Publish-ready essay

There is a particular kind of afternoon when something is moving through me, and I cannot find the word for it. Not sad, exactly. Not tired, exactly. Just a weather I do not have language for yet. On those afternoons, I have learned not to interrogate it. I get up, I fill the kettle, and I make myself a calming herbal tea, and somewhere in the small ceremony of it, the not-knowing stops feeling like a problem I have to solve.

A jar of dried things I trust

I keep the blend already made, in a glass jar by the stove, because the days I need it most are not the days I want to stand measuring herbs into a bowl. There is Tulsi in it, which my hands reach for the way some people reach for a familiar song. Lemon balm, which smells like a garden in the hour after rain. Chamomile, rose, a whisper of lavender, and a little dried orange peel when I have it. When I lift the lid, the whole kitchen softens. I have come to believe that smell is its own kind of medicine, the kind that works before the water is even hot.

The full blend is below, and it takes five minutes to put together on a good day, so that it is waiting for you on a harder one. That is the only planning this asks of you.

Why I reach for a calming herbal tea

I am not going to tell you this tea fixes anything, because it does not. What it does is make me stop. I have to fill the kettle and wait for it to sing. I have to spoon the herbs into the cup. I have to pour, and cover, and then, for five or seven minutes, there is nothing to do but let it steep. That enforced pause is the entire point. The feeling I could not name does not get solved in those minutes, but it gets company. It gets a warm cup, a quiet kitchen, and a person, me, who decided to be gentle instead of frantic.

I cover the cup with a saucer while it steeps, the way I was taught, so the gentle oils stay in the water instead of rising off into the room. I have come to think of that small lid as a kind of instruction for myself. Keep the soft thing in. Do not let it evaporate before you have had a chance to sit with it.

The permission to not name it

We are taught to be quick about our feelings. Name it, label it, fix it, move on. And there is a place for that. But some afternoons, the feeling is not ready to be named, and forcing it only makes it hide. The tea taught me something gentler. That you are allowed to take care of yourself while you feel something, even before you understand it. That care does not have to wait for clarity.

So this is the tea, and this is the practice, and they turned out to be the same thing. You do not have to know what you feel to be allowed to be kind to yourself while you feel it. Make the tea. Cover the cup. Wait. The word for it, if there is one, will come, or it will not, and either way you will have spent a few quiet minutes on your own side.

~ Liora

Liora Vance

A Calming Herbal Tea

A gentle herbal blend of tulsi, lemon balm, chamomile, rose, and lavender steeped for the quiet moments when you need to slow down, soften, and simply feel. Light, floral, and grounding, this tea is less about fixing and more about being present.

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Prep Time 5 minutes mins

Steep 7 minutes mins

Total Time 12 minutes mins

Servings: 10 cups

Course: Drinks

Cuisine: Herbal

Calories: 2

Ingredients Equipment Method Notes

Ingredients

  

• 3 tbsp dried tulsi holy basil
• 2 tbsp dried lemon balm
• 2 tbsp dried chamomile flowers
• 1 tbsp dried rose petals
• 1 tsp dried lavender go light
• 4 strips dried orange peel optional

Equipment

• 1 Glass jar with a lid
• 1 Mug or small teapot
• 1 Saucer to cover the cup
• 1 Small strainer

Method

 

1. Combine the dried herbs in a clean, dry jar and shake gently to mix. Keep it sealed and within reach of the stove.
2. For one cup, spoon a heaping teaspoon of the blend into a mug or small pot.
3. Pour over water that is just off the boil, about 250 ml.
4. Cover with a saucer and steep 5 to 7 minutes. Covering keeps the gentle oils in the cup.
5. Strain, sweeten with a little honey if you like, and sit with it while it is warm.

Notes

Lavender is assertive, so keep it to a whisper; otherwise, it will take over the whole jar. This is comfort, not medicine. The covering and the waiting are not extra steps; they are the whole point.