THE MIND IS EVERYTHING. WHAT YOU THINK, YOU BECOME.
You walk over to your kettle, flick on the pipe for a few seconds, and fill the thing with spring water, fresh from a stream near the garden. Once it's full, you gently set it down on the fire. It's not really a stove, more like an ad hoc kettle heater. You don't eat meat so there is no need for a stove top. The heater brings the water up to temperature quickly. You prefer to drink it hot, using a pain suppressant technique you learned through meditation. Middle Kingdom tea, the best around. In your day, travellers mention that in some lands, it is known as 'chai tea', but that's what
you call tea. Why would they need to say tea twice? How odd. The tea packet is round and flat, meant to sit at the very bottom of the simple ceramic cup you use, allowing the leaves and water to fully blend. Sadly, you cannot claim the glory of invention for this marvellous creation. It was, however, a fellow monk.
Sitting full lotus, you choose not to mediate, but simply think. About things. The monastery, other monks, other paths, the garden, your studies. Anything. You find yourself, after some time, thinking about you. Though you'd say this is your ego rearing its ugly head, you yield just this once. What kind of monk are you, anyway? What is your discipline?
- You are a spiritual monk devoted to the Path to Enlightenment.
- You are a warrior monk, with a vast knowledge of martial techniques and the ability to manipulate ki.
- You are an ethereal monk who studies the potential of the mind and soul, wielding the energies contained within both.
And...
- You are the monastery's sole inhabitant.
- You are one of a handful of the monastery's inhabitants.
- You are one of a large number of the monastery's inhabitants.
Oh. Right. Of course. This tea is so good it has you forgetting things. That's when you know you have the perfect brew. You resist the urge to slap your mother. Well, you don't know her, but if you did, you feel like you'd want to slap her due to the tea being so good. Why? The ego sure is strange sometimes.
A/N: I'm with Cinder. Would've preferred the orange robe, but the readers have spoken!