Day Two: Distraction

Today is another quiet day in the woods. Despite the calm--no breeze--I felt uneasy during my morning t'ai chi chih (TCC) practice. Students' words echoed through my mind. I remembered a conversation I had about TCC post-Thanksgiving dinner. I worried about what to write in today's blog. In other words, Monkey Mind was up and running....

Our dog, Namaste, barked incessantly throughout my half-hour practice. Deer were nearby, I know, although they remained out of sight. A woodpecker pounded the hanging suet, a flush of bluejays raided the ground below the birdfeeder, and several nuthatches hunted seed.

Still, though I felt the energy in my palms and I slowed into the movements, I was not totally present in my practice. Instead of "be here now," I anticipated the too-soon-future when my blog awaited an entry.

Well, that's a bit of insight into my personality ... I am an anxious person. Of course, t'ai chi chih moving meditation brings peace and tranquility into my life. But that, too, can be fleeting. Often when I'm in the midst of a practice I wonder, "Why can't I live my life this way? Calm. Rooted in the wisdom and love at the core of my being." All too quickly the peace and comfort I've gained while performing the TCC movements is replaced by Life with a capital "L."

I believe, though, that the more regularly I practice, the more benefits I receive. I told Michael, our waiter at the Village Inn in Cornucopia, yesterday--where Frances and I went for a Thanksgiving meal--that I teach t'ai chi chih moving meditation in Corny.

"Really?" he responded, "Oh, that's why you seem so calm."

My partner laughed at his comment. The laughter was immediate and sure. Yes, she lives with me every day, year after year, and she is witness to my ups and downs. She sees how the raucous, rolling waves of my emotions sometimes turn me into--her words--a drama queen.

I'm better than I used to be. That's what I tell my students. And I know it's true. Earlier in my life I was often swamped or thrown overboard by the strength and ferocity of my anger, grief, and shame. Now I know that, mostly, I can stay afloat and keep my bearings. I seldom drown in the deep lake of my emotions anymore.

Years ago at a t'ai chi chih teachers' training the trainer sat quietly with his legs bouncing up and down. He was sitting as calmly as he could in the circle of certified teachers and teachers-to-be even as his body indicated that it was difficult; he was ready to get up and move, forgo the discussion, just go-go-go. "You think this is bad," he said to the group, "You should have seen me before I started practicing t'ai chi chih moving meditation."

I agree. T'ai chi chih practice doesn't turn us into perfect people. Perhaps more than anything t'ai chi chih moving meditation helps us to accept ourselves exactly as we are. For we are--all of us--imperfectly perfect human beings. And what greater gift can we offer ourselves than unconditional love and acceptance?

I know that tomorrow's blog will be easier. The day after that easier yet. Today I launched my boat into wide open waters. In the days that follow I'll gain greater comfort and experience as I balance myself between these two loves of mine: t'ai chi chih moving meditation and writing. If you'd like, I invite you to join me on my deep sea adventure....