Stillness on the Chataku: Kokoro Beneath the Yunomi

A lidded porcelain yunomi resting on a wooden chataku, placed on a solid wood table Objects
A porcelain yunomi with lid set on a wooden chataku atop a solid wood table

By Kokoro Still

A yunomi may stand alone.
But when it rests on a chataku,
the cup carries more than tea—
a circle that breathes beneath it.

Not only warmth or moisture,
but the quiet pause of care,
a still breath before the first sip.

Here, Kokoro lingers,
not in the tea alone,
but in the space below,
where silence gathers,
and memory takes root.

In Japan, a yunomi is commonly placed on a chataku,
especially in moments of welcome.

Lacquered, wooden, or metal,
it catches heat and drops,
quietly keeping the table unharmed.

Yet more softly, it offers respect.

The cup is warm,
and the chataku quietly receives it.

Unlike a coaster for cold drinks,
or a Western saucer bound to a set,
the chataku always carries presence in silence.

A Sound at Arrival

I remember a ryokan in autumn.
The maid set a yunomi on a dark wooden chataku.

A faint sound—
ceramic meeting wood, a small koton.

The lid held a quiet warmth.
The cup waited, calm gathered within.

Beneath it, the chataku held steady,
quietly supporting what the hands could not.

The Receiving Circle

A chataku receives without holding.
The cup may sweat,
a drop may fall,
but the chataku does not complain.

It is a circle made not to possess,
but to allow rest.

Even when the cup is heavy,
the chataku remains light—
a presence so quiet that we almost forget it.

Yet without it,
the offering of tea feels incomplete.

Silence Beneath Warmth

When guests arrive,
the yunomi is offered with both hands.

And beneath it,
a chataku quietly carries what words cannot.

It says: “Rest here.”
It says: “You are welcome.”

No sound,
only the warmth above,
and the silence beneath.

In this layering,
Kokoro is present.

Sip, and Rest Again

The yunomi is lifted,
brought to the lips,
then set back upon the chataku.

With each sip,
warmth is shared,
and silence gathers beneath the cup.

When the yunomi rests empty,
the chataku still supports it without change.

What remains is not only the silence of an ended sip,
but Kokoro—
a quiet support that endures,
long after the tea is gone,
holding even the memory of warmth.

Featured image: The image was created by AI (ChatGPT)

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