The Introductory Class is an opportunity for the interested beginning student to get a cursory exposure to several aspects of a tai chi practice: standing meditation, Qigong, specific stretching, balance and breathing techniques, the Tai Chi Form (moving sequence of postures), and some basic philosophy. You would derive great benefit from simply continuing with these simple introductory practices alone, but the primary purpose is to give you an opportunity to meet me, to see if you feel I would be a good teacher for you and if my approach resonates with your interest, and for you to assess if you feel drawn to the greater commitment of the full 20-week session. It lasts two hours and costs $25. The next one will be held in downtown Santa Cruz on Saturday morning, May 25, from 9:30-11:30. If you wish to enroll simply respond via the contact page and I will send you further registration details.

T’ai Chi Ch’uan (TCC) has been called the perfect example of Taoist principles expressed in the human domain. Taoism holds that, in all aspects of the Universe, nothing is static or fixed, there is only change, only transformation–the transition between yin and yang—hence the title of one of its foundational texts: The I Ching or Book of Changes. Although it is not necessary to know about Taoist cosmogony (a story about the origin of the Universe), it is constructive for practitioners of TCC to ponder its principles, to appreciate that creation is ongoing in every moment, as it is this realm we are exploring when we practice TCC.

The basics of Taoist cosmogony are:

1) In the beginning, there was an endless void, known as Wu Chi, or Tao. The Tao is a universal energy, from which all things emanate.

2) From this vast cosmic universe, from Tao, the One emerges. It is vibrational and magnetic in nature.

3) As the One manifests in the world, it divides in two: the Yin and the Yang, complementary conditions of action (Yang) and inaction (Yin). This stage is called Taiji or T’ai Chi (without the Ch’uan) and represents the emergence of duality/polarity out of the Unity of Tao. The “dance”­– the continual transformations of Yin and Yang ­– fuels the flow of chi (qi). According to Taoist thought, Qi is in constant transformation between its condensed material state (particle) and its dilute energetic state (wave). It is important to note here that the “chi” referred to in T’ai Chi is not the same “chi” referring to “movement energy” or “qi.” This confusion is eliminated when we adopt the modern Pinyin spelling (Taiji and Taijiquan) rather than the older Wade-Giles spellings (T’ai Chi and T’ai Chi Ch’uan) but the latter has become quite entrenched in modern Western usage.

4) From this dance of Yin and Yang emerge the 5 elements: wood, fire, metal, water, and earth. This stage represents the formation, out of the initial Yin/Yang duality, of the elemental constituents of the phenomenal world.

5) From the five constituent elements comes the “world of 10,000 things,” all of manifest existence–all of the objects, inhabitants, and phenomena of the world we experience. Human beings, in the Taoist cosmology, are among the 10,000 things—a variety of combinations of the Five Elements. Spiritual growth and change, for Taoists, is a matter of balancing the Five Elements within the person. Unlike many religious systems, human beings are not regarded as something separate from the natural world, but another manifestation of it.

Another way of describing this process is to say that these stages represent the descent of energetic consciousness into physical form. Taoist mystics, using various Inner Alchemy techniques (primarily meditation), are said to be able to “reverse engineer” this sequence of events and return to the energetic, blissful realm of Tao, or “enlightenment.” The practice of Taoism, in general, is an attempt to perceive the presence and workings of the universal Tao in the 10,000 things and live in balanced accord with it.

Although “T’ai Chi Ch’uan” is often translated as “supreme, ultimate fist,” a more useful translation is: an exercise or movement in “the realm where Yin and Yang play.” Through this practice we learn how to move and interact in the “world of 10,000 things” (including thoughts, emotions, other people, life experiences, etc.–all of manifest existence) without being drawn away from our essential nature. One of the principles of TCC is this separation of Yin and Yang, i.e., staying in the realm of awareness of Taiji, not the realm of 10,000 things, so that we can successfully participate in the realm of “doing” while consciously remaining in the realm of “being.”

Wu wei means non-doing or ‘doing nothing’. This is not an invitation to laziness or apathy. It is key to the noblest kind of action according to the philosophy of Daoism and is at the heart of what it means to follow Dao or The Way. It is what Laozi (Lao Tsu/Lao-Tze – Daoist “Immortal”/“Old Master”/”Enlightened One”) means in the foundational text Dao De Jing by the enigmatic phrase “When nothing is done, nothing is left undone.” This is the paradox of wu wei. It doesn’t mean not acting, it means ‘effortless action’ or ‘actionless action’. It means being at peace and aligned with your center of “being” while engaged in even the most frenetic or challenging tasks so that one can carry these out with maximum skill and efficiency. Something of the meaning of wu wei is captured when we talk of being ‘in the zone’ – at one with what we are doing, in a state of profound concentration and flow. In order to accomplish this, we as practitioners strive to maintain a state of equilibrium (yin/yang), moving and interacting within our physical plane of existence (the world of 10,000 things), without “reacting” or interjecting our own personal agenda or desire but, rather, “responding” in an appropriate manner to external conditions or experiences, without personal attachment to outcome.

How does all this relate to our physical practice of the Form you ask? There are many styles and “Forms” of T’ai Chi and Qigong and each teacher of each Form brings their own personal “flavor” or interpretation or insight into the “how” of transmission­––what to say, how to say it, and what is worth the student’s attention are just a few of the considerations. The Form that I practice and teach is one developed by William CC Chen (WCCC) who still lives in New York and teaches internationally and online. His Form is a modification of that taught to him by his teacher, Cheng Man-ch’ing (CMC), considered to be the individual who introduced T’ai Chi to the West (New York, 1964) and the originator of what is known as the Yang Short Form (shortened from the Long Form to make it more accessible, especially to impatient New Yorkers!) “Yang” in this case does not refer to the yang of yin/yang but, rather, the family name of CMC’s teacher Yang Ch’eng-fu (1883-1936). William Chen replaced several of the repetitions in CMC’s Short Form with postures from the Yang Long Form, retaining the same total number (60) of moves or “brain shapes.”

The interplay and relationship of Yin and Yang (in the realm of Taiji – referred to earlier in step #3 in the Taoist cosmogony) is encountered in the 60 postures or shapes and the transition between them so that there is a constant flow between Yin and Yang. “When the extreme of Yang is reached, Yin appears” (and vice-versa). What this statement implies is that the interplay of Yin and Yang is the natural state of the Universe and that we need not (and should not) “do” anything to force or “make it happen” but rather through wu wei and our attention and intention alone, simply manifest the natural “flow” of Nature.

William Chen refers to the separation of Yang and Yin via several metaphors: action/pre-action, wake up/fall asleep, appear/disappear. These occur and repeat in a continuous sinusoidal wave (peaks/yang and valleys/yin). Therefore, in each moment of the Form, we adopt a continuous series of body positions/shapes (external organization) as well as a variety of constantly changing qualities (internal organization). Our task in wu wei is to maintain equilibrium (yin/yang) within our own bodies all while we are moving. We do this through focused awareness of our own physical body (ting) coupled with the release of muscular and mental tension (song). We progress through the shapes of the Form, moving our hands and feet, constantly feeling/sensing where our weight is located on the bottoms of the feet as we shift weight, and the open/neutral/relaxed quality of all our joints (energy gates). This obviously requires a high level of attention and focus and is one of the reasons we do the Form slowly. Although most Forms do not have explicit instructions on when to breath, in our WCCC Form, we inhale on the physical expression of each shape (yang) and exhale during the transition (yin). Breathing at this pace also induces what has been shown to be the rate of inhalation/exhalation for optimal health (5-6 respiratory cycles per minute).

Many writers have attached symbolic, conceptual, healing or historical/mythological significance to each posture and the entire sequence of the Form and that is a valid and interesting study that adds depth to our understanding and knowledge. But they are still ideas/thoughts/concepts and, as such, belong to the realm of 10,000 things. The observable sequence of movements, by themselves, does not appear very physically challenging and, in fact, it isn’t. It offers little in the way of physical exercise in the Western sense; little more than simply taking a walk. Any accomplished dancer could memorize the sequence of movements that comprise the Form within a few hours and make it look beautiful. The physical demands of the Form are subtle and the challenge and reward of practicing the Form is not found in the observable movements. “The purpose of the Form is to perfect you…to train your body, your chi and your mind. It’s not to perfect the Form. Form is just an exercise. It is there to serve you.” (Sifu Adam Mizner) .

How does Form practice do that? TCC uses the body as the gateway to developing this stable equanimity. It addresses the Mind and the Body not as two separate, somehow related, “things,” but as one process operating in time and space, under the influence of gravity. Increasing balance, strength and awareness in the physical body naturally results in concomitant changes in the Mind. The essential purpose and outcome of continued Form practice is the development of a sustained state of mental and physical equilibrium/balance in the face of constant change. This is accomplished through a continual and primary focus on song (pronounced soong) and ting. Song is translated as relaxation, unbinding, loosening­; a release of all tension or resistance. Ting is internal awareness (interoception)–bringing focused attention into the physical body at all moments. It is the sustained maintenance of ting and song that challenges the practitioner and transports the practice, through feeling*rather than thought, into the realm of Taiji and generates all of the health and psycho-emotional benefits as well as the martial power. The physical movements, practiced with song and ting, simultaneously “open” and challenge the Mind and Body’s ability to sustain that reduction of physical and mental tension. Deepening and solidifying this state of relaxed awareness while interacting with the world is a result of this repetition and the sustained practice over time (kung fu) of the TCC Form.

When asked about meditation, Cheng Man-ch’ing reportedly responded “Meditation is fine but what do you do when someone tries to push you off your pillow?” This alludes to the fact that the continued practice of TCC can train martial skills to deal physically with ‘someone’ aggressive or hostile but, more importantly, train the stability of mental equanimity to successfully meet challenges from our social environment or internal challenges created by our own mind in the form of regret, fear, or any negative emotion arising from non-present-moment consciousness. This second realm is the most valuable in the life of every practitioner.

* It is important to distinguish feeling from emotion, which is a judgment and thought-reaction to a physical feeling.

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It is important to remember, however, that we do not need to know anything about Taoism or its principles and precepts to practice, enjoy, and benefit from the practice of t’ai chi since our practice is unconcerned with the world of thoughts, concepts, or any other “things,” and what we practice, “The Form,” is an ever-changing, ever-transforming series of movements or shapes without fixity or stasis. Nonetheless, understanding the concept of Yin and Yang can help us understand the Form.

“How to Grasp the Bird’s Tail if You Don’t Speak Chinese” by Jane Schorre was originally published in 1997. It has been out of print and difficult to find for 20 years and extremely expensive when available. It has just recently been republished. As described on Amazon, it is “a beautiful exploration of the Chinese calligraphy and meanings of the Taijiquan posture names. This text reveals the mystery, imagery, and poetic ambiguity in the Chinese language. Much in the names in of Taiji movements is lost in the English translation. This book asks the reader to consider the Chinese character, which conveys much of the inner essence of Taiji. This book was originally copyrighted by the author, Jane Schorre and published by North Atlantic Books in Berkeley California. A group of taijiquan enthusiasts felt that such a beautiful book should not be out of print, so after an exhaustive search, we determined that the only route to go was to republish this book ourselves. All proceeds go to World Tai Chi and Qigong Day, a program of Health, Prosperity, & Leadership Institute, a 501c3 non-profit organization dedicated to spreading Health, Prosperity, and Leadership to everyone, everywhere.” It is beautifully illustrated throughout with the calligraphy of Margaret Chang. The following is a small sampling from the book.

Grasp the Bird’s Tail (Lan que wei): “Taking something into the hands to pay close attention to it … all birds (even the little sparrow) can represent the connection of heaven and earth and the activity within the space between … we pay attention to the smallest details … every time this movement occurs in the form it can be a reminder of the kind of awareness, the being totally present, that Taiji requires.”

Ward Off Left and Right (Peng): “Peng … it is about expanding and opening up, as well as releasing (as in shooting a bow, removing the cover of a container) … Peng may be represented by the Chinese Roc– a monstrous bird representing the power of the air, with it’s wings like clouds, traveling tremendous distances with incredible speed, it carries the sky on it’s back – What a picture to keep in mind as we raise our arms in the Peng movement (the Roc is a far cry from the little Sparrow, giving a completely different sense of dynamics)”.

Cross Hands (Shi zi shou): “Where the apparent opposites converge to create the center … a completion … yin/yang unity of heaven and earth … emphasis on the center, where all comes together in wholeness and completeness … in the Form we have been involved in the extension of our body and our energy in all directions, but here we bring everything together into the center – this is what we do on the mountain top, we bring the tiger energy into our center and now we are in a position for either an ending or a new beginning.”

Cloud Hands (Yun shou): “Clouds represent the transforming, changing patterns of things. The essence of clouds in their constantly changing form as they are created, carried and shaped by the forces of nature. They are soft and floating, but within their insubstantiality there is the potential for and lightning and the force of storms. Then we become aware of the cloud as a part of the whole yin/yang process of the rain cycle. We see vapor rising in response to the light of heaven, gathering into cloud and transforming into rain, which falls in response to earth’s gravity only to be transformed into vapor again. These cloud images are all important to the quality of our Taiji movement. Are our cloud hands soft and insubstantial enough to go along with any changing circumstance? Are they at the same time capable of strength and power? Are they circling – rising and falling in response to the energies of heaven and earth? And are they moving with the soft beauty of clouds?”

by William CC Chen

The feeling Yi (sensation意) begins from intention in the mind. The intensity of intention stimulates the emotion in the brain. The emotion is the desire (feeling) that motivates the Qi flow; it is the sensation of our feeling Yi. Without thinking there would be no feeling, no Qi flow and no physical motion. “Feeling Yi in the brain” is the primary objective of the real physical movements, the connection of the mind and brain. The merger of the brain with the mind is like the software interfacing with the computer hardware.

The connection of the merging Qi and the feeling Yi is like the electric wire. Energy Qi in the body is the positive “hot” wire. Thinking mind of the Feeling Yi of the brain is a negative soft wire.  This dual polarity must be unified to produce the direct current electricity. Qi氣and feeling Yi generate the dynamic outgoing energy for physical action.  Yi is an infinite source of force that integrates the soul with human Willpower 毅力. It is like the spiritual soul魂 energy, also called “Shen” 神.

Qi is our human mobility energy and the intentional feeling of Yi is an inspiring energy. In our normal life, we can’t live with one without the other. The store of Qi is residing in the meridians and requires Yi to amplify it for action.   Qi is the optimal power for an internal martial artist. It is fuel potential energy that is easily ignited into explosive force for a quick punch or kick. The feeling Yi triggers the Qi, which in turn generates the Will-power of Shen, the power of the spiritual Soul (or immortal Soul).

To generate the power of mastery, we think and feel it (Yi), we Will it, and we create a huge amount of fuel to ignite Qi like gasoline to produce an explosive force.  Shen contributes a massive amount of oxygen which combines with the “human fuel” of Qi to ignite a superpower explosive force.

Therefore, a devoted martial artist’s body strength is supported and sustained by the resilient Willpower of Shen and feeling Yi from the brain. Feeling Yi is the best generator of Qi for physical action. The source of the nexus of the three (Yi, Qi and Shen) is the best human treasury. These three essential elements are the central emphasis by Chinese martial artists. In addition, they constitute the basis for human productivity, enabling us to accomplish our daily obligations to society.

Our natural physical movements arise from the emotion of feeling Yi. It animates the Qi flow to create physical actions to express the feeling desire. Any physical movement without feeling Yi is considered an imitation movement. The genuine movements of Tai Chi Chuan are the reflection of the emotional feelings and desires of the brain, transformed into physical expression.

It is like a professional dancer versus an amateur dancer: the professional dancers perform with full feeling from the heart. The amateur dancers are still learning through physical imitation. The real movements of the dancing are the physical expression of the intentional emotional feelings. This is applied to all the movie actors or actresses in the film-world.

In the Tai Chi practice, the fingers moving gracefully and powerfully through the air are stimulated by the emotional feeling of the brain. The movements of fingers are one of the principle modes of physical expression. One of the first things an infant learns to do is “point” at what they want. When we talk our fingers automatically move in conjunction with our thoughts. When we are angry our fingers clench and tighten. When we are relaxed or falling asleep the fingers are released and soft.

The fingers and the toes are the devices which display the slow movements of Tai Chi Chuan as feeling Yi activates the Qi flow to create the moving fingers and the pressing toes. As the qi flow gradually increases, the energized fingers slowly form the palms or fists as they expand outward from the base of the toes, resulting in the slow motion of Tai Chi Chuan.

The biomechanics of finger function as initiated in the cerebral cortex are intricate. The five fingers are controlled by two different nerve systems. The median nerve originates in the brachial plexus, from nerve roots that emerge out of the spinal cord in the base of the neck. The median nerve activates the index finger, the middle finger and the thumb. The pinky finger and the ring finger are connected to the ulnar nerve, which comes from the neck and runs down the arm and through the elbow.

In regard to the dynamic science and how it relates to Qi flow, “The median nerve triggers the index finger [the most active finger], the middle finger and the thumb to boost the Qi flow for an action. The ulnar nerve activates the pinky finger and the ring finger to defuse the Qi flow or to set up for action. The pinky finger is more active than the ring finger. I call the pinky fingers “the pre-action fingers.”

“When we turn or rotate the pinky and ring finger, the effects are softening of the rib-muscles, and releasing of the tailbone, flattening of the arch of feet, and discharging by the inner thigh muscles. This state of Yi brain is the pre-action or setting up for an action. When we spin or twist the index finger, the middle finger and the thumb, the toes fasten onto or press into to the ground while the body becomes substantial and the inner thigh muscles contract. Through this elegant system of stimulation and response, the Yi of brain stimulates the remote expression devices of the fingers and the toes into an action.

So, the pinky fingers “turn” and the index fingers “spin”. Turning sets up leverage for spinning. Turning is negative and spinning is positive. Without turning it is difficult to produce the effect of spinning. Spinning must be initiated by the pre-action of turning. This yin/yang interplay expressed through the fingers is a natural phenomenon.

We often unconsciously “turn” and then “spin” as we perform different tasks, “When we want to unlock a door and we insert the key in the lock there is an automatic reaction of lifting the pinky fingers as the big toe and inner thigh muscles are released. This is a set up for the big toe pressing or griping on to the ground, the inner thigh muscles contracting and the index fingers “spinning” the key to unlock the door. In the kitchen, the pinky fingers help to lift the knife and the index fingers do the cutting.”

The fingers and the toes are of utmost importance to our life. The fingers enable us to write, type, gesture, grab and much more; the toes enable us to move around from one place to another as needed and help us to maintain our balance and to support movements of the fingers. Both the fingers and the toes serve us as devices to express the brain’s intention and feelings while helping us to complete and fulfill our desired daily activities.

The benefits of Tai Chi Chuan in daily practice include boosting the energy Qi flow that lubricates our joints and enhance mobility, reducing aching and pain by clearing Qi blockage in the meridians; and helping the fingers and the toes move freely and flexibly, which allows the martial artists to have the rapid actions of their quick punches or kicks. The most important contribution made by our fingers and toes is to work like a handyman or handy-woman, helping us to move through our daily tasks more quickly and effectively.

To sum up, the intentional feeling Yi directs the energy Qi flow, generating the physical expressive devices of the fingers and the toes to fulfill our desires. The Yi, Qi and responsive fingers and toes are the central fundamental point in the Tai Chi Chuan practice. It is the best gift and the most generous contribution to the quality of human life.

We are the natural human beings with full passion and compassion of the feeling mind in the brain, enabling us to do the things that we want to do. Therefore, feeling is everything; it boosts the energy Qi flow throughout the body to keep us in good health. In addition, it enhances the mobility of our fingers and toes so that we can function like a super handyman or handy-woman to fulfill our desires and make us more productive and further contributing human beings in our modern society.

The following is my synopsis of Mind Over Matter: Higher Martial Arts by Shi Ming and Siao Weijia with Thomas Cleary (Translator). It is a slim volume (136 pages) of essays examining the role of consciousness in Chinese martial arts, specifically taijiquan. The additional references to William CC Chen are mine (Sifu Mark Bernhard)

The position of refinement of consciousness in the theory and practice of martial arts is utterly critical…To abandon this is tantamount to throwing away the living soul and fundamental work of the techniques and theories…

Chinese philosophy and humanistic ethics have a strong color of the search for universal beauty. All Chinese exercise routines unify form and spirit. All have a joyfulness, color, rhythm, meter, crescendo and diminuendo of mood, alternating movement and stillness. The martial arts are distinct from any other system of physical exercise or self-defense in their connection and intimate relationship, interpenetration, and mutual influence with every aspect of Chinese culture: philosophy, literature, art, music, painting, drama, and dance. The meaning of martial arts far transcends the domain of ordinary physical and mental exercises, or combative techniques. Advanced martial artists regard fighting per se as a minor aspect of a path or way by which to seek the Tao (Truth). Pugilism itself is a minor art: we must “defeat the enemy without doing battle.” This sublimation of martial arts from its primitive motives and purposes into the embodiment of the philosophical teachings result in a highly evolved psycho-physical activity.

The taiji postures (or “brain shapes” as William Chen calls them) are lively, expressive gestures and movements that are by turns firm, soft, like a rock carving, floating clouds, flowing water, like inspiring art and poetry. They imitate rivers, mountains, animals, plants, sun, moon, struggle and harmony, feelings and temperaments. Bringing an attentive consciousness to the morphology, movement, temperament, and spiritual conditions of animals, plants, and natural phenomena restores, nurtures and enriches our own biological and biodynamic abilities without returning to a bestial, uncivilized, or primitive state. This dynamic training of firmness/flexibility, emptiness/fullness, movement/stillness, speed/slowness, etc. creates a comprehensive processing of instinct, the subconscious, and consciousness to refine and use inner power to, in turn, refine mind and spirit.

The postures require the practitioner to go through training and principles analogous to what Buddhists call discipline, concentration, and insight until they reach a state of profound stillness known as “emptiness” (Buddhism), “the infinite” (Confucianism), and “non-contrivance” (Taoism). Continued training brings this stillness to a high degree of resilience, and stability, difficult to break down. Enlightenment can be defined as a consciousness field not subject to disturbance that, consequently, allows intrinsic or innate intelligence to emerge.

In calligraphy and Chinese painting “consciousness precedes the brush” and “the effect is outside the brush.” In taijiquan, the craft is in the body; the effect outside the fist­––inner and outer practiced simultaneously. Inner is the refinement of the person; outer is cultivation of the human to commune responsibly with the universe. Training the consciousness controls and directs the mechanical body, via regulation of the respiratory, nervous and endocrine systems. This can cure illness, strengthen the body, lengthen a life span, and disinter latent supra-normal capacities.

In this light, consciousness is not abstract or “mental” or “in the brain,” but a fusion of mind and body, spirit and matter, wherein will (intention) is used in place of physical strength, eliminating all excessive and inefficient tension: the tension of physical and mental instincts, the tension of initiative, tension produced by contradictions between conscious and subconscious, and tension aroused by external stimuli. This is not “natural” and does not come “naturally” but is, in essence, a mastery of Nature through a disciplined conformity to it,  bringing consciousness back to its root in the body. This is a very rare state of spontaneity, raising the subconscious to the level of consciousness, requiring the elimination of “conscious intent.” “Consciousness is a spiritual-material structure, consisting of a triad of information, capacity, and format. Only when it can perform successfully as such a structure can it function interactively with any spirit or matter at all. Consciousness has a field. And it has a force; it is a supra-normal consciousness whose own inherent capacity can activate other capacities, forming a potent force field.” Consciousness is always a medium and an instrument, as well as the object of training: practice cultivation is a cyclical pattern of using consciousness to refine consciousness.

• Vitality = the body/mechanical system
• Energy = power system (including the brain)
• Spirit = total expression of the life activity of vitality and energy = consciousness = mind with content = motivation and direction system.
• When consciousness dwells on something = intent.
• Changes in attention based on intent = thought.
• The means of disposal of affairs = mind = the order according to which energy operates
• Reaching afar by thought = consideration.
• Managing things with consideration = intelligence.
• Doubt disappears through habituation.

In martial arts, the most fundamental objects (raw materials) of processing are vitality, energy, spirit. The processing instrument is consciousness. The whole exercise system is the gathering and concentration of power, will, motor awareness, symbolic representations of exercise movements, memorization of exercise movements, key exercise centers of the brain, etc.­ and reducing it all to “consciousness” or “conscious intent in movement,” which we shorten to “conscious intent,” where the “recollection of something in mind is called conscious, and the sustaining of consciousness on a particular point is called intent.”

The goal is to establish a relationship of direct coordination between thought, intent and action, ultimately refined to spontaneity without conscious intent. First consciousness moves, then power moves, and then the physical body moves. William Chen states “taijiquan is feeling…passion…expression.” Power comes from qi moving in an unobstructed (song) field. Dynamic thought is defined as unifying thought and the coordinate extracorporeal consciousness field outside the body, when you reach the level of “original mind.” This is the realm that is “so vast there is nothing outside, so minute there is no inside,” “doing everything without doing anything.” Then the force of consciousness, like electricity in a wire or water in a pipe, can move unencumbered through and even outside the body. It is “free to move.”

This creates a highly relaxed and stable condition of body and mind. Metabolism slows down and stabilizes while the efficiency of physical and mental work increases. When environmental conditions are beyond human control, the practical thing to do is to change the human ability to adapt. Only when you have tuned yourself and strengthened your own ability to maintain balance in motion (fluctuation of influences) can you respond to (dissolve) imbalance brought on by opponents or the environment and you enter the realm of taiji (where “yin and yang play”), leaving behind the “world of 10,000 things.”

Balance is a vital health concern and the effects of falls and fractures are devastating:

Every year 30% of people over the age of 65 will sustain a fall. Half are repeat fallers. This equals 13.4 million falls a year with 2.5 million emergency room visits, an increase of almost 50% in one decade. 55-70% of these result in physical injury, about half of them serious­–hip fractures, traumatic brain injury, or other head trauma–that reduce mobility and independence and increase the likelihood of premature death.

90% of hip fractures are associated with a fall. People over the age of 85 are 10-15 times more likely to experience a hip fracture than are people aged 60-65 years. Half of those who suffer a hip facture never return home or live independently. 80% are no longer able to walk a block. Only 25% ever fully recover; the same number who will die within the first year due to complications.

In 2012, more than 24,000 people over the age of 65 died as a result of a fall, over double the amount just a decade earlier and the leading cause of death in that age group. Men are 34% more likely to die from a fall than women but hip fracture rates in women is triple that of men. 67% of fall fatalities are among people aged 75 years or older. Over 60% of nursing home residents will fall each year.

Half of all accidental deaths in the home are caused by a fall. Most fall injuries in the home happen at ground level, from slipping, tripping, or stumbling, not from an elevation.

In 2010, the cost attributed to falls in the USA was $30 billion.

73 million Americans are “baby boomers,” born between 1946 and 1964. By 2040, there will be 77 million over 65 years of age. This means that 25 million are likely to fall and incur 8 million injuries, with 25,000 fall-related deaths each year.

Balance problems and fear of falling can also result in prolonged inactivity, even further reducing one’s ability to deal with a balance disorder and, in turn, contribute to other problems, including loss of bone and muscle mass, heart disease, and obesity. The emotional pain of social isolation and the loss of formerly enjoyed activities can be no less profound.

The good news is that most balance problems are fixable and falls preventable, beginning with modifications of the living environment. Most importantly, exercise and specific training of balance and/or strength, that focuses on postural orientation (positioning the trunk and head in alignment to each other as well as to the ground and to the visual field) and postural equilibrium (coordinating movement strategies to center and stabilize the body) help recalibrate the complex interaction of sensory and motor functions. Based on systematic reviews of varying approaches, Tai Chi is one of the better exercise choices for this purpose. Several randomized clinical trials have found a 45% reduction in the number of falls with 4-6 months of Tai Chi training. The four body systems effecting balance are: musculoskeletal, sensory, neuromuscular, and cognitive. Tai Chi addresses all of these simultaneously and, because of its gentleness, is accessible for people of all ages and levels of fitness. Here’s how Tai Chi affects these four systems:

Musculoskeletal: Tai Chi is weight bearing and the constant shifting from one leg to another increases leg strength. The time spent on each leg during this weight shifting is much greater than during walking. Tai Chi also improves torso and limb range of motion and flexibility, core strength, and vertical alignment to gravity, all essential for a stable, grounded, and less top-heavy posture.

Sensory: The slow, continuous tempo of Tai Chi coupled with the emphasis on moving the body as a unit enhances awareness of the speed, trajectory, and force of executing movements as well as the external environment. In one long-term study, Tai Chi improved joint proprioception (awareness of position in space) of the knees and ankles better than swimming or running. The Tai Chi group was also more sensitive to small movements in their joints, suggesting quicker, more accurate feedback for balance and posture. Those in the Tai Chi group could lean further in any direction before losing their balance.

Decreased sensation in the feet due to peripheral neuropathy from diabetes and other conditions obviously impacts balance. A six-month program of Tai Chi with such subjects at Louisiana State University resulted in increased sensitivity in the soles of the feet, improved balance and a faster walking speed. Another 12-week study reported increased nerve conduction velocity in the peripheral nerves to the feet in a group of diabetics practicing Tai Chi. The hands and fingers, not just the feet, become more sensitive with Tai Chi practice. A comparison study of fingertip sensitivity in older subjects showed an increase in the Tai Chi group equivalent to blind people who read Braille.

A Harvard study of vestibular (inner ear) balance problems compared 10 weeks of Tai Chi versus traditional rehabilitation exercises. Both groups improved their dynamic balance control but, overall, Tai Chi was more effective. While the non-Tai Chi group did better with improved “eye gaze stability,” other studies show Tai Chi practitioners are better equipped to maintain balance if the vestibular, visual, or proprioceptive inputs are purposely reduced or made confusing; equivalent, in fact, to healthy, young subjects during these experimental challenges. Since most falls occur in a difficult or challenging situation, this finding is extremely noteworthy.

Neuromuscular: We move in patterns of action, not by isolated muscular contraction. Muscles, joints, ligaments, etc. must work in coordination with each other to accomplish even the simplest of movements. The slow, purposeful movements of Tai Chi and the sequencing and timing of different muscle groups under close attention by the practitioner is ideal training of neuromuscular patterns and greatly improves balance. Several studies involving induced slips during walking have shown Tai Chi effective in improving muscular coordination, ankle reactive time, gait initiation, and lower extremity synergies, all resulting in a faster, more stable gait.

Even Parkinson’s disease, a neuromuscular disorder, responds to Tai Chi training. A study in the New England Journal of Medicine, showed improvements in balance and movement control in people with mild-to-moderate Parkinson’s after just six months of twice weekly training. In fact, their balance improvement was four times that of the stretching group and twice the conventional muscle-strengthening group.

Cognitive: Fear of falling is one of the biggest predictors of falling. Those with a history of falls or impaired balance walk in a tentative, rigid, guarded and top-heavy manner because they are more fearful and “in their heads” because of that anxiety. They are less aware of their connection to the earth. The “grounding” training central to Tai Chi increases one’s connection to the earth, creating a more stable feeling when weight-bearing. This “rooted,” relaxed, sinking feeling is called “sung” (pronounced soong) in Chinese and being “sung” increases connectedness to the earth and balance confidence. One study found that Tai Chi training significantly reduced the fear of falling, even compared with computerized balance training, reducing the fall rate by half.

Tai Chi’s emphasis on integrated, continuous, and simultaneous movements of the arms, legs and waist, controlled directional changes, memorization of sequences, coupled with a heightened awareness of breathing, posture, and inner sensations of weight shifts all contribute to its efficacy in improving dynamic balance. But it has also been shown to improve bone density, obviously an important factor in fall outcomes. Studies have found that high-intensity resistance and strength training is not an absolute necessity to increase bone health. Low-impact exercises like Tai Chi may reduce bone loss as well, especially in women with osteopenia or osteoporosis, a group less likely to do other, more demanding, high-impact exercises. Several studies have compared people who had been doing Tai Chi for at least seven years to the same age individuals in the same community who had not. The Tai Chi groups have greater bone density of the spine and hips, and the rate of decline in bone density at increasing age is slower. These improvements in bone density were also seen in other studies after only 6-9 months of Tai Chi practice.

Conclusion: Tai Chi is an effective and accessible method for the improvement of dynamic balance and reduction of the incidence and disabling consequences of falls and their financial impact on the sufferer and the healthcare system as a whole.

References for all the statistics and studies noted above and further information can be found at the following:

Falls Among Older Adults: An Overview by The Centers forDisease Control and Prevention

Broken Hips: Preventing A Fall Can Save Your Life by Lauren Silverman, NPR

Improving Balance with Tai Chi by Gaye Cronin, OTD, OTR

The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi by Peter Wayne, PhD

Translation of an Effective Tai Chi Intervention Into a Community-Based Falls-Prevention Program

Steps to Avoid an Accident by Katie Hafner (NY Times)

Bracing for the Falls of an Aging Nation by Katie Hafner (NY Times)

Tai Ji Quan: Moving for Better Balance

Transforming traditional Tai Ji Quan techniques into integrative movement therapy

Preventing Falls: What Works

Tai Chi and fall reductions in older adults: a randomized controlled trial

Balance by Scott McCredie

Sifu Greg Brodsky is the founder of Santa Cruz Tai Chi. He wrote this in 2006

Most of the new students who come to our classes declare less interest in becoming martial artists than in gaining inner balance, a sense of peace, and improved health. They want a practice that will make them feel better and manage their lives better. Some seek healing for long standing medical problems. If they are 40 or older, they commonly report histories of physically limiting injury, surgery, or illness. These folks hope that t’ai chi can provide a sustainable, productive method for dealing with the residuals of harm to their bodies, and for cultivating well-being as the aging process becomes increasingly part of their consciousness. At the age of 64, and with considerable damage to my body, I can declare that daily t’ai chi practice helps. This article explores one aspect of t’ai chi’s method: presence of mind.

A New Language

Any effective approach to cultivating well-being must include outer work (physical, functional, interactive training and development) and inner work (mental, emotional, energetic, and spiritual discovery, attunement, training and development). T’ai chi provides all of these.

Whatever their age or level of wellness, engaging in self-cultivation requires students to learn how to use their bodies in new ways. They eventually realize that intrinsic strength is different from extrinsic strength, for example, that qi moving through the body has a unique feel to it, and that stepping with gravity relaxes them more than stepping against it. Assimilating new principles, new mechanics, and a new state of mind, it’s like learning a foreign language with ones whole body.

To make the t’ai chi learning process easier, practitioners historically have organized its components into addressable categories, such as: presence of mind, physical structure, mechanics of movement, breathing methods, and energetic experiences that can lead to physical healing and even spiritual transformation. The mind provides the foundational component.

It’s All In Your Mind

Human beings are habitual multitaskers. We like to do several things at once. We evolved this way for good reason, and our ability to do several things at once makes us capable of navigating the increasing complexities of the world in which we live. At the same time, life-threatening events like automobile accidents occur regularly because people fiddle with their radios, phones, hair, food, passengers, and abstract thoughts while steering one-ton vehicles through racing traffic. They arrive at t’ai chi class dragging the argument they had with their boss along with them, or the unfinished projects, frustrations, fears, and resentments of their professional lives and personal relationships. They stand there expectantly, ready to start, still sorting through the mental debris of their day, trying to calm themselves down and perk themselves up, hoping to get some peace of mind and much needed energy from practicing t’ai chi. For them, as for the rest of us, the first step in this practice is to show up. Physically showing up turns out to be the easy part. Mentally showing up—being present—proves more difficult.

Difficulties acknowledged, those who invest in presence find that the result can be supremely rewarding. Paying extraordinary attention to the immediate present frees us from the psychological burdens of our past traumas and imagined future dilemmas. Rather than regretting the past and worrying about the future, we bring ourselves into the moment. Being in the moment, our personal resources engage the real situation before us. We deal with what is there, rather than what we fear is there. Not acting on fear, we function more in accordance with our true nature and best capabilities. We also have more fun.

“All well and good,” you say, “But how does one ‘be’ in the moment?” Can a person focus the mind on what is happening both inside and outside and keep it Right Here, Right Now? There must be many simple ways to accomplish this.

What was I talking about? Oh, of course, presence. T’ai chi literature instructs the practitioner to gain presence by being intensely focused like a cat after a mouse, letting the body become loose, relaxed, and poised to move in new directions with the slightest input, and cultivating a light and agile inner spirit. This spirit manifests as serious on the outside and quietly playful on the inside. The loose, attentive state, while seemingly natural for cats and small children, typically takes years for most adults to cultivate, years that unfold one moment at a time. Being undistracted—present—for a growing number of those moments indicates something good about ones t’ai chi practice.

As a person who has struggled with his own level of presence, in my practice and life in general, I find that as an ever-useful starting point, simple sensory awareness works well. “Sensory awareness” means noticing what your senses are recording: what you see and hear right now; the temperature of the air on your skin; the moisture and warmth of your exhalations; the feeling of your body’s weight; the sensations in your back and chest and shoulders; tension and the relief of relaxing as you let gravity ground you. When we look, listen, and feel, our senses provide a doorway to presence.

Usually, I start classes with a minute or two of sensory awareness guidance, intermeshed with some reminders about alignment and looseness—gently ease the top of your head up toward the ceiling; release the kua (hip joint), knees, and ankles; loosen your shoulders, elbows, wrists and fingers; think “long spine, wide frame”—followed by some gentle warm-up breathing and movement. With a sense-heightening and self- tuning preparation, the rest of the practice becomes more satisfying. This simple opening makes it easier to become present.

Form Practice While Present

Once the form begins, ones internal awareness expands to include more of the external world. When practicing alone, this means sensing the fields in which you operate: the thick air that presses on your body to the tune of 14.5 pounds per square inch; gravity that brings you to earth and determines the meaning of “vertical alignment;” perhaps even the Earth’s electromagnetic field or the universal qi (energy) that makes the cosmos a unified thing (Only about four percent of the universe is matter, not enough for gravity to provide an explanation, yet something holds it together in a cohesive way; t’ai chi philosophy considers this “something” to be qi). T’ai chi teaches you to sense all of these. How? Pay attention. Quiet your random-access thinking and attend to your real-time experience. The quieter you are within yourself, the more you can sense.

When participating in a t’ai chi class, this is also time to pay exquisite attention to your teacher. People learn martial arts most effectively and efficiently when they treat their learning like a “monkey see; monkey do” process. The student’s job is to visually capture what the teacher demonstrates, supported perhaps by the teacher’s words, but more reliant on sight than language. A clear picture of your teacher’s movements is worth a thousand words and a dozen years.

To add context to this idea, ask yourself how your teacher will transmit what he or she has to teach you; will it be in words or deeds or simply his or her own state of being? How must you calibrate to your teacher in order to receive such a transmission?

Seeing, and later through physical contact, feeling what another person is doing enables you to calibrate to them, to tune in on their wavelength so that any kind of interpersonal transmission (communication) becomes easier. Once you align your mind with your teacher’s movement—seeing it, sensing the tempo, rhythm, quality, and specifics of your teacher’s actions, feeling the totality of his or her whole body analog (how one expresses one’s body/mind)—you can reproduce in some part what your teacher is doing. You might have only a few hours per week with a teacher, but having calibrated, captured, and learned how to recall this analog, you can have a mental representation of your teacher with you all the time.

An accurate mental snapshot of what you are doing at any moment also holds high value. Most people, in the beginning of the t’ai chi experience, don’t quite know where their body parts are in space. Are your feet parallel to each other or splayed outward? Where is your weight? You feel vertical, so why does your teacher say you are leaning? At what angle is your head? Competent placement of one’s arms, legs, and spine becomes more possible when our mind’s eye sees what we are doing.

You become better at the “monkey see; monkey do” learning process when you can jump back and forth between these two pictures frequently, quickly, and easily, using the inconsistencies between the pictures as triggers for self-correction. As your eyes go from your teacher to yourself and back to the teacher in rapid bursts, you can continually make adjustments in your position, mechanics, timing, and quality of movement. Once this becomes a habit, you find yourself continuously calibrating to your teacher through your peripheral vision. You could almost do it with your eyes closed. Almost; the key is to keep looking.

When practicing form alone, much of the looking turns inward. One can have a great deal to think about: alignment, breathing, mechanics, substantial, insubstantial, rising, sinking, opening, closing, the specifics of the movements themselves. Too much attention to detail and we can overwhelm our wonderful multi-tasking abilities; too little focus on the Now, and we can start daydreaming. Having a method to keep oneself present can prove useful. I find that sometimes a single word can provide that method.

To keep my mind from wandering, I sometimes focus exclusively on one element of the practice. Most often, the dantian (lower abdomen) holds my attention, but sometimes I “play” the top of my head, or soles of my feet, or spine, or some new sensation that I want to explore. Playing an entire round of form while never taking your mind off of single point of concentration provides quite an exercise!

When realizing that my mind has wandered, I bring myself back by silently thinking “this,” and I focus on my point of concentration. “This” is what I am doing, nothing else, no random thoughts, no conjectures, no sloppiness. Every breath, shift, and change of posture provide the opportunity to think about other things, and such wandering of thought usually occurs through an internal conversation (“…cool breeze; it might rain…how can I do this move better…wonder what’s for dinner….”). The gentle mental reminder, “This,” interrupts that conversation, bringing me back to simply paying attention to what I am doing…I am doing This.

Such attentiveness doesn’t occur exclusively through visual and verbal dimensions, though. Our attentiveness becomes more complete when we experience it as feeling as well. Whatever we perceive, and whatever ideas or principles we use to organize our actions, feeling makes it all real. Feeling enables us to experience dimensions of reality that don’t otherwise become available.

You know whether or not your t’ai chi works for you by how it feels. If the human animal within you gains well-being through your practice, you feel it. If your more primitive inner animal becomes secure enough to let you evolve sociologically, you feel that. If, through your practice, your ego gets worked in a healthy way, being calmed, tempered, and matured, your emotions tell you. When you discover a part of the path that was hidden to you before, and noticing its ramifications in your body, feel more connected to yourself and your peers, to the venerable masters who mapped the t’ai chi path, and to the universe at large, it could be that you are.

Western thinkers since the time of Descartes (“I think, therefore I am;” circa early 1600s) have considered the body and mind to be separate, but modern science challenges that separation. And, while we distinguish so-called “objective” thought from “subjective” emotions, both ancient Chinese concepts (e.g., heart-mind) and current cognitive theory recognize the unity of thought and emotions. Feeling turns out to be more than the body’s response to thought. Emotions shape the meaning and importance of what we think; moreover, they determine what we do about what we think.

When learning t’ai chi, there is no way into some aspects of the art other than feeling. Jin (internal strength), qi, stillness, alignment, sinking, rooting, emptying, and releasing, to mention a few examples, can only be experienced as feeling. You can’t explain your way into becoming quiet.

During, and at the end of your workout session, you might ask yourself what you feel. By answering this question simply and sensitively, and using the answers to adjust your routine, you can discover how to tune yourself in ways that concepts can’t achieve for you. Using your multitasking abilities to recognize your experience on more levels, ironically, you awaken a significant dimension of your presence.

Be clear about what feeling is and is not. Feeling is not analyzing. When I ask students what they feel (not how they feel), many of them want to provide an explanation or analysis of their experience: “I feel that I am less tense than yesterday,” or “I feel that I am doing a good job of remembering the moves, but that I don’t have them down yet” and so on. Rather than recognizing what they feel, they express what they think about what they feel. These opinions can be useful, perhaps, but not as a substitute for feeling.

If one pays attention to what one sees, hears, and feels, long-term practice leads to exquisite sensitivity in ones ability to feel subtle energies in ones own body, tensions and intensions in other people’s bodies, and the forces that surround us. Martial arts skills can be fun to develop and do a lot of good, but in a moment of danger, just as in a moment of learning, your presence can enable you to do the right thing.

The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi by Peter Wayne (2013) outlines eight active ingredients of TCC. These are summarized here:

1) Breathing: “Qi” is often translated simply as “breath.” In TCC it should be slow, regular, steady, and directed to the belly/lower dan tien. Some of the many health effects of simply breathing properly are: increased oxygen exchange, emotional regulation/calming via the autonomic nervous system (dampened sympathetic and enhanced parasympathetic response), an increased awareness of the inter-relationship between outer and inner/self and environment, internal organ “massage” via pressure changes from the contraction/relaxation of the diaphragm, enhanced flexibility of the ribcage and thoracic spine, and a mental quieting/meditative state from increased focus on the dynamics of the breath, encouraging the experience and enjoyment of “present moment consciousness.” The breath should be simply observed, without attempts to change the pattern or speed. Attention to the suspended, upright head posture improves the quality and depth of the breath.

2) Active Relaxation: The modern ethos in modern Western culture is “give it your all” and “push the envelope.” TCC counsels us to seek balance and avoid extremes of “doing” (yang) and non-doing (yin). All creation is a continuum of forces, not an opposition. This characterizes the idea of “song” or loosened/unbound. The joints of the body are always “song”– the “gates” are open but never collapsed. This respects individual physical limitations and lessens kinesiophobia or nervous guarding by never exceeding the body’s ability to embrace change out of pain or apprehension. The body is like a buoy floating on water.

3) Awareness: Focused attention or awareness is “ting.” It must be constant and ever-present during practice. It is “ting” that transforms the breath, slow movements, body positions and transitions of TCC into a movement meditation and “present moment consciousness.”

4) Intention: The directed focus of intention (yi) through mental imaging and visualization, commitment, and passion enhances the manifestation of internal energy.

5) Strength/Flexibility: TCC has been called (like yoga) a “metarobic” exercise. It compares to moderately-paced walking (3 mph) in its aerobicity. Unlike traditional aerobic exercise, however, the increased blood flow and oxygen exchange is appreciated in all body tissues, including the internal organs, not just the musculoskeletal system. TCC enhances muscular leg strength, dynamic tissue stretching, core stabilization, joint opening, and more efficient and coordinated whole body movement.

6) Structural Integration: TCC’s emphasis on the body as a unified energy field rather than a mechanical conglomeration of various “parts,” on vertical postural alignment and the elongation/expansion of all joints, on movement from the center of gravity (lower dan tien), on the consistency of the pace of movement and constancy of attention to the dynamics of physical postural changes and weight transfers, is the foundation of the integration of the psych-physical structure of the body.

7) Networking: The social and communal nature of a TCC practice in classes, parks, etc. and the regular exchange of concepts and skills common in these settings as well as during two-person “push hands” practice and drills, contribute a valuable psycho-social and anti-isolation component to the benefits of TCC.

8) Spirituality: All of the above factors are inherent in the unification of mind/body/spirit that is the essential nature and lesson of TCC: the fostering of mental and physical “balance,” the appreciation of the constancy of change, the adaptability and resilience from the non-opposition practices of yielding and redirecting energy forces, the enhancement of cellular health/homeostasis, the emphasis on individual responsibility and self-cultivation leading to a sense of self-efficacy and confidence as a pro-active participant in personal health through more conscious lifestyle choices, the effect of the meditative and ritualistic aspects of TCC on psychoneuroimmunology, all of which may ultimately lead to an examination of the question “What IS the self?” or Self-realization.

by Linda Myoki Lehrhaupt (an excerpt )

“Almost everyone who practices t’ai chi for a period of time will tell you that what began as a weekly class in a movement exercise became a study in living and personal growth. T’ai chi is a path of wisdom meditation, but it is also a path with heart–to ourselves first and, then like ripples spreading in a still pond, to everything and everyone around us…When we begin learning the t’ai chi form one of the first things we come up against is our desire to learn quickly, effortlessly, and perfectly. As every beginning student finds out, however, it takes time, effort, and patience to learn t’ai chi. It asks us to dedicate a part of our day to ourselves even when we don’t want to. It asks us to keep going, even when it looks like we’re going nowhere…In fact, learning t’ai chi is really a process of learning how to learn. This process is based on the understanding that what we discover about ourselves is just as important as simply performing a t’ai chi move correctly, if not more so. Learning how to learn includes developing the capacity to become intimate with our frustration and self-doubt. We see that what seemed like an obstacle can become an opportunity and, though small, can change our life entirely…

One of the central points of t’ai chi as a path of wisdom is finding our way to being at home with who we are. In the beginning we often approach learning t’ai chi with a self-critical attitude that does not allow us to be either patient or comfortable with ourselves. We apply the competitive spirit that is so valued in our world, leading us to judge ourselves constantly, to set up standards of discipline that are difficult to attain, or to undermine ourselves with harsh critical comments. But as Pema Chodron, a Tibetan Buddhist teacher, writes so beautifully in The Wisdom of No Escape, ‘Meditation practice isn’t about trying to throw ourselves away and become something better. It’s about befriending who we are already.’

If we practice t’ai chi as a path of wisdom, we will see that it continually asks us to open ourselves and to let go of those destructive ideas and acts that weaken our spirit and undermine our intention. It will lead us through the process of acknowledging our strengths without pride and recognizing our weaknesses without scorn. To work with ourselves in this way feels exactly the same as when we help a baby stand up after she has fallen down. We take her by the hand and wait patiently for her to stabilize on her own two feet. Then we give her a big kiss, let go of her hands, and say, ‘Go ahead, sweetie, Try again!’ That is the heart of practice…

If we can think of our t’ai chi practice as an invitation to someone dear to us, it will help us to take care of ourselves as we would a good friend. If a friend is tired or hungry, we help him or give her something to eat. If he feels low, we try to be there for him. If her muscles are tight, we get out the body oil and clear the dining table to serve as a massage table. It all happens, it all unfolds, because we naturally want to support a friend.

When you stand up to do the form you are being there for yourself as you would be for a friend if she or he needed you. It is extremely helpful to think in these terms because it encourages us to be kind to ourselves. It helps to counter a tendency to want to run away from practicing because we are afraid of failing or because it’s too lonely to train by ourselves. When we treat our t’ai chi practice as an opportunity to dance all aspects of our life, we embrace it all…”

Although T’ai Chi Ch’uan has been called the perfect example of Taoist principles expressed in the human domain, one does not need to know anything about Taoism or its principles and precepts to practice, enjoy, and benefit from the practice of T’ai Chi since our practice is unconcerned with the world of thoughts, concepts, or any other “things.” What we practice (The Form) is an ever-changing, ever-transforming series of movements or shapes without fixity or stasis. There is only change, only transformation: the transition between yin and yang. Every spiritual tradition has a defined or implied cosmology: a story about the origin of the universe–about how the world as we perceive it comes into existence. Although it is not necessary to know about Taoist cosmogony, it is constructive to ponder its principles, and to appreciate that creation is ongoing still in every moment and that it is this realm we are exploring when we practice T’ai Chi Ch’uan. In traditional Taoism, this cosmogony is uniquely devoid of symbolic deities, focusing instead on energetic and elemental principles. The basics are as follows:

1: In the beginning, there was an endless void, known as Wu Chi, or Tao. The Tao is a universal energy, from which all things emanate.

2: From this vast cosmic universe, from Tao, the One emerges.

3: As the One manifests in the world, it divides in two: the Yin and the Yang, complementary conditions of action (Yang) and inaction (Yin). This stage is called T’ai Chi (without the ch’uan) and represents the emergence of duality/polarity out of the Unity of Tao. The “dance”­– the continual transformations of Yin and Yang­–fuels the flow of qi (chi). In Taoist cosmology, Qi is in constant transformation between its condensed material state (particle) and its dilute energetic state (wave).

4: From this dance of Yin and Yang emerges the five elements: wood (lesser yang), fire (greater yang), metal (lesser yin), water (greater yin), and earth (central phase). Also produced here are the eight trigrams (Bagua) that form the 64 hexagrams of the I Ching. This stage represents the formation, out of the initial Yin/Yang duality, of the elemental constituents of the phenomenal world.

5: From the five constituent elements comes the “world of 10,000 things,” all of manifest existence–all of the objects, inhabitants, and phenomena of the world we experience. Human beings, in the Taoist cosmology, are among the Ten Thousand Things—a variety of combinations of the Five Elements. Spiritual growth and change, for Taoists, is a matter of balancing the Five Elements within the person. Unlike many religious systems, human beings are not regarded as something separate from the natural world, but another manifestation of it.

Another way of describing this process is to say that these stages represent the descent of energetic consciousness into physical form. Taoist mystics, using various Inner Alchemy techniques, are said to be able to reverse this sequence of events and return to the energetic, blissful realm of Tao, or “enlightenment.” The practice of Taoism, in general, is an attempt to perceive the presence and workings of the universal Tao in the Ten Thousand Things and live in balanced accord with it.

Although “T’ai Chi Ch’uan” is often translated as “supreme, ultimate fist,” a more useful translation is: an exercise or movement in “the realm where Yin and Yang play.” Through this practice we learn how to move and interact in the “world of 10,000 things” (thoughts, emotions, other people, life experiences, etc.–all of manifest existence) without being drawn away from our essential nature. We can participate in the realm of “doing” while consciously remaining in the realm of “being.”