(Tea Traveller‘s mystical tale.)

1. A Sleep That Cannot Be Forgiven

“Do you know what true fear is?” asked Monk Huike, skillfully arranging tea leaves in the cups. “It’s when you meditate for ten hours straight and then realize you’ve been dozing off with your eyes open for the last two.”

“That’s not fear, that’s zen,” scoffed Bodhidharma, sitting against the cave wall, replaying his disgrace in his mind for the hundredth time that day.

He had really fallen asleep. The great teacher, who had come from India to transmit the highest teaching, had closed his eyes for just a moment and found himself in a semi-astral state where the Buddha was somehow handing out autographs. But the worst part—the monks had noticed. Which meant that now history would record this moment not as “Nine Years of Bodhidharma’s Meditation” but as “Nine Years Minus Two Hours of Sleep.”

“Maybe you should just have some oolong tea?” Huike suggested. “They say it’s better at keeping you awake than a staff strike to the skull.”

“Tea is for those unwilling to sacrifice a part of themselves,” Bodhidharma dismissed the idea.

His eyelids grew heavier. He saw their reflection in the water—traitors, ready to send him back to the realm of dreams at any moment. And then an idea was born in his mind, so insane that even the local fox spirits, famous for their magical transformations, would have gasped in admiration.

2. Operation “Farewell, Eyelids”

“Master, are you serious?” Huike asked worriedly when he saw Bodhidharma with a sharpened knife.

“Absolutely,” Bodhidharma answered calmly. “The true path requires sacrifices.”

“But maybe you could just wash your face with cold water more often? Or… try coffee?”

“What is coffee?”

“I don’t know. Probably something from the future,” Huike shrugged. “But definitely something that could save your eyelids.”

“Let the future deal with its own coffee,” Bodhidharma scoffed. “I am here and now.”

And with those words, without flinching, he ran the blade across his eyelids. They fell to the ground in slow motion, trembling in the grass like the last illusions of the mind.

“Great Bodhidharma…” Huike whispered. “You no longer have eyelids.”

“At last,” the monk smiled. “No more sleep shall ever claim me.”

But Huike looked thoughtfully at the fallen eyelids. They seemed to twitch, as if undecided whether to fade into oblivion or remain part of a great story.

3. The Tea Bush That Shouldn’t Exist

That night, as Bodhidharma meditated, now completely unable to blink, and Huike slept peacefully, the eyelids began to grow.

At first, it was just a thin sprout. But by morning, a full tea bush had taken root where the eyelids had fallen.

“Huike, what is this?” Bodhidharma asked, staring at the plant.

“Looks like… tea,” Huike said in amazement. “Maybe we shouldn’t touch it? Who knows what else might grow if other body parts are sacrificed.”

“No,” Bodhidharma chuckled. “If this has grown from my eyelids, there must be a meaning in it.”

He plucked a few leaves, brewed them in boiling water, and took a sip.

“Well?” Huike asked curiously.

“It’s like drinking wakefulness, steeped in emptiness,” Bodhidharma said. “Now I understand why the world never sleeps.”

4. Zen and Tea Marketing

Word of the tea bush spread quickly among the monks. They came to try “Bodhidharma’s Eyelids”—as the new variety was called. Some, however, complained that after drinking it, they couldn’t sleep even after 24 hours of meditation.

“Master, we could sell this!” Huike suggested enthusiastically. “Imagine: ‘Bodhidharma’s Tea—A Hundred Years of Wisdom, Not a Minute of Sleep!’”

“You really think tea and zen are compatible with marketing?” Bodhidharma asked skeptically.

“Why not?” Huike shrugged. “I hear that in the future, everything is sold. Even enlightenment.”

“Then let the future worry about that,” Bodhidharma sighed. “We will just drink tea.”

But as he took the next sip, a strange vision unfolded before him—a world where monks sat in coffee shops, typing on glowing boards, ordering “matcha lattes” through mysterious devices.

“Is this the future?” he asked a monk sitting next to him.

“This is marketing hell,” the monk replied. “But yes, in a way.”

5. A Journey to the Future and Back

“What is this place?” Bodhidharma asked, looking around.

“This is the 21st century,” a voice answered. “Here, your teaching has become a hashtag, and tea has turned into a brand.”

“That sounds horrible,” Bodhidharma sighed. “But at least no one sleeps, right?”

“Everyone sleeps. Even at work. They drink tea, of course. But now they stay awake only to scroll endlessly through the internet.”

“What is the internet?” he frowned.

“It’s like endless meditation, but without meaning,” the voice explained.

Bodhidharma sighed deeply.

“And what will happen to my eyelids?” he asked.

“They will be made into a special edition tea collection,” the voice chuckled. “‘Bodhi’s Eyelids Limited Edition.’”

“Time to go back,” Bodhidharma said firmly.

6. The Way Back and the Final Sip

Returning to his time, he poured himself another cup of tea and gazed at it for a long time.

“Maybe I should just renounce everything?” he murmured. “Stop being a teacher, stop being a symbol…”

“But then who would teach us?” Huike asked.

“Someone else,” Bodhidharma chuckled. “As for me, I think I’ll just finish my tea.”

“And what then?” Huike asked.

“Then? Then I’ll just close my eyes.”

“But… you don’t have eyelids.”

“Then I’ll just stare into the void,” Bodhidharma smiled.

And the tea in his cup trembled, as if agreeing with him.

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