One Person’s Experience

Every morning I battle with myself to practice T’ai Chi Chih. Some days, a quiet suggestion proves successful. I practice and I remember. Other days, though I wake consistently and naturally at 5:30 A.M., the down comforter on my bed envelops my mind. Standing up and moving, even the effortless motion of TCC, requires such a force of will that it would be a violent disruption of the cottony peace and precious silent moments to practice before the harried pace of the day absorbed me. On those days, I choose to sit and meditate because the action of TCC is too much. Or I choose nothing.

Later, of course, comes a degree of guilt. “Why can’t I be an obedient, devotional type?” “Why must I experience this internal division, this rebellion so acutely?” Asking why is a necessary part of this process for me. But when I ask why with pointed dissatisfaction and anger, the internal wounding deepens and the ego-sense strengthens.

Last spring and summer I had such a tremendous resistance to TCC that I practiced only once or twice a week for a period of time. I did not teach and I examined the resistance closely during that time. At the conference, I mentioned my struggle to Ed Altman. He responded with the question, “What are you holding on to?” All along, I have been holding on to the notion of becoming as spiritually clear as one can become. I have been holding on to a notion of future perfection (with the implication of current imperfection.)

What is lacking in my personal relationship to TCC is a quality of gentle acceptance of self in the present moment. When a hope of future “gain” and a sense of ego attachment as “someone-who-practices-everyday-and-is-on-her-way-to-enlightenment” are released, then I push through the toughness of my mind. I give up on the “battle” and therefore am softened. The practice becomes integrated within me. It ceases to be a force outside of me. Everyday, I must remember again.

So, while TCC brings me joy and peace, it has also revealed an intense struggle within the valleys of my soul. We don’t hear much about the struggle. It is not easy, but it is never boring.