I have just drunk the perfect chai. The mix of spices was ideally balanced. The quality and strength of tea was spot on. The flavour and sweetness of the jaggery was just right. The milkiness was optimal. The sun was shining, the air was warm and I sat in the shade with a gentle breeze blowing in off the ocean. This chai could not be surpassed. It was perfect.
Many factors came together in the chai. The most significant, though, was that I had made the chai myself. The preparation had been an unhurried affair – cracking the cardamom pods, crumbling the cinnamon, peeling and shredding the ginger. Then there was the prolonged simmering of the spices, the shaving of the jaggery, the blending in of the tea and milk powder. All of this was a simple pleasure in itself. That energy, of care, of love, was what really infused the chai. That meditation is what made the chai perfect.
Exactly the same is true of truth. We can learn something of truth from others, just as we can appreciate a chai made by someone else. Others can teach us how to seek truth for ourself, just as others can teach us how to make chai. Truth itself though – perfect truth – will only come in the wake of our own patient, caring, loving exploration.
