At a certain point in the evolution of learning the form, a qualitative change takes place. One typically begins by memorizing a list of positions; “My arm goes here, then my foot moves over here,“ and so on. At this point practicing the form consists of referring in our minds to this list and going through this list in our heads to perform the form. This list might be likened to the training wheels that are sometimes temporarily installed on the sides of a child’s first bicycle, until the child learns the skill of balancing the bike without them.
Once these positions are memorized and referring to the list is no longer necessary, the mind is freed to attend to the balance. It is at this point that the real T’ai Chi begins. This is because the balance is always here and now.
Attending to one’s balance brings us into the present moment. When this process begins, the form is transformed into a most powerful form of meditation, a state of consciousness in which we are directly attending to that which is right before us and our attention is no longer occupied by thoughts in our head.
Meditation
Meditation may be described as the process of attending to what is here and now. Just as a driver cannot really attend to the road while he/she is texting, if we are thinking about what we said yesterday, or what we want to do tomorrow, or even looking at a list in our minds, we are not able to be fully present.
Attending to our balance, by bringing us fully into the present moment, allows for a crystal clear focus of the attention to evolve. This ability to focus may then replace the endless list of solutions that our insecurities require us to carry. Instead of this list, a zen like ability to create solutions as needed is cultivated by nurturing the ability to really attend to problems as they arise, in the present.
We get better at the things we practice, and by practicing the honing of our attention in our form, our T’ai Chi may strengthen our attention immensely.
The Emperor and the Artist
Once upon a time, in ancient China, there was an Emperor who heard about a famous artist that could capture the essence of what he painted in a most wondrous way. He sent for the artist and commissioned him to create a portrait of himself, the Emperor. The artist of course agreed to the Emperor’s desire, and took the commission.
After a period of several months had gone by, the Emperor said, “Where is my portrait?” The artist said that it wasn’t ready yet. More time passed, then more, and the painting still wasn’t ready. The Emperor’s patience reached it’s limit, and he called for his administrators. They assembled a large retinue and proceeded with the Emperor to go to the Artist’s home to demand the completion of his painting.
When he arrived, the artist greeted the Emperor and said he was ready to paint the portrait. He set out his paints, easel, and canvas, and in just a few moments, painted the most amazing portrait of the Emperor. The painting seemed to glow, and it expressed all of the most wondrous attributes of the Emperor.
The Emperor was delighted. He asked the artist, “Why did you make me wait?” “This only took you a few seemingly effortless moments!” The artist led the Emperor to a door that opened to a back room. In it were hundreds of the artist’s many month’s of practice and earlier attempts.
I once watched a demonstration of Mr Chow painting a bird. He would dip his brush into several colors, and then, when his brush touched the paper, with a few strokes he created an exquisite bird. All of the colors were in exactly the right places!
