha set and quietly made tea.
There, in the tropics, with sand on our ankles and salt in the air, she whisked the bright green tea. We drank, and for a moment — the world stilled.
It felt like traveling to a distant land and returning home at the same time.
This is the power of tea:
To distill a moment.
To bridge geographies.
To create ceremony in the ordinary.
Far from Japan, in borrowed cups,
the spirit of the practice felt more alive than ever —
a quiet tether to beauty, to presence, to each other.
It reminded me:
We cross cultures not to dilute, but to deepen.
We travel not to borrow — but to belong.
More fully to ourselves.
More gently to each other.
More completely to the moment at hand.
