Rooted in What is Real

Today's fresh fallen snow whitened and brightened the landscape. Nevertheless, library patrons commented that they felt ready for the snow to be gone. Typically, March is the month when we receive our greatest accumulation of snow. After the next few weeks it's likely that we'll move from snow and ice season into the stickiness and stuckiness of mud.

This morning's TCC practice was a needed respite from overwhelming feelings of tiredness. For one-half hour all was well with the world. Or, at the very least, everything slowed down.

A student brought Stephen Mitchell's The Second Book of the Tao to class last week. I began reading through it today and found it wonderfully simple and enlightening. This book, published in 2009, adapts the teachings of Lao-tzu's disciple Chuang-tzu and Confucius' grandson Tzu-ssu. What emerges is a fresh, humorous, insightful, and easily accessible look at the Tao.

Here's an example, Verse 18 (p. 36):

Step beyond yourself.
Step beyond the whole world.
Step beyond all existence.
When you penetrate that far,
you will shine with the original brightness.
You will realize that you are alone
in the vast universe
and that all things are nothing but you.
You will slough off past and present
and will enter the place
where there is neither being nor non-being.

The Master remains peaceful
in the midst of continual change.
There is nothing that can disturb her,
nothing that she finds unacceptable.
She welcomes all beings,
watches as they come and go,
and stays rooted in what is real.

That, my friends, is what happens when we keep returning to our T'ai Chi Chih practice. We learn, moment by moment, how to stay rooted in what is real....

All is "One"derful

Wind ~, wind ~, and more ~ ~ ~ (wind). The drive to Cornucopia this morning was beautiful; yellow grasses and red dogwood branches glorified the ditches and yards with their dramatic colors.

Thankfully, rain no longer dripped from the sky. When I drove over the hill into Corny, I saw whitecaps on Lake Superior as they bounced from horizon to shore. There's a subtle sense of excitement in the air when the lake's waters dance and churn. And, though I drove right by, I could feel my energy rev up in an automatic response to the lake's frenetic call.

Once again, our class had an interesting conversation about Verse 74 of the Tao, "Living with No Fear of Death" (per Wayne Dyer). The verse begins:

If you realize that all things change,
there is nothing you will try to hold on to.
If you are not afraid of dying,
there is nothing you cannot achieve.

Dyer's distillation of the entire verse results in two main premises: Discontinue fearing your death. Examine the ways you kill (p. 353). Is it possible that T'ai Chi Chih practice helps us--its practitioners--to release ourselves into the inconstancy of life as we move from one form to the next, yinning and yanging through it all?

Perhaps part of the power of TCC practice is its ability to allow us to die to our ego. When we do so--even if it's simply for a few moments or minutes during our TCC practice--we can feel the Oneness, move as One, and be happy with this One moment we inhabit together ... Now.

Dyer quoted Neale Donald Walsch from his book, Communion with God at the end of this chapter. Walsch's Onederful words are a gift and an inspiration:

     Which snowflake is the most magnificent? Is it possible that they are all magnificent--and that, celebrating their magnificence together they create an awesome display? Then they melt into each other, and into the Oneness. Yet they never go away. They never disappear. They never cease to be. Simply, they change form. And not just once, but several times: from solid to liquid, from liquid to vapor, from the seen to the unseen, to rise again, and then again to return in new displays of breathtaking beauty and wonder. This is Life, nourishing Life.
     This is you.... For you are each wondrous indeed, yet no one more wondrous than another. And you all will one day melt into the Oneness, and know then that you form together a single stream.

Isn't that what T'ai Chi Chih teaches and reminds us? That we are all snowflakes, each one unique and different from the rest. When we gather our energies together and join in a group practice, we are invited to melt into that Oneness (it feels good). This is Life, nourishing Life.

Happy Mind

Leaves fall with each heavy exhalation of air. They clatter and scatter themselves along driveways, roads, sidewalks, and decks. Treetops are balding, leaf piles are gathering, and each day I feel myself walking one step closer to winter.

This morning Frances and I took a walk in splendid sunshine. After work, then, I dived into my T'ai Chi Chih practice in the gathering darkness. I'm continuing to prepare for two advanced TCC class start-ups this week. Each time I practice I discover new ways to explain how to move using images and ideas that are easy for students to understand.

I'm re-reading and reviewing the Tao too. This week: Verse 71, "Living without Sickness" (per Wayne Dyer). Here's Stephen Mitchell's version of Lao Tzu's short and sweet verse:

Not-knowing is true knowledge.
Presuming to know is a disease.
First realize that you are sick;
then you can move toward health.

The Master is her own physician.
She has healed herself of all knowing.
Thus she is truly whole.

Dyer distills this verse down to two core messages: 1) have a happy mind and 2) examine your habits and really listen to and trust the messages from your body.

No question about it ... T'ai Chi Chih moving meditation practice helps me to cultivate a Tao-centered happy mind (Dyer, p. 337). When I dwell in that state of happiness, my body can rest in health, wellness, and happiness too. (Sometimes that is easier said than done but it is a worthy goal.)

Going Forward without Advancing ...

Breezy coolness today after a stretch of too-humid days. It was so breezy this morning that the wind tipped and tilted me several times during our outdoor TCC class practice. Remember the root.

Twelve students attended class, the largest group practice this session. There were moments when our silent, peaceful, and coordinated movements felt like they'd been designed by a master choreographer. Quiet joy pervaded our circle....

Wayne Dyer titled today's verse of the Tao te Ching (Verse 69), "Living without Enemies." Stephen Mitchell translates this verse as:

The generals have a saying:
'Rather than make the first move
it is better to wait and see.
Rather than advance an inch
it is better to retreat a yard.'

This is called
going forward without advancing,
pushing back without using weapons....

When two great forces oppose each other,
the victory will go
to the one that knows how to yield.

One student pointed out in today's discussion that we are constantly "going forward without advancing" in our TCC practice. In Push/Pull, for instance, we shift our weight to the forward foot at the same time that we press forward with both palms. We always leave some weight on the foot behind us and, though our hands extend out in front of us, our center (t'an tien) is located midway between our furthest forward point (our extended palms) and our rear foot. We can easily retreat, if need be, because we have gone forward without advancing.

T'ai Chi Chih practice reminds us of our unity as we flow into this dance of Oneness. Can you image fighting or battling when you're in the middle of your TCC practice? No. Why is this? Because you've taken yourself beyond polarities and merged yin with yang to create wholeness. Doesn't that feel better and more productive than making enemies, fighting endless battles, or being the victor?