Tea, Waves, and a Phone Case
- Michelle Rae Sobi
- May 29
- 2 min read
What is already here?
Some projects begin with a grand vision.
Others begin with a clear phone case, a sheet of origami paper, and a cup of tea.
Recently, I activated an older iPhone as my personal phone. The work phone remains just that...work. The new setup is part of an ongoing experiment in reclaiming time, creating boundaries, and allowing more space for the things that nourish me.
When searching for a new phone case, I found myself drawn less toward luxury brands and more toward the idea of creating something personal.
On my desk sat a package of Hokusai-inspired origami paper.
Nearby sat a copy of Naikan: Gratitude, Grace, and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection.
And so the experiment began.
No paint.
No glue.
No permanent commitment.
I simply slipped a section of the paper inside a clear MagSafe case and began moving it around.
A little to the left.
A little to the right.
A little more wave.
A little less mountain.
Eventually, a composition emerged.
The dark wave settled within the MagSafe circle. The cream paper created breathing room. The Sierra Blue phone became part of the artwork itself. The frosted case softened everything, giving the paper the appearance of a faded print rather than a simple insert.
What surprised me most was not the final design.
It was the process.
There was no goal beyond curiosity.
No deadline.
No expectation that it needed to become anything.
Just the simple act of playing with placement and seeing what felt right.
In many ways, this mirrors the spirit of Naikan practice.
Rather than asking, “How can I improve this?”
The question becomes, “What do I notice?”
What am I receiving?
What is already here?
The resulting phone case is not perfect.
It was never meant to be.
It is temporary.
The paper can be removed and replaced at any time. Next season it may become autumn leaves. Winter snow. A crane folded from another sheet of paper.
That impermanence is part of its charm.
We often assume meaningful objects must be expensive, rare, or permanent.
Yet sometimes meaning emerges from attention rather than cost.
A clear case.
A sheet of paper.
A few quiet moments.
Enough to transform an ordinary object into something that carries a story.
Perhaps that is the invitation.
To notice what is already around us.
To make small things beautiful.
To leave room for experimentation.
And to remember that not every creative act needs to become a product.
Sometimes it is enough to sit with tea in hand, pups nearby, and simply see what emerges.
Students enrolled in our program may send a Slack DM to Michelle or those interested in enrolling are invited to send a CHAT to begin a conversation.
