On Waiting for the Pot

A pot needs a few minutes before it is ready, and those minutes are oddly hard for some people. Hands reach for the telephone, eyes scan the room, the knee starts bouncing under the table.

We have come to think of that short wait as practice. Nothing is required of you. The water is doing its job, the leaves are doing theirs, and the only task left is to sit and let a thought arrive at its own speed.

Often the thought that arrives is a small forgotten errand, or the name of someone you meant to call. Gaps are where those things surface. Fill every gap with a screen and they stay buried a little longer.

So let the wait be a wait. Watch the steam. If something useful comes to mind, jot it on the napkin before the cup is poured.