Smoke on the Water and Fire in the Sky

I watch a double sunrise this morning. First, a pink ball of light rises over the horizon and ascends into a narrow strand of clouds and then a circle of shining white light emerges from the clouds that hover just above the edges of the Earth.

After the initial pink sunrise a stream of light lays itself down across Lake Superior's water and ice (it looks as though there may be both from my view out the living room window) and gleams straight toward me. I'm reminded of Frances's and my trip to Central America last winter when we watched sun risings over a warm water Caribbean Sea.

I continue to move through TCC practice as the sun rises ... a pure white circle of light with a rose pink aura around it. Near the end of practice I glimpse the lake again. This time there is no ice, no water. It looks like a thick fog or smoke covers its surface; clouds in the sky, clouds in the water. (Did the heat of the sun meeting the coolness of the lake's surface cause this reaction?) It reminds me of Deep Purple's song released in 1972 (am I dating myself?), Smoke on the Water.

My movements are less carefree today, more stiff and crinkled. But it feels good to emerge from sleep into wakefulness with the sun brightening the way....

I'm watching my t'an t'ien more these days ... literally. Since I tell my students to lead with their t'an t'ien and Sr. Antonia reiterated this command over and over again at the TCC retreat, I'm noticing how t'an t'ien leads me forward and back, up and down.

Justin Stone teaches that you can tell how relaxed a TCC practitioner is in their practice by how relaxed they are in their wrists and waist. I'm struck by how much waist/t'an t'ien motion there is even in the simplest of movements, Bird Flaps its Wings, for example.

How does your t'an t'ien move? How much does your t'an t'ien move? Watch it ... and be surprised.

Ahh, the Great Big (Scary) Outdoors....

Bright unadulterated sunshine suffused our woodland home this week. Neither Frances and I, nor Chiripa and Namaste could stay hidden away indoors. We went out walking every day, first to the mailbox with the dog leading and the cat huddling tentatively in Frances's arms. After we retrieved the mail and turned back up the driveway Frances lightly dropped little three-month-old Chiripa to the ground and then ... they were off.

The cat and dog raced furiously up the drive. Namaste, excited to have a tiny companion that could almost keep up with him, sped forward with a smile on his face. Chiripa--butt bouncing up and down--raced the dog more from fear and uncertainty than because she wanted to participate in the thrill of a chase. Namaste circled back when it was clear that he had the lead and the cat hovered near us, unsure and insecure. Where was she anyway?

After we reached the house and returned Chiripa to her safe spot on the porch and Namaste to the house's inner sanctums Frances and I retrieved our snowshoes for a walk through the woods. Finally, abandoned several days in a row, Namaste refused to re-enter the house and insisted that he be included in our snowshoe adventure. He took the lead along our well-tromped path past the goose barn and into the woods.

The first day Namaste followed his nose--and probably his good sense--and led us along the shortest route, a nice circle into the woods to a nearby clearing and then back to the driveway and our house. The next day he began from the same starting point but decided to take a left when the path forked. That day we ventured further into the woods until Namaste indicated that it was time to backtrack. Did the smell of coyotes or other creatures convince him that his decision was the wisest choice?

The following day we snowshoed even further into the woods with Namaste dashing far ahead until--again--he suddenly and unaccountably decided that it was time to reverse direction. Each day when we returned to the house, Chiripa waited patiently for us in the porch or, occasionally, zipped back out the door to join us in the driveway for a brief round of exploration.

Though the great outdoors is a fascinating and marvelous place for a sweet young thing it is also fraught with danger. Frances carries Chiripa outside almost daily now as she invites the kitten to experience, and become familiar with, the abundant sights, sounds, and smells that emanate from the woods. Chiripa isn't buying Frances's on-the-shoulder sales job. Often she heads straight for the underside of one of our cars where she waits and watches in semi-safety.

Each day, though, Chiripa quakes a little less, looks a little farther, and explores a little more. Ahh, the exciting life and daily learnings of a three-month old (according to Hill's Guide for Lifelong Health, in kitten years that's equivalent to a nine year old human). Frances and I find ourselves repeating a common refrain: Oh, she's growing up so fast....

Que Sera, Sera ...

Today contains two holidays rolled into one: Valentine's Day and the Chinese New Year (Year of the Tiger). Still, I began my day thinking about Mother. National Public Radio aired an interview on Weekend Edition Sunday with screenwriter and director, Doug McGrath, who recently wrote a New York Times article about Doris Day. Of course, Day’s name brought Mother to mind.

I certainly remember watching Doris Day movies back in the ‘60s. Surprisingly, when I looked Day up on the internet I found that she starred in 39 films, performed 650 songs, received one Academy Award nomination, received Golden Globe and Grammy awards and, as of 2009, was the top-ranking female box office star of all time (Wikipedia).

Today, for the first time in my life, I realized that Mother and Dad likely exerted equal influence over me when it came to my love of music, dance, literature, films, and art. Until now, though, I’d attributed my love of the arts to Dad. Dad read us stories, played classical music on the record player on Sunday afternoons, and read plenty of books himself.

But it was Mom who talked to me about movies and popular film stars; Mom who sang me snippets from some of her best-loved songs; Mom who picked me up from choir, duet, trio, small group, and orchestra practices; and Mom who signed me up for dance classes and who drove me to those lessons week after week for seven uninterrupted years. Mother couldn't hide how deeply moved she was by song lyrics and movie storylines ... nor did she try.

When I asked Mother some question about the future, she’d look at me and sing one of Doris Day’s most well-loved songs:

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, ‘What will I be?
Will I be pretty, will I be rich?’
Here’s what she said to me

‘Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be.’

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear from Mother but now, years later it’s what I remember. (I wonder whether she asked her own mother questions about an unknown future too.)

The fact that Mother sang her answer to me was a great un- and underappreciated gift. Today I sing these same lines over and over to myself as I hold memories of Mother in my mind. The combined wisdom and showmanship of songwriter, Ray Evans; singer, Doris Day; and one of my first unheralded teachers and philosophers--Mother--still sings true: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.

Going Deeper ... into T'ai Chi Chih Practice

I attended a T’ai Chi Chih Practice and Retreat at the Benedictine Center in St. Paul, Sewing the Seeds of T’ai Chi Chih: *Compassion *Loving Kindness *Grounding *Letting Go, with Sr. Antonia, TCC guide, on January 28-31, 2010. It was--in a word--fabulous!

I traveled to the Twin Cities to refine my movements, to meet Sr. Antonia, to deepen my practice, and to learn how to follow t’an t’ien (my center) more completely as it leads me through my movements (and my life). Thankfully I’ve begun to accomplish these goals and much more….

Sr. Antonia, Justin Stone’s appointed guide, is a lovely addition to the T’ai Chi Chih community. It’s obvious that she lives what she teaches; participants experienced first-hand the ways in which the depth of Sr. Antonia’s own practice (along with her prayer life, scriptural healing, Dances of Universal Peace, and other practices) allows her to maintain a loving, accepting, compassionate, and playful presence with those she meets.

I emerged from the middle of the woods to travel to the big city for this event and, I admit, I was overwhelmed and over-stimulated by the abundance of activities and the numbers of new people I met. By Friday night my head throbbed ... I was exhausted. The next day I asked fellow teachers and students for aspirin and received much more; Ibuprofin and a qigong healing session yielded immediate benefits.

Due to my headache and tiredness I’d missed Sr. Antonia’s Chinese brush painting session Friday night. When I mentioned my absence the next day, Sister volunteered to teach me one-on-one after lunch.

Chinese brush painting is similar to t’ai chi chih and, I imagine, the reverse is true also. Both practices require practitioners to soften and let go. I focused on relaxing and breathing deeply as I moved the brush along the paper and … it helped! I completed enough bamboo paintings to attend Saturday night’s session and make two of my paintings into cards and one painting into a framed piece of art! That’s a huge accomplishment for me as my artistic abilities are severely limited when it comes to brush and paint, pencil and paper, clay, or other art mediums.

There was much to embrace and experience; finding a new friend in my roommate, rediscovering an old student, reconnecting with other teachers, meeting new students filled with energy and excitement about this wonderful t’ai chi chih practice that we share, watching an incredible movie—twice!—that included an excerpt with Sr. Antonia (On the Road Home: A Spiritual Journey Guided by Remarkable Women), eating healthy food, engaging in wonderful conversations, revisiting old memories….

Another teacher and I—both accredited in October 1996—recounted our final presentations during our 1996 teacher training. These presentations are a personal mix of movement and words that complete the final requirements of the accreditation process. The night before my presentation one of Frances’s and my goats died. I was devastated. When I stepped in front of the group and began to talk about t’ai chi chih, I started to cry.

Afterward our teacher/trainer congratulated me on how well I’d done. It was a perfect demonstration of the power of t’ai chi chih practice, he said, because once I started to move it was obvious how quickly and easily the form brought me back to my center.

The other teacher recalled his own final presentation. His preparation—and the 3x5 index cards he held—helped him begin but, suddenly and unexpectedly, he froze. Total silence. He simply couldn’t go on. A previously accredited teacher stood up, handed him a glass of water and asked, “Honey, do you want a drink?” After several sips he continued his talk without incident.

One of the highlights of this retreat: our final morning practice of the Healing Sounds. Afterwards we positioned five chairs in the center of our circle and offered each other energy as the remaining 24 of us practiced the Healing Sounds repeatedly in order to permit every individual to sit in the center of the circle and draw in the energy of the Chi.

What an incredible experience! Near the end of my “sit” time I felt myself sinking, sinking, sinking. My breath flowed out of my body until I had no desire left to inhale. Then I sensed a cord extending down from my tailbone and into the Earth. It felt as if my fellow practitioners were helping me root more deeply. Subsequently no pain remained in my body; I was clear, calm, at peace.

I feel tremendous gratitude to those in the t'ai chi chih teachers' community who keep this practice alive and who invite the rest of us to continually go deeper. As t'ai chi chih's creator, Justin Stone, reminds us:

     T'ai Chi Chih becomes a way of life. It is true that the gentle movements of T'ai Chi Chih form a moving meditation and an exercise of great efficiency--exercising the inner organs and promoting healing--but eventually it goes beyond these and permeates the life-style of the practitioner. We do not all see the same world, which is a reflection of ourselves. With the accumulation of Chi (Vital Force) through T'ai Chi Chih practice, permanent changes in the metabolism and the thinking process take place and renewed energy conditions the whole way of life. Just as the thought conditions the Vital Force, so does the flow of this Chi, this Intrinsic Energy, condition the way of thinking. As these changes occur we get in touch with ourselves and the world we see begins to change....

                             From: Spiritual Odyssey by Justin Stone, p. 23