Every so often, I get overwhelmed by the myriad events of life. Those times, non-rational thoughts and feelings of victimization often arise, no doubt from the pre-reptilian part of my brain. Despite all the knowledge gained from readings in psychology, self-help, philosophy, tai chi, spirituality and meditation, it still takes me a lot of effort to stop myself and realize that those thoughts are just that--thoughts and not reality. No one is attacking me; my lot in life is not harder than anyone else's; and all I have to do is take a deep breath, notice what is happening, and I can settle myself down and devote my attention to what's needed. It sounds so easy, but I often forget, and find myself wasting energy tilting at windmills in my mind.
This week, I started listening to a book called "Emotional Alchemy" by Tara Bennett-Goleman. She applies Buddhist psychological principles of mindfulness to her practice as a therapist. We are to face life's crises with equanimity and serene composure. Being without reacting is a theme that comes up, again and again, which resonates with the principles of Taoism I've been reading about, for example verse 12 of the Tao Te Ching:
Colors blind the eye.
Sounds deafen the ear.
Flavors numb the taste.
Thoughts weaken the mind.
Desires wither the heart.
The Master observes the world
but trusts his inner vision.
He allows things to come and go.
His heart is open as the sky.
Our habits and thoughts actually become hard-wired into the neural pathways of our brain. To change, we have to practice new thoughts to lay down new pathways. Our pre-frontal cortex is the most recently evolved part of the brain and is what allows us to take all those chaotic feelings and emotions from the older, reptilian part of our brain, and act in ways that are appropriate.
This might sound mumbo-jumbo to some, but Bennett-Goleman cites the work of John Kabat-Zinn and Richard Davidson who have demonstrated the effects of meditation on the pre-frontal cortex. It turns out that mindfulness and meditation has a physical effect on our brains. The left pre-frontal cortex specifically generates positive feelings and dampens negative feelings. They looked at brain activity of those who practiced meditation and mindfulness and saw more activity in the left prefrontal cortex. The meditation actually made the subject stronger at controlling negative emotions.
A psychologist up the street at the Shambala Center in Washington, DC, told us in a meditation class recently, that it takes about 6 weeks for the beneficial effects of meditation to take effect, which coincidentally is how long it takes the average anti-depressant to take effect.
Which would you choose?
Showing posts with label Yin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yin. Show all posts
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
A Week of Grace
Two weeks ago on Saturday, January 30, 2010, my sister-in-law called me. She was with my brother and father in the emergency room of a hospital in Indiana. My father had fallen in his shower and suffered a blow to his head. He was bleeding in three places in his brain. The ER doctors had just told them that my father's condition was mortal: he would be admitted to the hospital, but would not leave. He might be expected to live 2 or 3 more days.
Dad had been living in an assisted living facility for 3 years since my Mom had to enter a nursing home because of dementia. Mom passed two years ago in January of 2008. Dad took it hard after 68 years of marriage and spending the previous 8 years being her primary caregiver. His health has been declining since then. After a year, he had to give up driving. In June of 2009 he suffered a stroke, which caused his speech to slur. However, Dad recovered enough from the stroke so that he could return to his assisted living apartment.
In September, however, he had another stroke, and once again he returned to his apartment. After that, my two oldest brothers flew in to spend a week with him. I planned to drive my family out there to spend Thanksgiving with him. I called him before my trip, and it sounded as if he knew the inevitable was coming.
"It seems that you kids have been discussing my demise," he said.
"We're worried about you."
"Well, I'm ready to join your mother in heaven."
That gave me pause. Normally, I would have tried to cheer him up, or change the subject, or tell him he wasn't going to die. Fortunately, I realized that would have been the result of my own discomfort and unwillingness to accept the reality of the situation and would have been even kind of demeaning to him. Before my Mom died, the dementia had made it impossible to have such a conversation with her. So I took a breath and it came to me what to say:
"I will miss you," I said.
"You know," he said. "Every time I walk into my apartment and see that picture of my parents, it still brings tears to my eyes. I still miss them."
His father died 46 years ago, in 1964 and his mother in 1970, when I was 15. He had just given me a valuable lesson. Grief and loss stay with us forever. It is a part of life. You acknowledge the feelings, you integrate them into your character, and you continue to live life to its fullest.
I asked him to forgive me for any hurt I might have caused him over the years.
"Oh, that's all part of being in a family, he said. "We both forgive each other, I'm sure."
When my mother died, I did not rush back quickly enough to arrive before she passed and I regretted that. This time, I vowed not to let that happen, so I immediately got online and booked a flight for my daughter, Simone, and me for the next day. My wife and other daughter could not leave that day and we agreed they would come for the funeral.
After we arrived on Sunday, we drove right to the hospital. The doctors had initially designated "comfort care" for Dad, which meant no food or liquids and basically to let nature take its course. My niece and nephew had driven up from Bloomington and my brother, his wife, and his son were there as well. Dad lay in bed. He looked terrible. He didn't have his dentures in and I barely recognized him. He did have a IV in his arm, and his condition had been upgraded to "do not resuscitate." My brother woke him up and Dad recognized me and Simone. We talked to him briefly and he fell asleep.
The next day, talking to doctors and nurses, we learned it appeared the bleeding in the brain had stopped and the were going to start Dad on Occupational and Physical Therapy with the goal of returning him to his assisted living facility. Of course, we were gladdened but we felt we had just gone through an emotional wringer. We had come anticipating the worse and now learned he had a reprieve.
My oldest brother had arrived the same day we had, and my second oldest arrived on Monday. My sister had been to see him with her husband earlier in January. We called her and Dad's spirits were buoyed. Every day, Dad got stronger and stronger. He was able to sit up, and use a stroller to get to a chair one day. The next day, he was able to walk with the stroller around the ward. Eventually, they started him on pureed foods and he started to look less gaunt.
Dad appeared to have had a miraculous turnaround. Throughout the poking and prodding and moving him around, he remained happy. He loved having his children around. When he was awake, he joked and watching him interact with the nurses was to watch countless acts of kindness and grace. He was teaching us how to be loving and how to live.
By Wednesday, he was released from the hospital and went back to the rehabilitative care ward connected to his assisted living center. We anguished a bit. Would he be able to return to his assisted living facility. If not, would insurance cover the costs of the rehabilitative care or use up all his savings? Would he have to be moved to the wing where my mother died and just spend his last days waiting? And if could regain the ability to take care of himself, we worried the same thing would happen again. Our family talked about these things over long meals, while reminiscing about our childhoods and telling stories about Mom and Dad. Our time together was bringing us closer. Being able to talk about these things with people I've known my entire life felt very comforting.
On Thursday, when Simone and I arrived to visit him, my older brother, who had arrived before us related something my dad had said earlier. "He said he felt worthless. That he was a bother to all of us. Then he said that tonight was going to be the night that he died." Later that day, his doctor visited. We went over the CAT scans with him to review the areas where he bled and to discuss his prognosis. He said that Dad had fallen after fainting, either because of low blood pressure or a skipped heart beat. When we related what my dad had said about passing, the doctor said, he took it very seriously when older people say things like that.
"For some reason that science can't explain, they seem to know when the hour is upon them. Your Dad has his Christian faith, which for him means he knows he is going to join your mother in heaven, which is a great comfort to him. That is a great blessing. Even if he doesn't pass tonight, fortunately, he is awake and alert and not like a good number of the people who live here."
That night we all slept fitfully, expecting to receive a call from the home telling us to come quickly. On Friday morning, when we arrived, he was sitting up, chatting and made no mention of his earlier premonition. We accompanied Dad to occupational therapy and marveled at how dextrous and coordinated he was after what he had just been through. He was present and took every new task as it came and gave it his full attention. He was living in an appreciated every moment. More lessons for us.
My second oldest brother had to leave on Saturday, so we decided to celebrate Dad's 95th birthday on Friday night instead of the actual day, Sunday. We brought in cakes and ice cream and sang happy birthday. He beamed as his great granddaughter, just 9 months old, cruised around and sat on his lap.
Simone and I were scheduled to leave on Sunday morning. Before our flight, we drove down to see Dad one last time--for his birthday and to say goodbye. He was fully dressed, having gotten up for breakfast, but lay asleep in his bed. We woke him to say goodbye, but he soon fell asleep. We left him to sleep, both feeling very blessed to have been able to spend this week with and learn from him.
Today, I picked up a copy of the Tao Te Ching, and found the following verse, which seemed so relevant.
(Verse 50 of the Tao Te Ching)
"The Master gives himself up
to whatever the moment brings.
He knows that he is going to die,
and he has nothing left to hold on to:
no illusions in his mind,
no resistances in his body.
He doesn't think about his actions;
they flow from the core of his being.
He holds nothing back from life;
therefore he is ready for death,
as a man is ready for sleep
after a good day's work."
Dad had been living in an assisted living facility for 3 years since my Mom had to enter a nursing home because of dementia. Mom passed two years ago in January of 2008. Dad took it hard after 68 years of marriage and spending the previous 8 years being her primary caregiver. His health has been declining since then. After a year, he had to give up driving. In June of 2009 he suffered a stroke, which caused his speech to slur. However, Dad recovered enough from the stroke so that he could return to his assisted living apartment.
In September, however, he had another stroke, and once again he returned to his apartment. After that, my two oldest brothers flew in to spend a week with him. I planned to drive my family out there to spend Thanksgiving with him. I called him before my trip, and it sounded as if he knew the inevitable was coming.
"It seems that you kids have been discussing my demise," he said.
"We're worried about you."
"Well, I'm ready to join your mother in heaven."
That gave me pause. Normally, I would have tried to cheer him up, or change the subject, or tell him he wasn't going to die. Fortunately, I realized that would have been the result of my own discomfort and unwillingness to accept the reality of the situation and would have been even kind of demeaning to him. Before my Mom died, the dementia had made it impossible to have such a conversation with her. So I took a breath and it came to me what to say:
"I will miss you," I said.
"You know," he said. "Every time I walk into my apartment and see that picture of my parents, it still brings tears to my eyes. I still miss them."
His father died 46 years ago, in 1964 and his mother in 1970, when I was 15. He had just given me a valuable lesson. Grief and loss stay with us forever. It is a part of life. You acknowledge the feelings, you integrate them into your character, and you continue to live life to its fullest.
I asked him to forgive me for any hurt I might have caused him over the years.
"Oh, that's all part of being in a family, he said. "We both forgive each other, I'm sure."
When my mother died, I did not rush back quickly enough to arrive before she passed and I regretted that. This time, I vowed not to let that happen, so I immediately got online and booked a flight for my daughter, Simone, and me for the next day. My wife and other daughter could not leave that day and we agreed they would come for the funeral.
After we arrived on Sunday, we drove right to the hospital. The doctors had initially designated "comfort care" for Dad, which meant no food or liquids and basically to let nature take its course. My niece and nephew had driven up from Bloomington and my brother, his wife, and his son were there as well. Dad lay in bed. He looked terrible. He didn't have his dentures in and I barely recognized him. He did have a IV in his arm, and his condition had been upgraded to "do not resuscitate." My brother woke him up and Dad recognized me and Simone. We talked to him briefly and he fell asleep.
The next day, talking to doctors and nurses, we learned it appeared the bleeding in the brain had stopped and the were going to start Dad on Occupational and Physical Therapy with the goal of returning him to his assisted living facility. Of course, we were gladdened but we felt we had just gone through an emotional wringer. We had come anticipating the worse and now learned he had a reprieve.
My oldest brother had arrived the same day we had, and my second oldest arrived on Monday. My sister had been to see him with her husband earlier in January. We called her and Dad's spirits were buoyed. Every day, Dad got stronger and stronger. He was able to sit up, and use a stroller to get to a chair one day. The next day, he was able to walk with the stroller around the ward. Eventually, they started him on pureed foods and he started to look less gaunt.
Dad appeared to have had a miraculous turnaround. Throughout the poking and prodding and moving him around, he remained happy. He loved having his children around. When he was awake, he joked and watching him interact with the nurses was to watch countless acts of kindness and grace. He was teaching us how to be loving and how to live.
By Wednesday, he was released from the hospital and went back to the rehabilitative care ward connected to his assisted living center. We anguished a bit. Would he be able to return to his assisted living facility. If not, would insurance cover the costs of the rehabilitative care or use up all his savings? Would he have to be moved to the wing where my mother died and just spend his last days waiting? And if could regain the ability to take care of himself, we worried the same thing would happen again. Our family talked about these things over long meals, while reminiscing about our childhoods and telling stories about Mom and Dad. Our time together was bringing us closer. Being able to talk about these things with people I've known my entire life felt very comforting.
On Thursday, when Simone and I arrived to visit him, my older brother, who had arrived before us related something my dad had said earlier. "He said he felt worthless. That he was a bother to all of us. Then he said that tonight was going to be the night that he died." Later that day, his doctor visited. We went over the CAT scans with him to review the areas where he bled and to discuss his prognosis. He said that Dad had fallen after fainting, either because of low blood pressure or a skipped heart beat. When we related what my dad had said about passing, the doctor said, he took it very seriously when older people say things like that.
"For some reason that science can't explain, they seem to know when the hour is upon them. Your Dad has his Christian faith, which for him means he knows he is going to join your mother in heaven, which is a great comfort to him. That is a great blessing. Even if he doesn't pass tonight, fortunately, he is awake and alert and not like a good number of the people who live here."
That night we all slept fitfully, expecting to receive a call from the home telling us to come quickly. On Friday morning, when we arrived, he was sitting up, chatting and made no mention of his earlier premonition. We accompanied Dad to occupational therapy and marveled at how dextrous and coordinated he was after what he had just been through. He was present and took every new task as it came and gave it his full attention. He was living in an appreciated every moment. More lessons for us.
My second oldest brother had to leave on Saturday, so we decided to celebrate Dad's 95th birthday on Friday night instead of the actual day, Sunday. We brought in cakes and ice cream and sang happy birthday. He beamed as his great granddaughter, just 9 months old, cruised around and sat on his lap.
Simone and I were scheduled to leave on Sunday morning. Before our flight, we drove down to see Dad one last time--for his birthday and to say goodbye. He was fully dressed, having gotten up for breakfast, but lay asleep in his bed. We woke him to say goodbye, but he soon fell asleep. We left him to sleep, both feeling very blessed to have been able to spend this week with and learn from him.
Today, I picked up a copy of the Tao Te Ching, and found the following verse, which seemed so relevant.
(Verse 50 of the Tao Te Ching)
"The Master gives himself up
to whatever the moment brings.
He knows that he is going to die,
and he has nothing left to hold on to:
no illusions in his mind,
no resistances in his body.
He doesn't think about his actions;
they flow from the core of his being.
He holds nothing back from life;
therefore he is ready for death,
as a man is ready for sleep
after a good day's work."
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Resting and Clearning
"Who can make muddy water clear? Let it be still, and it will gradually become clear. Who can secure the condition of rest? Let movement go on, and the condition of rest will gradually arise." (Tao Te Ching)
One of my goals for 2010 is to deepen my understanding of the philosophy behind Tai Chi. This is to help me become a better teacher of Tai Chi Chuan, of course, but it is also to help with my own personal development. This morning, my wife and I threw the oracle coins to do an I Ching reading. For more on what the I Ching is, click here to read the Wikipedia entry. Basically, it is one of the oldest texts that forms the basis of Taoist philosophy, in which Tai Chi Chuan has its roots. My coins resulted in the hexagram 29, "mastering pitfalls," with a moving line in the second position that results in an 8, "accord." I was surprised because their meanings seemed to mesh with my goal of personal development.
For many years, I have struggled with managing anger effectively. You name it, I've tried it: meditation, medication, yoga, swimming, deep breathing, and a host of other activities to try to reduce stress and make me a nicer person. I can, but won't, recount how I learned to express anger unhealthily. Suffice it to say that knowing the root cause didn't solve the problem, it only exacerbated it. Feeling victimized, powerless and resentful gave me the legitimacy to "dump" my anger on other people.
When writing down my goals for 2010, however, I saw how my anger was poisoning my relationships. And for the first time in my life, I had clarity around my anger. Perhaps it came from a line in one of the goal setting books I was reading. It basically said, "you are living the life that you have created or imagined. If you change how you think about your life, it will actually change what things will happen in your life." This is not so much different from what cognitive behavioral psychology or the new positive psychology movement tells us.
However, for some reason today it clicked. I realized that when I felt angry or put upon by someone, it was not because of what they were "doing to me," it was because I was projecting my unhappiness onto them. Moreover, I was seeing myself as an unhappy person. Believing my thoughts--that I was an unhappy person--would make me angry, and that would lead me to react in a negative way in my relationships. My personal development goals for 2010, especially around relationships, is to develop the talents and skills that I have (and do more of them) so I feel less angry and then stop blaming people around me for my unhappiness. It is about taking responsibility and being accountable for my own feelings and actions.
In this morning's I Ching reading, Hexagram 28, "mastering pitfalls," seems especially apt. Now that I know what my pitfalls are around anger, I can go about overcoming them. Doing that internal work will allow me to improve my relationship with others. I can't be an effective Tai Chi Chuan teacher if I haven't mastered the form and understood the philosophy behind it. As I improve myself, it will improve my relationships with others and result in the "accord" of Hexagram 8.
I like the quotes at the beginning from the Tao Te Ching. You can't force clarity. You have to be still and meditate and practice improving yourself. Only then will the natural forces be allowed to operate and we will understand.
How many people have written about having revelations, finding the answer to a problem, or coming up with a great idea only after they stopped thinking about it and let their mind work it out on its own? These people have done the ground work and been self-disciplined enough to study the problem, but the "aha" moment comes when they got out of the way. We need to balance the inward with the outward. We need to live in harmony with nature. When we impose our wills too much or make others the excuse for justifying our own behavior, well, we end up with a world like we're living in right now: terrorism, global warming, pollution, poverty, ignorance and needless suffering.
Tai Chi Chuan is an inward, soft martial art with a strong meditative component. It is all about bettering oneself and beginning a dialogue with one's body. It will lead us to find peace within ourselves, which is the only way we will ever find peace with those around us.
One of my goals for 2010 is to deepen my understanding of the philosophy behind Tai Chi. This is to help me become a better teacher of Tai Chi Chuan, of course, but it is also to help with my own personal development. This morning, my wife and I threw the oracle coins to do an I Ching reading. For more on what the I Ching is, click here to read the Wikipedia entry. Basically, it is one of the oldest texts that forms the basis of Taoist philosophy, in which Tai Chi Chuan has its roots. My coins resulted in the hexagram 29, "mastering pitfalls," with a moving line in the second position that results in an 8, "accord." I was surprised because their meanings seemed to mesh with my goal of personal development.
For many years, I have struggled with managing anger effectively. You name it, I've tried it: meditation, medication, yoga, swimming, deep breathing, and a host of other activities to try to reduce stress and make me a nicer person. I can, but won't, recount how I learned to express anger unhealthily. Suffice it to say that knowing the root cause didn't solve the problem, it only exacerbated it. Feeling victimized, powerless and resentful gave me the legitimacy to "dump" my anger on other people.
When writing down my goals for 2010, however, I saw how my anger was poisoning my relationships. And for the first time in my life, I had clarity around my anger. Perhaps it came from a line in one of the goal setting books I was reading. It basically said, "you are living the life that you have created or imagined. If you change how you think about your life, it will actually change what things will happen in your life." This is not so much different from what cognitive behavioral psychology or the new positive psychology movement tells us.
However, for some reason today it clicked. I realized that when I felt angry or put upon by someone, it was not because of what they were "doing to me," it was because I was projecting my unhappiness onto them. Moreover, I was seeing myself as an unhappy person. Believing my thoughts--that I was an unhappy person--would make me angry, and that would lead me to react in a negative way in my relationships. My personal development goals for 2010, especially around relationships, is to develop the talents and skills that I have (and do more of them) so I feel less angry and then stop blaming people around me for my unhappiness. It is about taking responsibility and being accountable for my own feelings and actions.
In this morning's I Ching reading, Hexagram 28, "mastering pitfalls," seems especially apt. Now that I know what my pitfalls are around anger, I can go about overcoming them. Doing that internal work will allow me to improve my relationship with others. I can't be an effective Tai Chi Chuan teacher if I haven't mastered the form and understood the philosophy behind it. As I improve myself, it will improve my relationships with others and result in the "accord" of Hexagram 8.
I like the quotes at the beginning from the Tao Te Ching. You can't force clarity. You have to be still and meditate and practice improving yourself. Only then will the natural forces be allowed to operate and we will understand.
How many people have written about having revelations, finding the answer to a problem, or coming up with a great idea only after they stopped thinking about it and let their mind work it out on its own? These people have done the ground work and been self-disciplined enough to study the problem, but the "aha" moment comes when they got out of the way. We need to balance the inward with the outward. We need to live in harmony with nature. When we impose our wills too much or make others the excuse for justifying our own behavior, well, we end up with a world like we're living in right now: terrorism, global warming, pollution, poverty, ignorance and needless suffering.
Tai Chi Chuan is an inward, soft martial art with a strong meditative component. It is all about bettering oneself and beginning a dialogue with one's body. It will lead us to find peace within ourselves, which is the only way we will ever find peace with those around us.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
The Reluctant Tai Chi Teacher
Though I've been practicing Tai Chi for 13 years and teaching it for 6, I feel uncomfortable calling myself a master. My master was a colleague named Quyen Tran, who taught Tai Chi at the fitness center run by our employer. All of Master Tran's classes were well attended, and there were always a few beginners at every class. We would first to a warm up and then practice the 28-position, Yang short form together. Then he would break us into beginners and advanced students. An advanced student would be given the job to teach the beginners the form. The advanced students would practice mastering or going deeper into the subtleties of the form.
After several years of practicing, Mr. Tran one day told me to go to and practice with the advanced students. This was a bit surprising because I didn't feel I had mastered the form. I relied on whoever was teaching to call out the moves, to tell me when to breathe, when to raise or lower my arms, and when to shift my weight and step. I wasn't frustrated by not mastering the form. Practicing Tai Chi made me feel so good, it was enough to follow along. I loved the class so much and rarely missed a class over the years.
After several more years, my master said he would be retiring in a few years. By this time, there was a core of people who were the old-timers. Some had been practicing with Mr. Tran ever since he began teaching. These were the advanced students whom Mr. Tran would call on to teach the beginners. One day, all of the old-timers were absent, and when Mr. Tran broke the class into two, he pointed to me and said "You teach the beginners, today."
I was shocked. I didn't feel I had mastered the technique. For example, when trying to practice on my own, I could never remember all the moves and transitions between the positions. So I was very uncomfortable when I stood in front of my "flock" of new students and began to teach. I made some mistakes, sure but the students didn't notice. But I still didn't remember all the moves. During the next week, I watched a videotape of Master Tran performing the routine, and I took notes and made a cheat sheet. At the next class, he asked me to teach again. I made fewer mistakes and to my surprise I was able to get through the entire set with the students. I had learned the form!
Sometimes we do not know what we have within us. It takes someone to recognize it and call it forth. There is a wonderful Buddhist saying that goes, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." An article I once saw said, "be a good teacher or get out of the way." In Mr. Tran I found the perfect teacher--he appeared when I was ready (after practicing for many years and had demonstrated that I was serious), he brought out what was inside, and then he stepped out of the way by making me teach. Through teaching I learned the form even better, and every time I practice, I learn something new. Tai Chi has become a life-long learning event for me and that is why I still feel it is a work in progress.
After several years of practicing, Mr. Tran one day told me to go to and practice with the advanced students. This was a bit surprising because I didn't feel I had mastered the form. I relied on whoever was teaching to call out the moves, to tell me when to breathe, when to raise or lower my arms, and when to shift my weight and step. I wasn't frustrated by not mastering the form. Practicing Tai Chi made me feel so good, it was enough to follow along. I loved the class so much and rarely missed a class over the years.
After several more years, my master said he would be retiring in a few years. By this time, there was a core of people who were the old-timers. Some had been practicing with Mr. Tran ever since he began teaching. These were the advanced students whom Mr. Tran would call on to teach the beginners. One day, all of the old-timers were absent, and when Mr. Tran broke the class into two, he pointed to me and said "You teach the beginners, today."
I was shocked. I didn't feel I had mastered the technique. For example, when trying to practice on my own, I could never remember all the moves and transitions between the positions. So I was very uncomfortable when I stood in front of my "flock" of new students and began to teach. I made some mistakes, sure but the students didn't notice. But I still didn't remember all the moves. During the next week, I watched a videotape of Master Tran performing the routine, and I took notes and made a cheat sheet. At the next class, he asked me to teach again. I made fewer mistakes and to my surprise I was able to get through the entire set with the students. I had learned the form!
Sometimes we do not know what we have within us. It takes someone to recognize it and call it forth. There is a wonderful Buddhist saying that goes, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." An article I once saw said, "be a good teacher or get out of the way." In Mr. Tran I found the perfect teacher--he appeared when I was ready (after practicing for many years and had demonstrated that I was serious), he brought out what was inside, and then he stepped out of the way by making me teach. Through teaching I learned the form even better, and every time I practice, I learn something new. Tai Chi has become a life-long learning event for me and that is why I still feel it is a work in progress.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Tai Chi: The Great Ultimate
As I stepped into the shower on this first morning after my marriage, the concept of Taiji, or Tai Chi, became clearer to me. The word, Tai Chi, consists of two linked Chinese characters. The first, means "great," and the second, means "ridge pole." In a tent, a ridegepole is the highest point and that which encompasses everything. According to scholars, this concept was created in Chinese philosophy to reconcile the central belief in Yin Yang, or the theory of opposites.
Yin Yang holds that opposites forces--such as hot/cold, male/female, up/down, light/dark, etc.--are interdependent, the one giving rise to, or contained in, each other. For example, a tiny grain of wheat, when sown, will grow into a tall shaft of when. Then it dies, releasing its seeds, which begin the cycle of life again. The seed holds both increase and decrease within.
When we practice Tai Chi Chuan, we try to incorporate concepts like heavy/light and up/down in our movements. While we are breathing in, our hands are light and floating upward, while the knees are lowering and feeling heavy. With our bodies, we are trying to be the ridgepole that serves as a bridge between the energy coming up from the earth and the that coming down from the universe and the sky.
This energy is also called "chi" or "qi," but it is not the same as "ji" which is found to "taiji" or "tai chi." Chi or qi is vital life force, which is analagous to prana in the yoga tradition or "elan vital," in French.
When we are in harmony, we have a balance between the yin yang and the qi is flowing between the opposites.
At the end of our civil marriage ceremony yesterday, the judge recited the following Apache blessing:
The latest addition to the pairs of yin yang opposites of Hot/Cold, Up/Down, Light/Dark, Sweet/Sour is the pair Laura/Kurt.
Yin Yang holds that opposites forces--such as hot/cold, male/female, up/down, light/dark, etc.--are interdependent, the one giving rise to, or contained in, each other. For example, a tiny grain of wheat, when sown, will grow into a tall shaft of when. Then it dies, releasing its seeds, which begin the cycle of life again. The seed holds both increase and decrease within.
When we practice Tai Chi Chuan, we try to incorporate concepts like heavy/light and up/down in our movements. While we are breathing in, our hands are light and floating upward, while the knees are lowering and feeling heavy. With our bodies, we are trying to be the ridgepole that serves as a bridge between the energy coming up from the earth and the that coming down from the universe and the sky.
This energy is also called "chi" or "qi," but it is not the same as "ji" which is found to "taiji" or "tai chi." Chi or qi is vital life force, which is analagous to prana in the yoga tradition or "elan vital," in French.
When we are in harmony, we have a balance between the yin yang and the qi is flowing between the opposites.
At the end of our civil marriage ceremony yesterday, the judge recited the following Apache blessing:
Apache Wedding Prayer
Now you will feel no rain-for each of you will be shelter to the other.
Now you will feel no cold-for each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there will be no loneliness for you.
Now you are two persons-there is only one life before you.
Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your togetherness.
And may your days be good and long together.
Now you will feel no cold-for each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there will be no loneliness for you.
Now you are two persons-there is only one life before you.
Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your togetherness.
And may your days be good and long together.
The latest addition to the pairs of yin yang opposites of Hot/Cold, Up/Down, Light/Dark, Sweet/Sour is the pair Laura/Kurt.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Big, cottony snowflakes are falling. The kind that stick to your eyelashes.
The first heavy snow of the year falls in Washington, DC, and for the first time in my life, it doesn't make me melancholy. It reminds me of a haiku by Basho:
You see, since boyhood, I hated the fall. Sure in Indiana where I grew up, we looked forward to the brilliant sulfur-yellow and flaming red maple trees. But for me it always meant returning to school and the fear of not being smart enough. Odd, that feeling despite going on to have a good life compared to billions of other inhabitants of this planet: I did well in college and a scholarship took me abroad. There I met my wife, returned home, married, got a good job and raised a family. Still the dread arose annually as my daughters grew up, and eventually left for college. Then came the hardest period: nearly losing both daughters, separation, loss of a parent, and divorce.
Taoism has a central idea that all dualities are interdependent.
"Any action would have some negative (yin) and some positive (yang) aspect to it. Taoists believe that nature is a continual balance between yin and yang, and that any attempt to go toward one extreme or the other will be ineffective, self-defeating, and short-lived." (Jeff Rasmussen, PhD, author of Spirit of Tao Te Ching)
The monk's faded backpack of Basho's haiku bears witness to the struggles of his life. The snow throws the scene into relief, its beauty a counterpoint to the threadbare sack.
As I said, this year is different. Today I see the snowfall leaving the ground covered with a white blanket that purifies, quiets the mind and makes everything beautiful again. The hard events of my life balanced the good things and now make me cherish them even more.
"First snowfall: the travelling monk's faded backpack."
You see, since boyhood, I hated the fall. Sure in Indiana where I grew up, we looked forward to the brilliant sulfur-yellow and flaming red maple trees. But for me it always meant returning to school and the fear of not being smart enough. Odd, that feeling despite going on to have a good life compared to billions of other inhabitants of this planet: I did well in college and a scholarship took me abroad. There I met my wife, returned home, married, got a good job and raised a family. Still the dread arose annually as my daughters grew up, and eventually left for college. Then came the hardest period: nearly losing both daughters, separation, loss of a parent, and divorce.
Taoism has a central idea that all dualities are interdependent.
"Any action would have some negative (yin) and some positive (yang) aspect to it. Taoists believe that nature is a continual balance between yin and yang, and that any attempt to go toward one extreme or the other will be ineffective, self-defeating, and short-lived." (Jeff Rasmussen, PhD, author of Spirit of Tao Te Ching)
The monk's faded backpack of Basho's haiku bears witness to the struggles of his life. The snow throws the scene into relief, its beauty a counterpoint to the threadbare sack.
As I said, this year is different. Today I see the snowfall leaving the ground covered with a white blanket that purifies, quiets the mind and makes everything beautiful again. The hard events of my life balanced the good things and now make me cherish them even more.
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