The Vital Force Archive

Dorene Krause invites the reader into a moment of ordinary silence, breathing into the soles of the feet, releasing the heaviness of the heart and letting stillness calm the mind.

John Marquez's pyramid poems on darkness, gratitude and silence are paired with anonymous workshop comments, including one widow who found faith in herself after losing her husband of 48 years.

A sequence of pyramid poems by Beverly Miles, moving from passing clouds and softness that beckons chi to an ode to Seijaku and a closing poem on conference connection and flowing gratitude.

Garo Nokhoudian's pyramid poems move from surrender and caring to Chi waking up playfully between the sheaths, ending with hang time when earth and sky beat as one.

John Marquez builds a pyramid poem from single words, moving from chi and movement through vibration, freedom and awareness to silence, breath and honest written speech.

Walter Charley, who learned T'ai Chi Chih in Sedona around 1976, recounts teaching groups of children in psychiatric hospitals, where depressed children lifted and anxious ones calmed; with pyramid poems by Beverly Miles and Johnnie Lee Marquez.

Ana Royal describes injuring her left knee reaching for a carry-on bag in Boston, the years of injections and medicated gel that followed, and how a year of daily TCC practice ended both.

Marcella Box introduces Lovena Warren, an 86-year-old accredited teacher whose free weekday Zoom practice restored her daily habit, and who led hurricane evacuees in T'ai Chi Chih from a shelter stage in 2005.

Nico Borneman likens a practitioner to a breaching whale who surrenders to fluidity, followed by pyramid poems from Lisa Stryoan, Terry Gay Puckett and KayRydeen on tanden, rain and rooting in Hawaiian sand.

Sak's paired poems, TCC Feet and TCC Hands, trace rocking from heel to toe, stepping side to side, palms gathering and letting go, and the healing sounds Ho, Hu, Szu, Hsu, Hsi, Chui.

Linda Jones teaches seated TCC to beginners and to chemotherapy patients who regained feeling in their fingertips, yet finds mental practice, with its complete weight shifts, the most powerful of all.

John Marquez builds a pyramid poem from the firm resting position outward to friendship, morning reading of centuries-past wisdom, self-responsibility, and students absorbing Justin's teachings until teacher and student merge.

Lisa Stroyan's poem, sparked by Lorraine Lepine's practice and Ann Rutherford's conference reference to kelp, names sensations of soft arms, uncurling fingers and resting on the energy sea.

Denise Alire practices T'ai Chi Chih barefoot on the sand by the bay, fretting over unfinished shopping and no cash, then finds two rolled twenty dollar bills at her feet.

George Manning's prose poem urges readers to uncover the Chi already within and 'say Chi' to each new beginning, followed by pyramid poems from Elizabeth S. and Jan Kirch on ducks, spring trees, daffodils and mist.

Carmen Brocklehurst credits Zen master Paul Reps with prompting Justin Stone to leave the stock market, explains why TCC was originated rather than created, and urges attention over habit energies; Clare Bradley's pyramid poems follow.

Linda Braga's rhyming poem questions a practice mirror about stance, weight shift, heels down and relaxed wrists, until the comparing stops, ego drops away and the flow arrives.

Roseann Heinrich's rhymed verse traces her path from needing calm, through twenty years of teaching, to the chi that now leads her to write poems each morning.

Verla J. Klassen's poem traces earth's energy entering through the soles of her feet: Rocking Motion on a Pacific beach, bare feet on ancient Minnesota gneiss, swans on a stream.

Cindy Nelson's short poem names the vibrant energy of the universe, active waves of life transforming with gold shards of experience, and a calm blue center supported by T'ai Chi Chih.

Victor J. Dougherty's poem listens to the silence of falling snow, following each flake to ledge, leaf, field or face, and finding that neither is ever in the wrong place.

Melissa Eichman's pyramid poem moves through glistening snow, patient stillness and a gentle breeze where yin and yang converge, ending with a soft walk across snow kissed earth.

A gathering of Pyramid Poems by Nathalie Miller, Monica Cejudo, Linda Jones, Rene Stramwasser and others on doing Nei Kung at night, trusting the blue sea, silence, and chi received in the t'an t'ien.

Deanna Shapiro answers talk of enforced stillness during shelter in place with seven stanzas likening stillness to a giving tree, a summer breeze, clear water, a loving friend and an orchestra's harmony.

Annette McNeil's rhyming ode addresses the coronavirus directly, tracking lockdown hoarding, overworked nurses, dolphins in the canals, and TCC students Yinning and Yanging all nineteen movements together on Zoom.

Denise Emanuel Clemen counts TCC as the most portable practice she owns, recalling sessions on the Grand Canyon rim, the Badwater Basin salt flats, and her brother's Maryland double-wide, followed by pyramid poems on silence.

Nancy Johnson's poem follows a walker who loses the way to a labyrinth, is set right by three strangers with big dogs, rests at the center, and spirals back out.

Rebecca Paulson describes an afternoon of teachers gathered at Holly Trenary's in Loveland, comparing how each presents the movements and asking whether adjustments let them feel the Chi more.

Sheryl Adair writes from her grandfather's rocker with coffee and the latest Vital Force in hand, thanking KG and contributors, followed by eight Pyramid Poems on Rocking Motion.

Jean Olszak's rhyming poem answers the question "What's in it for me?" with lower blood pressure, steadier balance, quieter joints, a clearer head and a brighter outlook.