‘The Aurora’

Four-Dimensional Space:
“Being three-dimensional, we are only able to see the world with our eyes in two dimensions. A four-dimensional being would be able to see the world in three dimensions. For example, it would be able to see all six sides of an opaque box simultaneously, and in fact, what is inside the box at the same time, just as we can see the interior of a square on a piece of paper. It would be able to see all points in 3-dimensional space simultaneously, including the inner structure of solid objects and things obscured from our three-dimensional viewpoint. Our brains receive images in two dimensions and use reasoning to help us “picture” three-dimensional objects.” – Wikipedia

Aurora
2017 Phoenix Oolong Lao Cong Mi Lan Xiang (The Fragrance of Honey Orchids)

A teenage girl with a smile that could save the world and a personality as alluring as gravity, falls in love with a teenage version of you. She wears a perfume so blatantly childish and sometimes in such careless amounts, that the people around her would be forced to reminisce the days of Hawaiian Punch Kool-Aid and Tropical Skittles. They would, thankful for the nostalgia, forgive her for the aromatic assault. You dated through the high-school years, and eventually you talked her into attending the same university.

During the early years of your post secondary education, she became fascinated with pottery. Together you made special trips to exhibitions around the world but notably, on one trip to Japan, she found a celadon artist who was able to touch her soul with his work. It was a treat to witness, but outside a price range either of you could afford — even together. You returned home with a newfound appreciation for art, you’ve never seen her so infatuated with something before. Eventually your studies at the university came to an end, and with everything going so perfectly in life, you decided to get married. It was one of the happiest moments you have ever experienced.

10 years later, on your anniversary, you bought her a celadon glazed tea bowl from the artist she fell in love with years ago. The look on her face; that’s something you will cherish until the end of time.
The story moves into the bedroom, and in the heat of passion there is an explosion of red and yellow light. A few weeks later on a cold morning in the middle of December. You are in the living room, hanging up those little blue candy canes on the Christmas tree. You are hugged from behind, and presented with a digital display of “+”, what a blessing!

As two of you were cuddled up on the couch, watching the snow fall outside the living room window, you received a call from work. There was an emergency. You were asked to go in and provide your insight, and hopefully a solution. Things went sideways rather quickly, and by the time you arrived it became a rather dangerous situation; one that nobody around was really qualified to handle. Based in logic, your solution was simple, but definitely not without risk. You’re a young guy, well educated but perhaps slightly inexperienced. It’s not like something like this has never come up in the past. In simulations, similar issues have only required a simple fix, one you’ve done at least a dozen times before. You felt if anyone could do it, it’s you, and it’s your time to shine in front of everyone.

The force of impact is hard to comprehend, crushed feels too light of a word. You stand there, awestruck. Staring at it, staring at your arm, your wedding ring, your promise to be a great husband, father, lover. You glance around the room, Mary is screaming. Brent is shaking, covering his mouth. Emma is on the ground in shock, playing with her grandchildren in the backyard of her sons new house, learning her time-tables in school, and flying back from Costa Rica with one of those touristy mango-wood candle holders, hah, she would buy in to that sort of thing. Past, present, and future, there’s no distinction. Everything is now, true, insignificant, and unparalleled.

I look at my wife and child. They are outside, watching an Aurora in the sky, shivering, it’s -30 and they never wear warm enough coats, women and their fashion I guess. She is explaining that I am out there — watching, listening. I wish they could know. I am the Aurora, I am the celadon glaze you stare at when you’re alone. I am the goosebumps on your skin when you hear that song. I am the orchids laid on my grave and their fragrance woven into your memory. I am the Phoenix Oolong in our cupboard. You just need to add water.

I’ll break it down like I did with the Geisha. The first paragraph — all about the dry leaf. I got May to number the bags of tea and remove the labels so I could drink all these phoenix oolongs blind and not be biased by name or price. When I was sniffin’ through the different bags of tea, this one came up and I thought — “Jesus, this smells like that one hostess who used to work here [at Q].” For the record, she wore a lot of perfume, but as I said, that’s a pretty forgivable aroma (Hawaiian punch).

2nd paragraph, the aroma of the tea. When you steep this tea, the aroma somehow gets even better. I remember I was looking at various pottery from an online gallery, let me see if I can find the image… not going to hit backspace… going to ramble… waaaa. Fuck. I scrolled through 2 years of facebook only to find the image was deleted by the website. Moving on, it was a beautiful cup — the best cup. I doubt I’ll ever see something that beautiful again, and that thought will haunt me when I get older, I’m sure of it. The aromatics of this tea put the thought of the celadon cup into my head. I might be able to attempt to describe the tea as being like peaches or nerds candy, but its an injustice. This tea smells like the most beautiful art I’ll never have, with all the other aromas as its hype-men.

But then you drink it (3rd paragraph). You get the art, you get the satisfaction which comes with it. The intensity makes you want to roll your eyes back in your head. The finish impregnates your memory. Among other things, when I taste a tea, I try and jot down my impression of aromatic power, concentration of flavor, astringency, length of finish, and overall weight. Sometimes tea scores around 9, which is pretty crazy high. In fact — It’s been so rare in the past years to say anything is 10/10, because I put such tea’s on a ‘god tier’ pedestal. This tea (from memory, I don’t have the sheet with me) has 10/10 on Aromatics, Concentration, and Finish. It’s literally close to (or is) a perfect score.

Then I have the have the follow up thought (stupid pessimistic brain). Is this next infusion going to suck? I don’t have the luxury of stopping, because I am forcing myself to learn. I was so content, I didn’t need more, I didn’t want more, but duty calls, and I drank more.

Did it get better? I cant tell. I remember writing “intergalactic” as a tasting note. Sounds better on paper. I started to write down tasting notes like I ate mushrooms (never had mushrooms…) and it got weird fast. After the second pot that feeling of melancholy kicked in, and I felt the perfect scenario to drink this tea would be to sit in a glass igloo and watch an aurora in Norway or something. It’s not sad enough, what if I died and became an aurora? That feeling of futility that I couldn’t communicate would be pretty accurate. I should write a story about this tea like I did for the other one (Geisha). That’s how it got started.

I honestly think I’ve only had 1 tea better than this. Better being extremely subjective, because I have a lot more experience now than I did when I had the prior tea experience. Dunno man! This is crazy though! Whether it’s best or 2nd best of 300+ teas is saying something!