Going with the ups & the downs. How do you ‘convert’ one movement to another in Tai Chi or Qigong? Perhaps, if I can understand these changes, for example, when the body starts to move back when it’s been going forwards, or turns left when it’s been turning right, I’ll be able to use it as a tool to understand the way in which I deal with change in my everyday life. So, if I can make sense of that transition in Tai Chi and understand how to make it feel unforced and comfortable, with a sense of liquidity, I hope to be able to apply those principles to the changes of everyday existence, and get life’s unexpected alterations to work more smoothly.
Changing from Yin to Yang; what is ‘change’? At some stage, energy will always alter to its opposite.
When the universe has reached its furthest point of expansion, it will start to contract.
When summer has run its course, autumn takes over.
When a human has grown to his/her full size, he/she will start to shrink.
When you’ve finished breathing in, you have to breathe out.
You cannot always cycle downhill; at some point you’re going to have to go uphill.
One bacterium, amoeba, mollusk, insect, fish, or animal gives up its life to prolong the life of another.
… and so on; everything ultimately degenerates and turns back into earth (given enough time, again) – more food for the bacteria, which will produce the next plant, etc.
So, to repeat… Energy alters to its opposite at some stage, this being one aspect of the concept of Yin and Yang.
How can we feel this change in taiji & qigong? When performing taiji/qigong, some people do not really ‘finish’ a move, i.e. don’t allow a move to reach its natural conclusion. They might do a forward movement, stop, do the next (backward) movement, stop, then the next, stop, etc., etc. Even if they don’t ‘stop’, there is a break in the ‘flow’ of the movement. By ‘natural’ I mean that first of all they aren’t feeling where and how a movement naturally changes into the next movement. Yes, they do the movements in the right order, but the movements are almost mechanical, and are coming from the head and not from any sense of awareness of body elasticity.
What does this mean in real terms? To experience this, breathe in, and before finishing the in breath, breathe out, and then again before finishing the out breath, breathe in… etc. The whole process becomes forced with your taking excessive control of your respiration.
So how do you breathe with fluidity, sensitivity, and awareness? You don’t control it, you become an observer and you feel. I’m not saying that you can’t control it, but the respiratory system tends to work better when you leave it alone, especially when you observe where the in or out breaths naturally end. When you do this, there is an internal softening; no tightening occurs in the tissues, and perfect fluidity is achieved.
The basic exercise. First of all you need to find this ‘point of change’. Finding this feeling of change is very easy; all you need is a movement that is simple, but is absolutely clear as to where its energy ‘runs out’, leaving no option other than either to stagnate, or to change into its opposite.
This is a very simple exercise; it’s sole aim at this stage is to show (as far as is possible) the extremes of Yin & Yang.
In other words, you reach the end of a movement, and there is no choice other than to go back to where you began. It’s only an exercise with the sole intention of demonstrating one idea.
Experiencing the moment of change too abruptly. So then there’s the opposite where, in effect, you mistime the change. You’re arguing with someone and suddenly realise that you’ve totally missed the point. You drive round a 90 degree bend too fast. You’re not watching the temperature of the chocolate that you’re tempering and take it 2 degrees too high, destroying the beta crystals. You don’t feel the wind direction when sailing, and accidentally, and forcefully, jibe. In other words, we experience everything differently if it catches us unawares. If we’re watching, everything tends to go more smoothly.
The moment of change. So how do you create gentle and appropriate change? How do you convert that moment at a party when you’re talking to someone and have exhausted all the mutual topics and you can’t see a polite way out? The moment of change of any kind needs a softening and a considerable amount of awareness and sensitivity. In Taiji and in Qigong, you need to feel this change with your whole body; there is no jarring in the change. [This is one of the reasons for doing some pushing hands in a class; when you first begin to do partner work, you can really discover your own clumsiness – something that is much harder to feel when doing solo taiji].
The sensitive gardener. This sensitivity is similar to that required when pulling an unwanted weed out of a flowerbed. You can’t pull hard, and you can’t pull too softly; you have to try to feel the weed, right to the bottom of its roots as you pull. The same applies when doing Tai Chi moving from one position to another. We’re all familiar with the Chinese method of teaching Taiji or Qigong by number:
Raise your hands to shoulder-height
Bend your knees lowering your arms… etc.
The silk thread connection. But the sensitive moment – the change, takes place where ‘2’ takes over from ‘1’ (or ‘1’ gives way to ‘2’). It requires softening, release, and Song (see previous blogs: 1, 2, & 3 -part 2), and needs to be achieved with such fluidity and smoothness that, instead of two movements, there is in fact only one, with the apex of movement 1 feeling as though it’s ‘melting’, ‘transmuting’, or ‘metamorphosing’ into movement 2. The move described above might look like a vertical line that rises and falls, but inside it there is the feeling of a circle.
But you experience it several times a minute every day. We all know this really, you only have to breathe normally to see it. When you’ve finished breathing out, you don’t suddenly breathe in, you automatically find the apnea of the breath – that moment when it’s slightly unclear as to whether you’re still breathing out or you’ve started to breathe in, almost as though you’ve stopped breathing, but you haven’t. It’s a resting, a gentle loading up (or releasing?) of the spring, in archery it’s the moment when you ‘become one’ with your target, it’s the moment of focus and meditation.
No I only have to work out how to apply it to the rest of my life. ________________________________________________________________________________________________ James Drewe teaches Taijiquan and qigong in both London and in Kent. Details of weekly classes can be found on the website, and there are classes for 2-person Taijiquan on one Saturday a month.
CONTACTS: http://www.taiji.co.uk http://www.qigonghealth.co.uk Email: firstname.lastname@example.org Phone: 07836-710281 or 020-8883 3308 ________________________________________________________________________________________________