Not a Miracle Remedy but ... It's Something

Saturday, September 3, 2011:

I began this wedding day with a T'ai Chi Chih practice outside on the land where Frances and I lived the last eight years we resided in the Twin Cities. It felt so familiar to move on the same earth where I'd moved so many times before (both T'ai Chi Chih and T'ai Chi Ch'uan practices). In many ways it was still home and yet ... not home.

The next day one of our co-property owners told me that it was wonderful to look out the window and see me moving through my T'ai Chi practice. It felt so familiar until he, too, remembered that I no longer lived there.

I chose a practice spot further down the yard and closer to the marsh than my years' earlier spot. It's less sunny and more insect-filled. Still, I wanted to be away from the tumult and noise of morning wake-ups and pre-wedding plans. And, sure enough, almost immediately I felt a stinging sensation on one leg. When I looked down, I discovered five or six mosquitoes breakfasting on my blood.

The bone-deep familiarity of my practice yard comforted and relaxed me as I moved into the flurry of this celebratory day.

Sunday, September 4, 2011:

I felt tired this morning. Pure and simple, I'm not used to crowds of people (200 wedding guests) and loud dance music (an assault to my eardrums). Nonetheless, it was a fun evening.

I didn't dive into my T'ai Chi Chih practice until the day was nearly done. Instead I took it slow, visited with the mother and father of the bride as well as an aunt, uncle, and other guests. Then Frances and I took a walk in a nearby park, joined another friend for the movie The Help (very good!), and made fresh tomato soup for the worn out parents of the bride.

Finally, when readying myself for bed I stepped into TCC practice and let the busyness and social interactions of the day simply slide off me. Soon practice emptied me into bed where I slept deeply.

Monday, September 5, 2011:

Labor Day! For Frances and me it was a travel day. Before we headed home we stopped to visit with a friend. The three of us searched for an open restaurant for lunch and finally settled on Holy Land in northeast Minneapolis. Delish!

Then we were on the road for hours ... and hours.

Again, I moved into my practice just before I slipped into bed. Another full day of activity was shed from my body and mind as I moved through my practice. Then ... snnnnn....oooo.....rrrrr.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011:

Today I was back to work at the library. Tired and moving slowly. I urged myself (body and mind) through the day and then slid through an abbreviated T'ai Chi Chih practice before relaxing on the couch and watching a movie. Soon, very soon, I was in bed.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011:

I could barely wake myself up today. My week plus of constant activity, visits with friends, and hayfever symptoms was catching up with me! I napped for hours, read a book, and pulled myself out of bed for an evening sail on Lake Superior (offered by Catchun' Sun to Bayfield Chamber members).

It was a perfect night. Not much wind but enough to push us around the lake at three knots or so. Again, I returned home and fitted myself into an end-of-the-day T'ai Chi Chih practice that expanded my floating-gliding-sailing sensations into even deeper relaxation. Then ... sleep.

Thursday, September 8, 2011:

Today was agenda-free. I washed dishes, picked blackberries and vegetables, and then settled into a long, relaxed T'ai Chi Chih practice (the first full practice in five days). It was hot! Mid-70s with a very slight breeze that came and quickly went.

Still, it felt delicious to be back out on the deck, surrounded by woods and the quiet, whispering rush of a chipmunk scampering through undergrowth. It's true. I enjoy the absolute silence and peace of my home away from traffic, city streets, yard lights, barking dogs, and ringing telephones. Perhaps I appreciate this peace even more after I've been away from it and have had an opportunity to witness the chaos that invades so many people's lives.

I'm deeply grateful for the slow, peaceful silence that enters my life when I invest half-an-hour a day in a T'ai Chi Chih practice. It's not a miracle remedy but ... it's something.