One thing about me is I love a good cup of tea: it's a connector for me. When I'm at my parents' house, the first question my mom will ask me after I wake up is "would you like a cup of tea?" followed by what I would like in it.
This sort of hospitality, practiced at home, taught me to ask others what they needed from me, even if it was just a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk. It's not a difficult task at all, and yet sometimes it seems impossible to sit down and offer the bare minimum to those whom you struggle with.
I'll admit it: there are people I struggle with and would rather not argue with. Yet imagining them sitting at a tea party with me is appealing.
Asking how to accommodate someone takes so little. It's a gift to know the order of a friend and be known by them.
For me, it's a cup of Earl Grey with a teaspoon and a half of sugar, followed by enough milk to lighten up the color, and finally, the tea bag left in to really steep for a while.
My dad's is forever a black coffee in a ceramic mug, not tea at all. There's no doubt to me that there's some psychology behind this difference in taste. As a sociologist (in training), I'm not yet sure what this means or what makes someone a creamy tea drinker versus a robust Arabica.
Drinking a good cup of tea is a sort of healing — your body thanks you, warming your stomach up, calming the jitters of the moment. You hold the cup, praying it won't spill, hoping your tension will ease. It's a perfect metaphor when your cup has become too full.
My cup often fills too quickly, so I've learned to move to a slightly larger cup each time. I started with a dainty mug and saucer and now it's practically the size of a big pot.
My big pot serves me well. It holds all the people I love and leaves room for me to breathe. My cup is no longer overflowing because I am in control. I have chosen to fill my cup with care, asking for help along the way.
I am not the same person I was before. As my cup grew, so did I: I am bolder, more flavorful, and I don't need much more than a squeeze of honey to be just right.
I offer this analogy to anyone searching for an outlet, a way to welcome in and be hospitable. I lend this to anyone in need of a larger cup; you can take up space. Your mug doesn't have to be half full or half empty to be just right for you. Know where your mug begins to spill and remember there are other cups looking to be filled by you.