I bought some tea at the farmer’s market near my sister’s the other day.  “Take Charge Tea,” made of oat straw, lavender and lemon balm.  I had had some at my sister’s the night before, and it seemed pleasant enough, and a good bedtime tea.

I got a little itchy when the back of the package promised it to be a “balancing, emotionally uplifting, sleep aid and nerve tonic.”  And that’s not all!  “Oatstraw is a very high source of calcium.”  And then it veers into imperatives:  “Take charge of moodiness, insomnia and hormone imbalance.”

I made a pot after cleaning about 70% of my apartment tonight, waiting for my duvet cover to finish jumping around in the dryer so I could make my bed.  A nice little ritual, I thought.  And then, when I opened the package, I found a little plastic bag.  In it seemed to be a little… stone.

It’s clear, so you can’t see it, but it’s on the counter there in front of the package.  A little crystal.  Which, I discovered on the package label, is a “clear quartz crystal [that] has been charged with the healing intention of each tea blend.”

I can’t decide if it’s deeply First World to have this beautifully packaged, artisinal, lovingly-hand-crafted, intention-infused, meaning-saturated, clump of dried leaves and sticks —  or the product of some kind of Fibonacci spiral into the pre-industrial as an attempt to escape complexity. I have to say, it appeals to me that a pot of tea could solve all my emotional ills and terrible sleep hygiene — and strengthen my bones to boot!


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