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“de·vo·tion  (d-vshn) n.  Ardent, often selfless affection and dedication, as to a person or principle.”

This weekend’s blog is dedicated (devoted!) to the men of Tampa.

A story is frequently told of an Englishwoman whose practice it was to have tea every day at 4:00.  No matter what was going on, no matter what her mood, how busy she was, how her day was going or how many things clamored for her attention, she stopped everything at 4:00. With meticulous attention to detail she prepared cups, cream, and sugar, set the water to boil, and laid out the necessary instruments the way one might lay out surgical equipment before a serious operation. With slow, steady movements, like a religious ritual, she carefully spooned the same tea into the same teapot, day after day after day.

The woman’s husband had been serving as a soldier in the second World War, and one day at 3:57 a large black sedan slowly pulled into the driveway. Four officers in full military dress got out of the car, heads bowed, and walked with slow and somber cadence towards the front door. Seeing them through the front window, the woman knew immediately why they were there, and how her life was about to change.

“Good afternoon ma’am. May we come in? We have something important to discuss with you.”

“Yes, I know why you’ve come. But it’s 4:00.  It’s time for tea. Please be seated; I’ll return shortly with tea and you can tell me what you’ve come to tell me.”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid this news will not have you much in the mood for tea.”

“Gentlemen, tea is not dependent on mood. It is my practice to have tea at 4:00, and it is now 4:00. Whatever else is going on, it will just have to wait for the tea. Trust me, there is always time for tea, no matter what else it is that you have brought with you.”

And so the woman proceeded with the same careful, ritual preparation of the tea that she had made every day of her life at 4:00 while the officers waited nervously. After she finally sat down to tea with them, she heard the story of the death of her husband in combat, shared a few moments of fellowship and sympathy with the men who brought her the sad news, and eventually thanked them for coming and sent them on their way.

This is a story of devotion, what some call a story of “tea as a spiritual practice.” One of the markers for devotion is a commitment to do something “no matter what.” We devote ourselves to many things, often without thinking much about it.

I have an aunt who is absolutely devoted to knitting. She knits “no matter what.” She knits while people are being born, she knits while people are dying; she knits for marriages and for babies; she knits when she’s anxious, when she’s happy, while having conversation with others and when she’s all alone. She always has her “knitting sack” with her the way a doctor has his little black bag or a shaman has his pouch of herbs and power objects; her knitting is the “medicine bag” she carries with her, the ritual she performs that holds space for everything else, the way tea held space in the Englishwoman’s world.

I might have dinner with one friend because I haven’t seen her in a long while; or I might have dinner with another because I’m in the mood for something fun and light, or I might call and cancel dinner for later in the week because I’m feeling stressed and overbooked. I’m not devoted to dinner with friends, but I like it a lot.

However, I show up for tea in the morning with my spouse, every day. I do it “no matter what.” Cranky, happy, stressed, lazy, sleepy, bored, all the possible states you could find me in at 6 AM, it doesn’t matter. I feel devotion to our marriage, and I sit down to tea together “no matter what.” It’s not because I always expect to have a good time–sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I wake up foul; I feel sorry for the person on the other side of the teapot. It’s not the most substantive thing that happens in my day, but it’s the most important, because it holds a kind of space for everything else that happens after it. I am devoted to tea at 6 together as a symbol of being devoted to marriage.

Some of you are devoted to a particular hot beverage in the morning, perhaps without recognizing that you are experiencing devotion.  If you look carefully, some of you have ritual precision around this beverage. It HAS to come from Seattle’s Best, or Dunkin’ Donuts, or some specific place, but not just any place; or perhaps it has to come from your own grinder ground “just so,” neither too fine nor too coarse.

Some of you have run around airports and hotel lobbies and new neighborhoods early in the morning determined to find a specific grande sugar-free vanilla Starbuck’s latte “no matter what.” And you know how every once in a while the grande sugar-free vanilla latte doesn’t taste quite the same, or quite as good, as the last one, but you go back the next day looking for the same thing anyway, because that’s your drink?

That’s devotion. You have it.

We don’t have any problem whatsoever doing that with a latte or knitting. Many people are devoted to their pets. I know a number of guys who are devoted to their cars, or fishing.  But the suggestion that men be devoted to each other, either individually or in groups, seems to make people squirm in their chairs for a moment. Isn’t it curious that a latte should deserve our attention without much thought given to the matter, while a human being makes the matter entirely too complicated to consider.

But the practice of showing up for each other, fully present, with careful and precise attention to detail, right on time, regardless of how we’re feeling, “no matter what,” day after day, time after time, can be exhilarating, ecstatic, life-changing. If we do for each other what we do for our lattes, just that much, it changes our world.

The practice of devotion can stimulate and induce what is described by Csíkszentmihályi as “flow state,” a truly delightful condition to be in:

“In his seminal work, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, Csíkszentmihályi outlines his theory that people are most happy when they are in a state of flow— a state of concentration or complete absorption with the activity at hand and the situation. It is a state in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter. The idea of flow is identical to the feeling of being in the zone or in the groove. The flow state is an optimal state of intrinsic motivation, where the person is fully immersed in what he or she is doing. This is a feeling everyone has at times, characterized by a feeling of great absorption, engagement, fulfillment, and skill—and during which temporal concerns (time, food, ego-self, etc.) are typically ignored.” (click here for full Wikipedia reference.)

Devotion, like kindness, is a practice, not a state of being. You won’t get it perfect on the first try, or ever, for that matter, so don’t walk away complaining that you tried it and it doesn’t work, like a kid who spent 20 seconds on a bicycle before declaring “I can’t do it.” Practice. Come back to it again and again.

Who are you devoted to? I’m not talking about infatuation or obsession or attraction; I’m talking about devotion, a matter of choice and will, rather than mood; an intentional practice in relationship, rather than an accidental consequence. What individual or group would you like to devote yourself to? Who is worthy of having your attention and dedication; who is it that you would like to show up for, “no matter what?”

Try it out. Watch what happens when you pour that same “latte energy” into another human being, or a whole group of them.

Have thoughts you’d like to share?

Touch Practice is a sacred practice for me, and part of that is keeping confidences sacred. While a name and e-mail address are required to post a comment, feel free to use just your first name, or a pseudonym if you wish. Your e-mail address will never be seen by or shared with anyone. It is used to prevent spam and inappropriate comments from appearing in the blog. I’d really like to hear from you!