Information is not knowledge is not widsom.

Information applied is knowledge. Knowledge experienced is wisdom.
D. Mason

Information is not knowledge, and knowledge is not wisdom. Information applied is knowledge, and knowledge experienced is Wisdom.

While it felt really good to be back in class, it didn’t. I’m not the best study when I’m on my own, so class offers 3 hours of instruction and motivates me to get in at least one good workout a week. Also, working with other students, we take the time to explore little nuances of our form — something, again, I’m not the best at doing when left to my own devices.

And yet, I didn’t miss some of it. I think it’s mostly the corrections class and that it has something to do with the class size and commitment. The corrections class has about 30 students, compared to about a dozen in push hands and even less in sword. Selfishly, more students means less individual time. Also, there are a number of students who don’t seems to improve or care about improving. They are there for their once-a-week t’ai chi session (they don’t practice outside of class).

Of course it’s great that they are there and I feel like a heel for expressing “displeasure” with them. I guess that’s why I’m writing this — as a cathartic exercise for me to get over it. Part of t’ai chi is relaxing and letting go.

Push hands and sword don’t have this problem (for me) simply because their very nature attracts more dedicated and serious students.

I really need to just let go and let others do what they want to do. Anyone else have this problem?

I had been nervous all day — I left for work in the morning and wouldn’t be home until around 11:00 pm. That meant I’d only see a bleary-eyed Sarah for a few minutes and I wouldn’t see Olivia until the next day. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go to class or stay for all three of them — I just thought about the girls all day.

As soon as we started the form in corrections class I could feel my muscles relax and all my worries drain away. It felt really good to be out.

Even with the little practice I’ve been doing at home, doing the form with some 20 other people is much different. After the stress and tension melted away, my joints began to loosen up to their old state. I was surprised at how quickly my body recovered to it’s pre-neglected state.

After the corrections class I was completely relaxed and ready for push hands. Since I hadn’t played push hands for an even longer time that the form, I figured I would just get pushed about by pretty much every one. Much to my surprise, I think I was even better than before. I wasn’t in a caring mood — it simple didn’t matter if I got pushed out or not. And that mindset allowed me to be receptive to what my partner was doing, and to not worry about doing anything myself.

With Sarah getting ready to go back to school, time alone and away for both of us will be very important. I plan on going to t’ai chi every week and Sarah is going to get back to the gym. I think it should really help us both.

Am I in it for the health benefits? Some spiritual awakening? Martial prowess? Self awareness? All of this? None of this?

I guess my answer would be a bit of everything. While I’m in pretty good health, t’ai chi has certainly helped eliminate little nagging aches and pains that I use to have. The Taoist aspects also appeal to me, as do the martial applications. And learning about one’s body and discovering all the bits and pieces therein is truly fascinating.

When I began t’ai chi 5 years ago it was mostly out of sheer curiosity. It was simply fun learning the form. But I have long since “known” the form. So why keep going to class? I could simply stay home and practice every day.

Except it wouldn’t be the same. Class provides focused time to work with my self and others on small aspects, leading to greater self awareness, which, in turns, leads to greater external awareness. Just last night, for example, Kim helped me figure out why my right hip doesn’t work like my left. You would think that I could control my own hip and know what it’s doing, but that just isn’t the case. Additionally, during Push Hands exercises I had a “delicious moment” (as we call them) while working with another student. She was sinking her root down her back leg and I not only felt it, I caught it, got my chi underneath it and was in control. It literally felt like her entire weight rested effortlessly in the palm of my hand and that I could mover her around at will.

So, why am I in class? Because I keep learning something new about myself, about others and about the world. I also harbor a secret desire to be one of the best t’ai chi sword practitioners — but that is going to take a lot of time and effort.

What about you? What do you practice and why?

Now that the holidays are over and we are back to regular classes, I’m going to try to establish a regular routine at home. What worked in the past was practicing right when I got home from work. I’m going to try to set aside 30 minutes everyday.

In the past I have also chosen one small thing to work on during the whole semester. Again I have been remiss. Last week Kim corrected my shoulders again. So, I dedicate the next 18 weeks to focusing on getting my shoulders/upper arms to be relaxed and alive.

(Side note: I should also try to write about t’ai chi more. I just check my archives and there are very few posts.)

Practice, practice, practice.

Now that I know all of the moves I feel like I can start to concentrate on getting under the sword and getting my weight to sink into the ground. Currently I wave the sword around a bit and am generally off balance in almost all of the spins.

Perhaps I’ll do a photo essay on the form one of these days. It could prove to be a handy reference.

But, the thing is, it actually seems to reflect life. Or at least my t’ai chi. I go about practicing t’ai chi and after a while I begin to get frustrated. I won’t seem to be showing any improvement, in fact I often feel quite the opposite.

Then in one instant, I will leap ahead and feel that I have actually reached a new level of the craft. My form feels and looks better. My push hands is better. I seem to actually level up like some silly role playing character. I have gotten this feeling about once per year and I’m not alone. Some of my classmates have expressed the same feeling — lack of progress, then one big jump ahead.

So, I reckon I’m about 4th level now…. (I guess that’d be a 4th level monk.)

Oh, I just realized that I have been practicing the sword form for just over a year now. Wow, that went by fast. One year and I still haven’t learned the entire routine. Believe it or not, that makes me happy. I am in no hurry.

Learning T’ai Chi is just as much art as doing T’ai chi. Instead of waiting for T’ai Chi to come to them, many students want to suck the life out of T’ai chi too quickly.
— Ralph A. Johnson, from T’ai Chi, Dec. 1999.

I just read an article, “Using T’ai Chi in Everyday Life,” and it reminded me of something I said, I believe in this column, some time ago: you can learn all of the postures of t’ai chi in about a year’s time. After that you can begin to learn t’ai chi. After a couple of years of that you can begin to see everything you don’t know.

Last week my teacher was talking about opening up our hips; a very important and difficult thing to do. And yet, it should be easy. For example, curl your hand up into a fist. Now, put your mind in that fist and think “relax.” The fingers release their tension and the fist uncurls. Now do that same thing with your hip. Can you even get your mind inside the hip? Can you feel the joint, let alone the individual muscles there? Probably not.

And yet it is your body just as your fist is. Why isn’t it as easy? Mostly, I suspect, because we don’t think about our hips in those terms. (Or our elbows, shoulders, knees, ankles, etc.) In fact, as a beginning t’ai chi student I couldn’t think in those terms. Now that I am starting my fifth year of study I can begin to put my mind into those various places and learn to control the minute parts of my body.

Today was a prime example. I had a very bad headache at work today. So bad I left early. (It was just shy of migraine status, which meant that I could still drive.) The pain caused the muscles at the back of my skull to tense up. This pulled on my jaw (at the joint), my shoulders and up around my ears. By putting my mind in the back of my skull (a bit redundant, but I think you know what I mean), I was able to release that tension. In so doing I could feel my shoulders drop, a rather large hunk of meat we have all experienced. I could then feel the finer muscles relax and the tension left my jaw, allowing it to relax and slide back to its normal position. Finally I could feel the extremely fine muscles and the skin on the back of my head, up towards the top and behind my ears relax.

The headache in that area subsided greatly. (The extreme pain in my eyes continued, however.) I had to keep coming back to this as the headache wasn’t gone — if I wasn’t careful the muscles would tense right back up again — but I at least had some control. After a nap, the rest of the headache finally dissipated.

John S. said, “Do you follow any of their teachings?”

“Well, that’s the problem…”

You see, I can’t say that I’m a Taoist because then that wouldn’t be Taoism. The only thing I can say is that I think it is closest to what I believe. Whatever that is. This goes along with my discussion of T’ai chi the other day. The only thing we can do is talk around the topic and use more metaphors to sort of point to that spot over there without actually pointing at it. It’s kind of like (here we go with the metaphor) trying really hard not to look at the lady with the big pink hat with parrots on it while getting your friends to notice it without looking. As soon as you look, either she’s moved on, or it’s just a silly hat – but not The Mythic Pink Hat of Birds.

Is anyone following this? (I’m not sure I am.)

Somehow this all reminds me of Plato’s Cave of Shadows. (You know, we see shadows of things but not the things themselves.)

But at any rate, I believe there is a right and proper way to live in accord with everything else in the universe. What that way is I can’t tell you. I can’t tell myself. It’s just there, inside my heart-mind. Inside my bones. Something ancient and wonderfull that says “yes, I’m here.” Get it?

* Let’s just say it was a night of which Warren Ellis would be proud. I think.