A Thought I Had While Making Tea

I’ve been thinking about this word from Buddhism lately—samsara. It’s usually explained as this big, almost cosmic idea—the cycle of life and rebirth—but the more I sit with it, the more it feels like something much more immediate. Less abstract, more like a pattern I can catch myself in on any given day.

For me, it shows up as this constant leaning forward into whatever comes next. I’ll have a really solid market day, pack everything up, and instead of just feeling good about it, my mind goes straight to figuring out how to improve the next one. Or I’ll get a blend to a place that I’m genuinely happy with, and almost without noticing, I’m already thinking about what I want to create after that. It’s not that I’m unhappy—I actually love doing this—but there’s this subtle restlessness underneath it all.

There’s another word that gets used alongside samsara: dukkha. It’s often translated as suffering, but that’s not quite how it feels to me. It’s more like things don’t fully land. Like you’re close to being settled, but there’s always just a little bit of you that’s still reaching, still adjusting, still looking ahead for something to click into place.

I’ve started noticing how predictable the loop is. You reach for something, you get there, it feels good for a moment—and then, almost immediately, the mind starts moving again. Toward the next idea, the next improvement, the next version of things. When I really look at it, that loop is always running quietly in the background.

And the interesting part is, one of the only times I consistently step out of it—even briefly—is when I’m making tea. Not every time, but enough that I’ve started to pay attention. When I slow down and actually go through the process—heating the water, scooping the herbs, pouring the cup—there are moments where I’m not trying to get anywhere else. I’m just there, doing that one thing.

In those moments, that restless edge softens. Not because everything in life is suddenly resolved, but because, for a minute, nothing needs to be added or improved. There isn’t a “next step” built into the experience. It’s just complete as it is.

I’m not trying to stop caring about the work or the direction things are going. I don’t think the answer is to give up ambition or stop creating. But I am starting to question the idea that peace is always just one more step ahead—one more good market, one more refined blend, one more small win away.

Maybe it’s possible to keep building all of this, to stay engaged and motivated, and still have moments where nothing is missing. Where you’re not leaning forward into the next thing, even while you’re still moving in that direction.

I don’t know if I have a clean conclusion to tie this up. It’s more just something I’ve been noticing in myself.

But I do think this is part of what I hope people find in a cup of Maitri tea. Not just flavor, and not even just the functional side of the herbs, but a small interruption in that constant reaching. A few minutes where you can sit, take a sip, and not feel like you need to be anywhere else.

Even if it’s brief, that feels like something worth offering.