Inhabiting the Moment

As it turned out the Bayfield pennisula was safely north of the snow zone. Hayward, a town 70 miles south of us, received about 14 inches of snow. Our accumulation? An inch. Perhaps.

The vast majority of people I talked to regarding our lack of snow said: That's alright with me. We slid through spring equinox last weekend and virtually everyone is all wintered out. Snow, begone!

My two T'ai Chi Chih classes went well this evening. Last week I invited advanced students to bring in articles or Taoist readings they're like to share with the group. Ask and you shall receive.

Tonight a student brought in and read to the group a wonderful contribution from The Second Book of the Tao. Entry 5 (p. 10) begins:

The ancient Masters saw deeply.
How deep was their insight?
They realized that nothing exists.
This is perfect understanding.

I harkened back to the reading during our group practice. So often I see students (and myself!?!) trying to accomplish something through their movements. Perhaps they decide that the movement needs to look a certain way or proceed at a certain pace or, more often, they aren't really aware of what they're doing at all.

What happens when we realize that there is nothing to do? Nowhere to go? What do we experience when we decide that we don't need to shape or manipulate our movements?

We must learn to have patience, to inhabit the movements in all of their fullness, and to trust that the practice will unfold as it is meant to. Since nothing persists we must inhabit this moment, this movement, now....