Don't Think, Just Do

At last night's TCC class I described to my students a recent image I've held in my mind that reflects how I imagine my body moving during practice. Plain and simple: my t'an tien is like a bellows that expands and contracts to build the power of the chi as I move.

Though it seems odd, I recognize that when my legs straighten and bend, when my weight goes forward and back and I move up and down, when my waist bends and my t'an tien tips and tilts forward and back as I rise and fall, my body reflects the actions of a bellows squeezing air toward burning coals in order to build the flames of a fire. This image has only recently come to me after my TCC retreat experience in the Twin Cities at the end of January. And, typically, I notice this bellows effect while I'm performing movements like Bird Flaps its Wings, Wrist Circle Taffy, Light at the Top of the Head/Light at the Temples ... some of the more stationary movements in the form.

Okay, I've thought to myself, maybe I'm a little crazy imagining TCC in this way. Today, however, I pulled Practical Taoism, translated by Thomas Cleary, off my shelves. I opened to a book marker on page 40, obviously a section that I'd read years ago and thought important. It stated:

The bellows

     The Tao Te Ching says, 'The space between heaven and earth is like a bellows, empty and uninhibited, producing more and more with movement.'
     The Treatise on the Rise and Descent of Yin and Yang says, 'If people can emulate the rising and falling bellows action of heaven and earth, breath going out when opening, breath going in when closing [i.e., Light at the Top of the Head/Light at the Temples], the going out like the energy of earth rising, the going in like the energy of heaven descending, rising and descending alternately, then you can equal the perpetuity of heaven and earth.'
     If you know how to pump a bellows but not how to tune true breathing.... How will you snatch the wholesome energy of heaven and earth to crystallize the elixir?

Clearly this passage is something to think about as I open and close my wrists during the Lights. Without consciously realizing it, am I doing as this quote says by allowing the earth energy to rise as I open my palms and also allowing the energy of heaven to flow into me as my palms come back together? ... I shall observe and notice what I experience in coming practices.

Tonight's practice in my office was wonderfully calming. The energy in my palms was alive throughout most of the form. Why, I wonder, do I feel the energy so clearly sometimes and not at other times?

Of course, I could also ask myself, Why do I feel my mind calm and relaxed sometimes and not at other times? Immediately a phrase pops into my head that I remember my mother repeating to me at various times throughout my childhood: "Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die." Now that, my friends, reminds me of TCC practice: You don't need to think about it, just do it....

A Peace that Passes Understanding

I prefaced tonight's class with my own private practice before students arrived. Our class meets on the third floor of the Cultural Center in Washburn which means I literally had a birds' eye view of Lake Superior. The sun came out in late afternoon after a dreary, overcast, looks-like-rain kind of day. The rain never arrived--though we desperately needed it--and the late day sunshine and warm-up felt good after the morning's grey coolness.

Class was, once again, special. (When isn't it?) We started with questions about various aspects of the form and the fundamentals of the movements and then segued into a super-slow, super-relaxed practice session. By the end my head was in a different place.

One student mentioned after class that he almost didn't come because he felt so scattered and distracted that he didn't think he'd be a very good student. I responded, Well, I almost didn't come either because I had a headache and didn't think I'd be a very good teacher. Frankly, I'm glad we both were there because I believe we both felt better in the end.

After all my years of teaching t'ai chi chih moving meditation I'm still astonished by the magic that settles over a room when my students and I move together in silence. It's a gift ... a blessing ... a peace that passes understanding....

Each Day is a God

Darkness settles upon another day. As nighttime deepens I practice t'ai chi chih moving meditation, look out a second story window, and notice one piece of sky that holds onto the light longer than the rest. In that one spot light lingers, lingers, lingers ... then disappears. Night crept quietly into daylight's terrain then captured it.

I'm alone in the house. The dog barks repeatedly just outside giving notice regarding property rights ... no trespassers allowed. Between the sounding barks I slip through TCC movements as quietly and slowly as daytime turned into night.

My body is tired; my knees, sore; my back, stiff. I'm grateful for this day and, too, its coming to a close. Perhaps Annie Dillard says it best (Earth Prayers, p. 40):

Every day is a god, each day is a god,
and holiness holds forth in time.
I worship each god,
I praise each day splintered down,
and wrapped in time like a husk, ...

Part and Parcel

It's been a quiet, magical day of rest. Truly. I need days like this to regenerate, relax, and release all the busyness and noise of the previous week.

We own a TV for the sole purpose of watching DVDs and videos; normally I listen to the radio over the weekend, especially when I cook or wash dishes. Today, though, even radio news and information seemed too much. I'm not much of a conversationalist when I'm in this mood; Frances spends time gardening, raking, and working in the yard as I read, nap, and do my TCC practice.

When I stand out on the deck to ready myself for practice, I notice that purple finches, goldfinches, and juncos have reclaimed the bird feeders. Although they live in the region year round, it's only recently that they've returned to our neighborhood. Their bright, highly visible coloration is a welcome addition to the regular population of black and white chickadees and nuthatches that are our unfailing friends and sunflower seed eaters.

Today's early sunshine and 70+ temperatures cooled and collapsed beneath a ceiling of clouds. My t'ai chi chih practice flowed softly and slowly beneath this greyed out scene with bud-tipped branches spanning the skies. Occasionally I felt as if I were being watched and, when I raised my eyes, I noticed several dark bird silhouettes sharing a branch above me. Then I, too, became part and parcel of the sounds of silence.

Morning Gladness

I awakened this morning to loud, joyous bird song. I could choose: join the boisterous choir on the deck or miss out on this glorious celebration of a new day.

Though the temps were low (30ish), the air was calm--no breeze--and I heard the fauna of the forest. Woodpecker rhythms echoed through naked branches, songbirds trilled, two flocks of geese passed overhead, and ruffed grouse flapped their wings.

If you've never heard the sound of a ruffed grouse courting his mate, it's distinctive. Imagine a tractor starting its motor. As the ignition is switched on and gas circulates you hear the putt-putt-putt of a motor coming to life. My Birds of Wisconsin book says of ruffed grouse:

In spring, males raise crest on head, fan tail feathers and stand on logs and drum wings to attract females. Drumming sound comes from cupped wings moving air, not pounding on chest or log.

Let me just say ... there were a lot of miniature tractors out there in the woods starting their engines this morning.

I chose a spot on the deck in clear view of a flat grey sheet of Lake Superior water. It lay beneath an equally grey sky that shifted and stirred itself into separate pieces as I moved through my practice. I heard the sound of one car passing on the road below me; it whooshed by like a misplaced tornado rushing along the pavement.

My morning song was one of quiet listening. I noted the sounds of wild creatures making their way through the woods and following light, earth, and air into the day and I felt the gladness surrounding me.

Loving What is ...

Tonight's t'ai chi chih practice felt good for my body and my mind. I began practice feeling tired; now, at least, I'm relaxed and alert. The refinements and adjustments that I've made to my practice since January's TCC retreat are now integrated into my movements and feel natural and easy....

Didn't this day begin months ago rather than mere hours ago? Frances and I picked up our taxes from the accountant this afternoon and mailed in our business taxes as well as providing written approval for our acountant's office to email our personal taxes directly to the IRS. What a relief to complete that last huge step toward finalizing this year's taxes!

Yesterday a neighbor told us that the bar across the road from our house closed down. The liquor license was sold to the VFW hall in Red Cliff so it's unlikely that there will be another bar across the road any time soon. So, too, the issue of exotic dancing at said bar is now a moot point. Talk about yin-yang. What seemed objectionable and unappealing one year ago has now resolved into a non-issue.

Our desired candidate for county board won at Tuesday's election. What I'm beginning to realize, however, is that there is no such thing as winning or losing since everything is relative as it cycles back and forth and around and around. What I'm learning g-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y is this: accepting and loving what is may be the best strategy of all.

Those Who Know Do Not Talk

We're back in the deep freeze ... otherwise known as springtime in the North Woods. Temps in the mid-20s with no snow and abundant sunshine. I donned my long underwear, a winter jacket, and hat and gloves for my drive to Cornucopia for our TCC session. This morning's class practice began at a rapid pace and gradually decelerated. By midway through the form the group energy felt calmer, slower, more relaxed.

Today's discussion of the Tao centered on Verse 56, what Wayne Dyer calls "Living by Silent Knowing." The first two lines of this verse, notes Dyer, are so popular that they're almost a cliche:

Those who know do not talk.
Those who talk do not know.

Dyer explains further:

Silence is your evidence of inner knowing. Talking to convince others actually says more about your need to be right than their need to hear what you have to say! So rather than trying to persuade others, keep quiet ... just enjoy that deeply satisfying inner awareness.

When our group discussion turned to the question, How does this verse relate to your t'ai chi chih practice?, there was an intricate weave of comments about Monkey Mind, listening to Self, listening to others, what we hear and/or think as we move through our TCC practice, and more.

One student commented that she seldom thinks about things while she practices. Instead, she allows herself to feel her body, the movements, and her sense of connection to the Oneness. It's striking when you watch her move. A smile lights her face. A feeling of calmness and letting go surrounds and circulates out from her. And you know ... she has reached that place where no words are necessary.