If you were to peek through the windows of my class, you would see a bunch of undulating bodies, aesthetically practicing and perfecting the every movement involved of the Yang style Tai Chi 6-form. Yet, when inside, you could hear the stories behind the motion, and know that every gesture involved has intent. If you know anything about me, you realize I am a huge fan of movement, stories and intent. All of them. No wonder this discipline has me so intrigued.
Physically, I realize what how great the benefit I have received in the gift of balance. I am not exaggerating when I admit that in the entire time that I have known myself, the perpetual truth is the assortment of red, purple and yellow bruises that have adorned my legs. Appearing so often so that I cannot even tell you where they came from. Forever sliding into thin door frames, and toppling over furniture, grace has never been a noun I could call my own. For the first time ever, and in just 8 short weeks, my legs are completely barren of the palette of those colorful and bitter caustics. And, in the icy season, no less.
From a self-defense standpoint, I am more confident than I ever have been. I have learned that in aiding an attacker with their own veracity will bring them down much faster than I. I feel like I can walk the earth without fear that I will be too weak to face the forces that were once a threat to my independence.
Emotionally, I am present. I realize is something that I have not been able to claim for a while. In Tai Chi, the physical works with the emotional in ways that are so simple, they almost go unnoticed. That is, until you notice them like a slap in the face.
Flowing water never becomes stagnant, a swinging hinge never rusts.
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