The Vital Force Archive

Mary Kay Chavez, who lives three hours from her teacher Lorraine Lepine, describes how Zoom practice gave her the frequency, control and versatility that Facetime sessions could not.

Doriane Tippet compares the T'ai Chi Chih community to a forest where trees communicate through mycelium at the roots, crediting Northern Colorado's teachers with nurturing her from a weak seedling into a stronger practitioner.

Sue Bitney, practicing 18 years and teaching 15, describes the pandemic quiet that deepened her practice, learning Zoom for her classes, and a masked Saturday group at Lake Harriet with pinwheels marking six feet.

Terry Johnson's first T'ai Chi Chih class, set for April Fool's Day 2020, was cancelled by COVID-19, so she worked her local food bank instead and now practices in the park with a staff member who would have been her student.

Jim Hecker recalls Justin Stone asking him whether he had done T'ai Chi Chih that day, once or twice, and the answer Justin gave when asked why nine repetitions.

Sandy Roerig's November 2019 visit to fellow teacher Lisa in St George led her to sell her house, move within two months, and finally commit to a daily practice.

Rick Davis writes during the pandemic and civil unrest, finding emotional footing in the Bubbling Spring at the soles of the feet during Rocking Motion, Justin Stone's noonday shadow image, and the 13th century mystic Mechthild of Magdeburg.

Lesley Nell describes how she and Laurin McDonald, accredited in 2018, ran a Discovery Workshop in Banbury for wellbeing coaches and therapists in March 2020, just before lockdown.

Rick Davis wakes with chest pain and a whisper of fear, then finds during the next evening's neighborhood walk that his grounded weight shift has turned walking into moving devotion and gratitude.

Sue Kenney notes that most T'ai Chi Chih teachers are white women of middle and older age, and proposes demonstrations, diverse-led DVDs and YouTube materials, Zoom mentors and funding to reach younger people, men and people of color.

Justin Stone lays out the four observations of the Satipatthana or Way of Mindfulness practice - breath, state of mind, feeling-sensation and objects of mind - and recommends a half hour daily.

Linda Minor imagines the stress, resentment and ingratitude her life might have held without T'ai Chi Chih, and describes the sobering responsibility of now passing Justin Stone's gift to her own students.

Terry Jennings asks Hannah Hedrick whether teachers should charge for classes, and Hedrick describes teaching free for cancer, HIV and polio survivors while urging Terry to seek paid events.

After a question about Bird Flaps Its Wings arose in Sandy McAlister's Zoom teacher practice, Amy Tyksinski returns to Justin's written notes on flipping the wrists quickly while returning slowly.

Dorene Krause practices alone behind a deserted high school during the pandemic spring and watches her own shadow on the concrete, noticing an upside-down heart form as her hands carry the ball.

Hannah Hedrick describes practising three times a week in her yoga shed during the pandemic, private sessions for students with cancer, energy work for a dying fellow organizer, and a Down Syndrome class cut short by lockdown.

Writing during the social distancing of 2020, Dorene Krause reminds her students that T'ai Chi Chih cannot be learned overnight, that movements soften with time, and that it is practice, not perfect.

Justin Stone's point-by-point reminders for the movements a beginner has just learned, from loose arms and flat landings in Rocking Motion to drawing energy from the most distant star in Pulling in the Energy.

Lynne Roberts describes losing all six of her weekly Missoula classes to COVID-19 on March 13th, then finding a way forward through Zoom teacher practices she thanks by name.

Carmen L. Brocklehurst writes on what practitioners say after taking up the 19 movements and one pose, and argues that amid COVID-19 uncertainty TCC people can lead with peace and equanimity.

Lisa Otero, the first teacher to post on the new online directory at taichichih.org, describes logging back on after COVID-19 to find nearly 90 teachers' photos and bios waiting like a reunion.

Margery Erickson's poem asks when the strong women, imprisoned in their homes and paralyzed by fear of invisible attackers, will march forward again, acknowledging that some never will return.

Denise Emanuel Clemen lists the 2020 trips she canceled, from Oaxaca to Athens, each month returning to practice in her condo on Dakota land taken by the Treaty of Traverse des Sioux.

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.

Sharon Sirkis recounts her first Zoom class of seated T'ai Chi Chih, coaching a newcomer's beautiful smile through several movements before discovering it was Melissa's still photo, left behind after she logged off.

Lisa Stroyan replaced canceled travel with a birthday "staycation" of naps, nature walks and a distanced picnic, then invited her Zoom class to wear vacation clothes and travel inward.

Jeannette Stotts describes how her senior class moved to Zoom during the COVID-19 shelter-in-place, with teacher Benjamin Brisjar opening each session with Spiritual Odyssey readings and Justin and Carmen videos.

Deb Sitron's 89-year-old student at a Naples senior residence introduced her to his grandson at a fruit stand as "my Tie Dye teacher," and she let the mistake stand.

Sandy McAlister describes her own holding pattern during the COVID-19 shutdown, the nudge from Pam Towne that ended it, and how teachers turned to parks, mailed lesson plans and Zoom.

Dixie Adeniran uses the weightless pause at the top of a child's swing to describe T'ai Chi Chih transitions, tracing them through Around the Platter, Carry the Ball to the Side and Passing Clouds during COVID-19 solitude.