Soaring upwards
Can be like reaching down

Pushing forward

Can be like pushing back

Going right

Can be like Going left

Within is within

All things begin

And end at the cross roads

–GraalBaum 2013



This world-mountain was Nizir to the Chaldeans, Olympus to the Greeks, Hara Berezaiti to the Persians of the Avesta, the later Alborz and Elburz; a transfer, as says Mme. Ragozin, of ‘mythical heavenly geography to the earth.’ This mountain—the solar hill of the Egyptians—we shall again refer to in the next two or three chapters. At its apex springs, the heaven tree on which the solar bird is perched. From its roots spring the waters of life—the celestial sea, which, rushing adown the firmament, supplies the ocean which circumscribes the earth or falls directly in rain. At their fountain these springs are guarded by a goddess. In Egypt Nut, the goddess of the oversea, leans from the branches of the heavenly persea and pours forth the celestial water. In the Vedas, Yama, lord of the waters, sits in the highest heaven in the midst of the heavenly ocean under the tree of life, which drops the nectar Soma, and here, on the ‘navel of the waters,’ matter first took form. In the Norse, the central tree Yggdrasil has at its roots the spring of knowledge guarded by the Norns, the northern Fates; two swans the parents of all those of earth, float there. In Chaldea the mighty tree of Eridu, centre of the world, springs by the waters. The Avesta gives a very complete picture—Iran is at the centre of the seven countries of the world; it was the first created, and so beautiful, that were it not that God has implanted in all men a love for their own land, all nations would crowd into this the loveliest land. To the east somewhere, but still at the centre of the world, rises the ‘Lofty Mountain,’ from which all the mountains of the earth have grown, ‘High Haraiti;’ at its

summit is the gathering place of waters, out of which spring the two trees, the heavenly Haoma (Soma), and another tree which bears all the seeds that germinate on earth. This heavenly mountain is called ‘Navel of Waters,’ for the fountain of all waters springs there, guarded by a majestic and beneficent goddess. In Buddhist accounts, the waters issue in four streams like the

Eden from this reservoir, and flow to the cardinal points, each making one complete circuit in its descent. In the Persian Bundahish there are two of these heavenly rivers flowing east and west. To the Hindus the Ganges is such a heavenly stream. ‘The stream of heaven was called by the Greeks Achelous.’ The Nile in Egypt, the Hoang-Ho in China, and the Jordan to the Jews, seem to have been celestial rivers. This mountain of heaven is often figured in Christian art with the four rivers issuing from under the Throne of God.

Sir John Maundeville gives an account of the earthly Paradise quite perfect in its detailed scheme. It is the highest place on earth, nearly reaching to the circle of the moon (as in Dante), and the flood did not reach it. ‘And in the highest place, exactly in the middle, is a well that casts out the four streams’—Ganges, Nile, Tigris, and Euphrates. ‘And men there beyond say that all the sweet waters of the world above and beneath take their beginning from the well of Paradise, and out of that well all water come and go.







One or two Americans have asked me why it is that the English like tea so much, which never seems to them to be a very good drink. To understand, you have to know how to make it properly.

There is a very simple principle to the making of tea and it’s this – to get the proper flavour of tea, the water has to be boiling (not boiled) when it hits the tea leaves. If it’s merely hot then the tea will be insipid. That’s why we English have these odd rituals, such as warming the teapot first (so as not to cause the boiling water to cool down too fast as it hits the pot). And that’s why the American habit of bringing a teacup, a tea bag and a pot of hot water to the table is merely the perfect way of making a thin, pale, watery cup of tea that nobody in their right mind would want to drink. The Americans are all mystified about why the English make such a big thing out of tea because most Americans have never had a good cup of tea. That’s why they don’t understand. In fact the truth of the matter is that most English people don’t know how to make tea any more either, and most people drink cheap instant coffee instead, which is a pity, and gives Americans the impression that the English are just generally clueless about hot stimulants.

So the best advice I can give to an American arriving in England is this. Go to Marks and Spencer and buy a packet of Earl Grey tea. Go back to where you’re staying and boil a kettle of water. While it is coming to the boil, open the sealed packet and sniff. Careful – you may feel a bit dizzy, but this is in fact perfectly legal. When the kettle has boiled, pour a little of it into a tea pot, swirl it around and tip it out again. Put a couple (or three, depending on the size of the pot) of tea bags into the pot (If I was really trying to lead you into the paths of righteousness I would tell you to use free leaves rather than bags, but let’s just take this in easy stages). Bring the kettle back up to the boil, and then pour the boiling water as quickly as you can into the pot. Let it stand for two or three minutes, and then pour it into a cup. Some people will tell you that you shouldn’t have milk with Earl Grey, just a slice of lemon. Screw them. I like it with milk. If you think you will like it with milk then it’s probably best to put some milk into the bottom of the cup before you pour in the tea.1 If you pour milk into a cup of hot tea you will scald the milk. If you think you will prefer it with a slice of lemon then, well, add a slice of lemon.

Drink it. After a few moments you will begin to think that the place you’ve come to isn’t maybe quite so strange and crazy after all.


1 This is socially incorrect. The socially correct way of pouring tea is to put the milk in after the tea. Social correctness has traditionally had nothing whatever to do with reason, logic or physics. In fact, in England it is generally considered socially incorrect to know stuff or think about things. It’s worth bearing this in mind when visiting.


English tea

Tea is of course one of the great British institutions, ranking right up alongside the NHS, the BBC and even the pub*. Although its impact on the national psyche may not quite match that made on the Japanese, who have famously based an entire way of being (chado) around the appreciation of tea, the nation’s reputation for gentility and quiet resolve is surely wrapped up in its ongoing love affair with the noble cup.

Tea was first introduced to the country in 1657, and advertised as a panacea for a preposterously wide range of conditions. It was first sold in coffee houses, which were all the rage at that time, and its popularity didn’t match that of coffee until 1850. The tradition of afternoon tea – taken with cakes and sweets at around 4 o’clock – was started by the Duchess of Bedford in 1840 and has persisted ever since, although it is neither as ubiquitous nor as rigidly defined as many foreigners seem to believe.

The drink known as English tea really has its origins in India, as does the much of the tea it is made from. Indeed, most of the tea in India is consumed in the ‘English’ style, despite the more obvious association with masala chai – spiced tea which is usually known simply as chai in English. Although I am going with the convention of calling this English tea, this is far from exclusively an English tradition – although for some reason tea has never been the hot drink of choice for most Scots. Throughout Britain and Ireland, as well as much of the rest of Europe, most of North America and elsewhere, if someone offers you a cup of tea it is usually safe to assume they mean milky black tea with optional sugar.

Debates on how to make the perfect cup of English tea are never-ending, despite the input of various scientific experts, the International Standards Organisation, and such luminaries as George Orwell and Douglas Adams. However, all serious tea-drinkers are agreed on one issue: The water used must be boiling when it is added to the tea-leaves. This means pouring it straight from the kettle when it has just boiled, and not adding milk alongside a tea-bag in the cup. If you belong to the school of thought which holds that milk should be added to the cup before tea, please – for the love of good tea – only apply this philosophy when brewing in a pot.

Most English tea is made using tea bags full of blended tea – and although both bags and blends may be frowned upon by the snobbier of tea connoisseurs, the truth is that the combination makes for a perfectly good cup of English tea. The blends involved in popular brands such as PG Tips, Tetley and – in Ireland and among its ex-patriate communities – Barry’s Tea tend to consist of one or more Sub-Continental tea, such as Assam or Ceylon, mixed with strong black teas from African countries, most notably Kenya. Traditional English Breakfast tea may be well-known, but it is ill-defined, and may consist of any or all of Assam, Ceylon, Keemun (a black Chinese tea) and sometimes also African tea. Earl Grey is another popular candidate for English tea-making.

English tea is usually made with cow’s milk; besides adding a certain amount of milky flavour, the main effect of this is to remove most of the astringency and bitterness of the tea. This works because the proteins in the milk bind with the tannins (polyphenols) responsible for these flavours, allowing tea to be made much stronger than it otherwise can be while remaining drinkable. Studies suggest that this has the unfortunate side-effect of reducing its antioxidant power, alas. The most popular alternative to cow’s milk is soy milk – which is okay, but liable to curdle a little unless you wait for the tea to cool down before adding it, and ideally add it to the cup before pouring the tea from a pot. Oat milk is better, but harder to find, as is soya cream; rice milk just about does the job, but is usually much lower in protein and hence astringency-removing power.

As I have said, it is possible to make a perfectly good cup of English tea from bags; but loose leaves brewed in a teapot will make even better tea, with a fuller flavour. Blended teas are again fine for this, but you may find that a strong brew of Assam, Ceylon or Kenyan tea is tastier still.

Recent years have seen a fall in the popularity of English tea, hit both by the resurgence of coffee houses (now overwhelmingly branded and sterile affairs, a far cry from the creative, debative hothouses of yesteryear) and by the rising popularity of other kinds of tea – green tea, oolong tea, spiced chai and herbal infusions. However – like the decline of rock and roll in 1990s America – this is a cultural phenomenon of such profundity and endurance that even at its lowest point it is seen everywhere, and it is hard to see this dip as anything but a glitch in the grand scheme of things.

*Why do all these Great British Institutions have three letters, I wonder? Also, I should mention that for some reason tea has never been the hot drink of choice for most Scots.


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