A few days ago, my husband and I were in the kitchen in order to discuss what we wanted to do about dinner. While we were talking about it, I wandered into the dining room. We don’t typically use it, as we don’t presently have a table, but we do have a few things on a shelf against the window. One of which being my tetsu kyusu tea set. I wandered over and admired my tea set, until suddenly I noticed that there were curious white spots on it. I picked up a cup, and found that there were indeed a small number of tiny, white specks scattered on the inside. I found my gaze darting all over the set with mounting horror, until I carried the cup to my husband and asked him, “Is this… paint? From when you were doing the walls a few weeks ago?”
He replied in the affirmative, and I felt increasing levels of horror and pain wash over me. I wondered how they (my husband and mother-in-law who assisted him) could have so callously and carelessly destroyed something that they must know I care about, and either not even notice or not think to tell me. I ran a fingernail over a speck of paint in despair, and then realized that the speck came off when I did so. I checked the cup, and it was unmarred where the spot had been removed. Despite my resentment, I felt a spark of hope bloom that I might still be able to keep them.
One at a time, I picked up each piece of the set. Each cup, each saucer. The teapot, the chafing dish, the trivet. I went over every one with great focus, gently scraping off each speck of paint I found. As I did so, I reflected on my emotional response to what had happened. I reminded myself that they hadn’t known it had occurred, it was genuinely an accident. Then I considered why I cared so much about the set to begin with. It had been a gift from my ex-fiance. There was nothing special about who it came from. But when I reflected on when I got it, I realized it wasn’t that simple. My ex-fiance and I had been out with my mom, and we went to a shop that sold them. When I was admiring them, my then-boyfriend told me that I should pick one out, and it could be my birthday present. It wasn’t something he chose with care. It was something that I chose, and he was relieved he didn’t have to put forth any effort. It was important to me because it was mine and I had chosen it, not because of who it came from or why or how much it cost.
As I cleaned the paint off, I was also doing something else to them: I was wiping the dust off. They all had it. If this set was so precious to me that I would be upset at the thought of it being marred, why did I then leave it sitting and never think to clean it? It makes sense that I don’t use it all the time: It holds significantly more tea than I typically need in a day, and it’s more effort to use a pot and small cups than to make a mug at a time. But that doesn’t mean that it deserves to gather dust. If I care so much, why do I not take better care of it?
And that’s the most important thing, I realized. It’s not that it got tiny paint spatters on it. It’s that it had that paint on it for a few weeks and I never even noticed. I was feeling guilty, and trying to blame other people. I forgave them, and then I forgave myself. And from now on, I will make a point of trying to keep the dust off even if I am not using it. Because we should cherish and appreciate the people and things that we care about, and not take them for granted.
Well said Jaelithe. I’ve learned over time, not to let my specal tea ware sit in the cabinet. I now only purchase individual or two serving size pots – for when my husand will be around with me that day. We get so much pleasure each and every time we use our artisan tea pots and cups. It seems to elivate the entire ritual of tea. We first get pleaure from the visual, then the feel of it as we pour or sip from it. It always seems to enhance the tea that it’s serving us.
Thanks for this post. I have a few things that I love so much that I am “saving” them for a special occasion which never arrives. Mom had a set of dishes that were so special we used them once a year, but washed them twice. Your post has inspired me to stop hoarding the things I love and use them NOW.
The “saving” of the “good china” as it were is something that I learned from my mother. But as I’ve gotten older (and learned more about moderate minimalization) the more I’ve tried to maintain an appreciation through regular usage for all the things I own, and am trying to no longer own the things that I don’t use.
My husband reminded me this morning that during the winter months we use my teapot a great deal: We spend many a winter afternoon with the teapot on its chafing dish between us, drinking cup after cup. But in the heat of the summer activity, why would I remember winter leisure, haha.