Month: November 2007

The First Classic

It seems a little strange to me that a book called T’ai Chi Classics should devote only 36 pages to three classics and most of those 36 pages are devoted to commentary on the classics rather than to the classics themselves.

The first classic is a treatise by Master Chang San-Feng and consists of short, pithy statements like:

The internal energy, ch’i, roots at the feet, then transfers through the legs and is controlled from the waist, moving eventually through the back to the arms and fingertips.

Which, in turn, is followed by a longer, though still short in its own right, commentary from Waysun Liao:

Master Yang Chien-hou (1839-1917), son of Master Yang Lu- chan, liked to remind his disciples of this principle many times during his daily T’ai Chi instruction.

After achieving some success in ch’i awareness practice, the T’ai Chi student should learn how to lower his ch’i feeling down to the ground and then project it upward from his feet through his legs. Therefore, in T’ai Chi practice, always keep your knees bent slightly to allow flexibility; never straighten your legs completely. This will allow the vibration of your internal energy to be transmitted from your feet through your knees to your waist.

Note that the T’ai Chi Classics use the term root, which emphasizes the importance of the feet. Both feet must always stay firmly attached to the ground, as strongly as the roots of a big tree. Also, the feeling of internal cenergy must penetrate deep into the ground, instead of merely being attached to the surface.

After projecting the ch’i upward, your waist serves as a transmitter; it controls, guides, and distributes the direction and amount of internal energy.

Keep your back and your entire torso in a vertical position, to allow the vibrations to travel freely upward through your back to your shoulders. Keep your shoulders completely relaxed to allow the transmission of ch’i down to your elbows and up to your fingertips. Always keep your elbows dropped and relaxed; your wrists are relaxed, but not limp.

It was this idea of â€?”rooting,” of drawing energy from the earth, that first struck me in T’ai Chi and reminded me of Taoism’s roots in shamanism, drawing your power from earth forces. Perhaps that’s why I’ve particularly enjoyed it when T’ai Chi groups have met in the summer to practice in wooded areas.

It’s a practice that seems to have been ignored in Western culture, unless you’ve practiced being a lineman in football or learned how keeping low can help you to react more quickly to your opponent’s movements in basketball.

The Small Things in Life

When it comes to bird pictures, most people prefer pictures of raptors, particularly Bald Eagles, and I’ll admit I’m always trying to get a better shot of eagles or hawks than I’ve already taken. However, my real fondness is for the small birds most people ignore.

Perhaps it’s because of the challenge of getting a good shot of small birds that use their speed and elusiveness to avoid becoming a meal, while larger predators confidently sit in plain sight on top of the tallest tree around, alone at the top of the food chain.

So, though I was quite happy to get the shot of the eagle that I used yesterday, I was even happier to get this shot of a Bonaparte’s Gull, one of the smallest of the gulls that migrates through our area.

Bonaparte's Gull

I spent much longer trying to get a good shot of this bird than I spent on the eagle picture. Of course, I can always find an eagle or two to take a picture of, but I’ve only seen Bonaparte’s Gulls one other time in the three years I’ve been birding. Even though the four gulls kept a considerable distance between us, they were skittish every time I pointed a lens at them and their white feathers made it difficult to figure out the best exposure.

It’s much easier taking pictures of Song Sparrow, as evidenced by the fellow on my front porch this spring, but I was still pleased by this handsome pose,

Song Sparrow

one that looks even better when it’s blown up full screen size at full resolution rather than resized so that it doesn’t take three days to view on your computer.

I also spent quite awhile trying to get a good shot of these Golden-Crowned Sparrows who were feasting on the same trees where I took pictures of the Cedar Waxwings a week or so ago, except these guys were much shyer and kept the tree between me and themselves, which explains the mysterious, soft-fuzzy touch in the middle of the bird.

Gold-Crowned Sparrow

Of course it helps to get pictures of shy birds if you can find a major food source and simply wait awhile. Birds will stay away at first, but will continue eating if they decide you’re relatively harmless. I’d sure like to plant one of these trees in my yard if I knew what it was because it produces tons of fruit and attracts a wide variety of birds.

Relax

One of the things I like best about T’ai Chi is that I usually feel energized, not tired, after practice. Of course, that’s not always true, particularly when I first started. It’s stressful trying to learn something new, and stress, and repetition, always makes me tired. However, the longer I practice and the better I learn moves, the less stressful it becomes. Once I’ve learned a section of the form, practicing that section at home is revitalizing, not tiring.

Relaxing is a vital part of T’ai Chi, a part most beginners find extremely difficult to practice, particularly when holding positions. Waysun Liao points out that Master Yang, the one who started the branch of T’ai Chi I’m learning, stressed relaxation:

As Master Yang reminded his students constantly, “Relax; relax completely, as if the body is transparent.” And Master Cheng advised, “Relax; each joint, each part of your body should open up and be loose.” Unless you reach a state of total mental and physical relaxation (shoong), the flow of ch’i cannot be felt. Therefore, the T’ai Chi practitioner should spend a great deal of time meditating in order to gain awareness of ch’i.

I’d have to say that over three fourths of the instructor’s corrections during practice have been moving my form towards a less-rigid, more relaxed position.

While part of the tightness comes from improper positioning of the arms or legs, much of it comes from trying too hard to master various positions.

Mental relaxation is much more important than physical relaxation, because mental tension will undoubtedly cause physical stiffness. Beginners should start with a calmed mind, progress to a totally relaxed body, and then meditate with the universe. This will allow the practitioner to sense the rhythmic power waves of the universe and to eventually increase the awareness of the ch’i circulation within the body, as if it circulated with the entire universe.

Perhaps it’s just me since I’ve always seemed to have two left feet when it comes to dancing, the critical part of T’ai Chi is establishing a rhythm that can carry you through all of the positions. When I think too much, I often end up in a herky-jerky sort of motion rather than the continuous flow that I’m aiming for.

It’s hard for me to believe at this stage, but Waysun Liao says one danger is that students will begin to practice mindlessly:

In the beginning it is imperative that a great deal of attention be paid to the mind, the body, and the new forms that have to be learned. As time goes on, however, the forms become much easier. The physical movements require so little effort, in fact, that they can be performed without the student having to pay any attention to what is being done. All too often, T’ai Chi becomes a mechanical routine, and the student ignores the important mental aspects of the discipline completely. This attitude, which develops gradually, can paralyze mental development.

While I haven’t seen any signs of that happening yet in my practice, I’ve certainly had that happen in the past with other forms of physical exercise, like the Army’s daily dozen.

Still, if you consider T’ai Chi as a form of meditation, as I do, you’ll realize Waysun Liap is right when he states:

In T’ai Chi practice, concentration on the entire body and mind is needed to achieve a state that increases ch’i awareness and serves as the foundation for progress in the art. The T’ai Chi Classics say that “whether you are doing a Ward Off Form, a Rollback Form, Press, or Push, you should concentrate on the real practice.” Master Cheng explains: “You have to look into its real meaning instead of paying no attention to what you are doing; otherwise a Ward Off Form won’t be a Ward Off Form, and a Rollback Form won’t be a Rollback Form any more.” Because the true T’ai Chi practitioner works by exercising the mind and body together, not paying attention to what you are doing means that you won’t be in the state of T’ai Chi. You will only be performing a T’ai Chi like exercise, which cannot be considered true T’ai Chi practice.

Staying Alive

While out walking at the Theyler Wetlands in Belfair today a teacher and a group of students told me that they had seen a coyote in the large field that borders the wetlands. Although it was no longer in sight, I figured that if I just listened for the outpost

Canada Goose on Watch

to start cackling I would soon spot the coyote, and it didn’t take long for my theory to bear fruit. It wasn’t ten minutes and the flock was flying in circles honking loudly.

Sue enough, a rather large coyote came trotting across the field, though he seemed to be more intent on chasing mice than on catching geese.

Coyote

Good thing, too, as the flock of geese was more than ready to tell the world about any potential threat.

I suspect the geese would have been even more nervous if they’d realize that another predator was just down the trail. And this one would come from an entirely different direction:

Bald Eagle Taking Off

Though I’m pretty sure he, too, was looking for an easier meal — migrating salmon — since he was on a tall fir bordering the creek.

The more I observe geese, commonly regarded locally as pests and sometimes poisoned by State agents when residents complain, the more admire their survival skills. They seem to have evolved a highly sophisticated survival system, which includes separating from the flock for breeding and reforming it to better survive the winters. Still, it makes me wonder how the geese decide whose turn it is to be on watch and whose turn it is to catch a snack.