East West - The Asian American Lifestyle Magazine

By Kathy A. McDonald 

Entering Mrs. Sosei Matsumoto’s traditional Japanese-style tearoom is a journey to another time and place, one that is serene and ordered, where people are impeccably polite and respectful of each other. It is here that the 86-year-old sensei (teacher) continues to meticulously instruct students in the 450-year-old Urasenke tradition of Chado or way of tea.

Preparing and serving a perfect bowl of tea sounds simple enough, but the Japanese way of tea is a truly complex discipline, one that incorporates the most exquisite Japanese arts and crafts and exemplifies the culture’s ideal etiquette and taste. At the heart of the ceremony is the Zen Buddhist principle that enlightenment can be achieved even in the most mundane task. 

Lessons learned in the practice of tea are meant to infuse one’s life. “People, human beings, respect each other (when practicing tea),” explains Mrs. Matsumoto, one of America’s most revered tea teachers and an inspiration to students for more than 55 years. “There is no enemy; there is peaceful harmony. This is the tea. We try to make peace,” she adds. Her words echo the teachings of the 15th Urasenke tea master, Soshitsu Sen XV, who advised, “It is a ritual of simplicity and economy, developed to meet man’s need for inner tranquility, wherein all can find peacefulness through a bowl of tea.”

Over the centuries, the ceremonial practice and preparation of tea has evolved. In the 13th century, Zen Buddhist monks returning from study in China brought green powdered tea to Japan, as well as the spiritual foundation of the way of tea. Today’s practitioners are part of a verbal and aesthetic tradition that dates to 16th century Kyoto, Japan, where Sen Rikyu established the basic principles of Chado: harmony, respect, purity and tranquility.

Many of Mrs. Matsumoto’s students today are doctors, engineers and business people who savor the opportunity to truly decompress. “The more you use your brain, the more you need tea,” Mrs. Matsumoto says. Some students, such as her translator Keiko Nakada Sokei and ceramicist Julie Bagish, have studied with her for decades. Others, such as tea importer Fumi Sugita, have recently begun their practice.  

Close to downtown Los Angeles, on a side street that’s seen better days, is Mrs. Matsumoto’s unlikely oasis, set in the last of the original 1920s- era homes that once dotted this formerly majestic neighborhood. Most single-family homes have been torn down and replaced by apartments, and security bars now encase the windows of the tearoom. 

Despite its urban setting, the bamboo and cedar wood tearoom feels like a sanctuary. Spanish conversation drifts in from the apartments next door, but nothing disturbs the sensei’s concentration. Voices remain low and respectful; she is always addressed as sensei. No gesture is too small or insignificant to be done correctly. “No good,” she admonishes a student. A palm straight up, a napkin unfolded with a flick of the wrist, the whisking of the green tea powder (matcha) and water — all is choreographed. To the uninitiated, the adjustments are imperceptible. “You’re not ambitious, always calm and natural,” Mrs. Matsumoto explains of a participant’s ultimate demeanor.

Born in Hawaii, Mrs. Matsumoto was visiting Japan when World War II began. She spent the war studying in Kyoto with the 14th grand master. Since moving to her home in 1953, she has taught thousands of students and given out more than 300 tea names – reflecting a higher level of training.

Chado is not mastered quickly; there are no shortcuts, which is tough for many to accept. “There is no high speed,” Mrs. Matsumoto says. “But once students get used to the way of tea, it changes them and they forget the outside world.” Essentially, the idea is to master one’s self. Everyday life is encapsulated in the tea ceremony. It shows how we should live. And students find the more they study, the more they have to learn. 

A Japanese ceremonial tea encompasses many arts: Utensils and décor vary with the seasons—all have meaning and significance. Each item, such as a tea bowl or flower arrangement, becomes a thing of beauty. For instance, in the transitional month of October, an autumn tea is observed: Ceramics are rustic with a brown-colored glaze. In winter, a corner of the tatami mat flooring will come up and the hearth will be sunken. In March, the hearth once again will be raised and returned to the room, rising up as the weather warms. Shoji doors enclose the room in winter, bamboo screens in spring.

Nature is represented, freshness and purity emphasized. In the small alcove (tokonoma) of the tearoom sits a minimal arrangement of flowers. Ideally, they should appear just picked, cut while the dew was still on them. All the elements are present: fire in the hearth where the water boils, the air of the room, earth in the walls and water in the tea. 

Each scroll that hangs in the alcove has a special, meditative message. One day, it is “every day a good day.”  The flowers and scroll help create the tearoom atmosphere that contributes to the calming of heart and spirit, says Mrs. Matsumoto. While her hand-built tearoom is a craftsman’s marvel, there are no nails, just traditional Japanese wood joinery, a tearoom can be created in any space, she advises. “Roll out a tatami mat, hang a scroll, have one flower.  You don’t need furniture; a tea room is simplicity itself.”

The diminutive but spirited octogenarian doesn’t see herself retiring, “until life retires.” Many tea masters are 99 or 100 years old, she says. If anything, she wants to be reborn, so she can do it all over again until the entire world has Urasenke tea because it is “a beautiful feeling, no enemy, everybody beautiful people.”