The Vital Force Archive

Barb Petroski took her first T'ai Chi Chih class at a "Women in the Outdoors" event and found that four months of practice ended the nerve pain in her leg.

Susan Kissinger describes noticing at the 2010 conference that other teachers transitioned between movements differently than she did, and returning to Seijaku after six years away from it.

Justin Stone writes that students come to T'ai Chi Chih for fitness and weight loss but find Chi bringing warmth, love and meaning, with children noticing their mother no longer yells.

Lucinda Kutsko describes how Working the Pulley went from difficult to favorite, and how Justin Stone's phrase 'swimming through heavy air' fell flat with students who had never learned to swim.

During the closing practice at the 2010 conference, Cleo Roemele saw the circle of teachers as a living cell, with membrane, cytoplasm, nucleus and organelles mapped onto bracelets, bowl and carpet.

Margery Erickson recounts hosting a 1997 accreditation in her converted weaving studio and now invites TCC teachers traveling through Pennsylvania or Maryland to stay, walk the six acres, and practice together.

Lucinda Kutsko announces the 2011 Teacher Conference, "Go With The Flow," set for July 21 to 24 at Sawmill Creek Resort on Lake Erie, with registration and travel details.

Carol Houtkooper's poem, offered at the 2010 conference, moves from centering and sinking into Mother Earth through letting go of chaos and buried dreams to the flowing Chi and the refrain that the circle of life goes on.

April Leffler likens the tan t'ien to a built-in GPS, recounting how a gut feeling steered her out of being hopelessly lost on Long Island after even the police could not help.

Justin Stone recounts how the phrase "Cosmic Rhythm" came to him during a meeting at Albuquerque PBS station KNME, then links seasons, tides and Japanese plum blossoms to regular T'ai Chi Chih practice.

Ann Sollars demonstrates tension versus softness in knees, wrists and shoulders to spark beginners' first recognition of held tension, and Chris Norkus describes building TCC community from remote practice, conferences and two weekly sessions.

Carmen L. Brocklehurst uses Justin Stone's instruction to notice your posture without changing it, then traces Rocking Motion from swinging arms to palms to mind to the t'an t'ien itself.

Stan Corwin and Vicki Schroeder split a beginners' course in Hendersonville, halfway between them, alternating sessions one through seven so each traveled half as often and students gained two teachers.

Amy Tyksinski offers prompts for Pulling Taffy Perpetual Motion and Working the Pulley, including Justin's weight-loss remark, Carmen's front-to-back comparison, and why the head stays forward during the waist turn.

Harriet Marquit connects softness to Working the Pulley, which she likens to a machine that keeps moving without us, and describes beach practice where sinking sand moves her along and porpoises appear during Pulling In The Energy.

Practicing above a North Georgia lake, Sheryl Adair distinguishes softness from limpness, comparing it to al dente pasta, and finds new roundness at the base of Bass Drum.

Dee Goss recounts learning T'ai Chi Chih from Harriet Marquit after retiring to Hertford, practicing summer mornings on the marina docks amid wind, jumping fish and curious onlookers, plus her take on Working the Pulley.

Larry Bloom argues that musing on softness requires considering hardness too, drawing on water in its many forms, a robin's egg, a golf grip, and a firm word to his son after he biked into traffic.

Sr. Antonia Cooper recounts the gratitude-themed international conference at Lied Lodge and lists the nine dreams teachers voiced for TCC's future, plus an invitation to the 2011 gathering at Sawmill Creek.

Linda Watson felt chi moving between her hands while spinning blue fleece into yarn, and links the softness of that work to Plato's account of the goddess Ananke and her spindle.

Sandy McAlister, who left the Mormon church at 20 angry at organized religion, describes hiding icons in retreat center drawers and later working closely for seven years with Sister Antonia.

Sheila Leonard describes how a herniated disc and a later flare-up reshaped her practice into genuine slow motion, culminating in a lakeside practice among ducks that left her grounded and softened.

Pam Towne calls Seijaku an integral part of T'ai Chi Chih rather than an optional extra, describing how its holding fast and letting go carried her through divorce and her parents' deaths, and pointing teachers toward 2011 accreditations.

Amy Tyksinski recounts losing control of a high school T'ai Chi Chih class, abandoning her flexible, entertaining approach for strict structure, and the candid end-of-term survey answers her chattiest student wrote.

May Swanson recounts eight years of donated teaching at The Wellness Community in Phoenix and the Veterans Hospital, including a dying student who sat through class and felt the energy.

Written at the New Jersey Intensive Training in April 2010, Dorene Krause describes the 19 movements as 19 chances to let go, inviting the Chi, softening into each weight shift, and settling into centered stillness.

Anthony Pagliarulo recounts directing chi to his wife during her lung cancer treatment, learning at retreats that TCC's innate intelligence made the effort unnecessary, and later returning to teach at the Phoenix Wellness Community that first helped him.

Bill Moore draws a parallel between New Jersey's overlooked farmland and shore and the Essence beneath TCC's outer form, citing a swamp grass sprout pushing up through newly paved asphalt.

A Herald Review feature by Diane Jones on Sierra Vista classes, with teacher Dan Richter, who began practising as a cancer patient, and student Gayle Dragoo, who set aside her oxygen tank and wheelchair.

Cara Greene fell on slate steps and re-injured her knee a week before Bill Moore's intermediate class, and practicing the movements from a chair brought a humbling lesson and a deeper sense of grounded chi.