The Vital Force Archive

Judy Smith walks past saguaros and the Garden Bistro to Laura Star's class under an adobe ramada at Tohono Chul in Tucson, correcting a movement and remembering family members Justin taught.

Glenn and Mary Laudenslager began TCC in spring 2000 after Mary saw it on PBS, taking an eight-week class with Lou and Joyce DeGidio that led to twenty-one years of daily practice.

Linda Worlton recounts the November accreditation course in Albuquerque, where an auditor's question about where she disappeared to during the movements exposed the self-criticism and 'survivor armor' behind her tension.

Deb Bertelsen answers April Leffler's question about flowing from emptiness, drawing on Thich Nhat Hanh, then describes feeling disconnected after moving to the Southwest and turning to goldstone.

Donna Deffenbaugh recounts buying olive green drawstring pants and velveteen shoes for her first T'ai Chi Chih class, the too-big black replacements her teacher teased her about, and what practice is really about.

Donna Deffenbaugh's word poem takes the stubborn root of a pulled weed as a figure for grounding, holding fast through waves of worry, gusts of grief and tides of temper.

Donna Deffenbaugh recounts the olive green drawstring pants and velveteen shoes that once got her into the zone, and her teacher's blunt verdict on their too-big black replacements.

First-year teacher Nikol Price describes using essential oil sprays and albums like Misty Forest Morning to mask Student Union noise and make her class an experience rather than exercise.

Donna Deffenbaugh offers a raven soaring on canyon thermals as a visualization for days when fatigue tempts us to push through the movements, quoting Justin Stone's "effort of no effort."

Victoria Mogilner recounts eight years of teaching at Gilbert Senior, where a small class grew to 49 people a week, bringing better balance and a group that moves together.

Donna Deffenbaugh compares the 365 blank squares of a new calendar year to a brown pelican in the Caribbean Sea, which keeps no schedule and simply plunges headlong into the water.

Donna Deffenbaugh's poem moves through cold water, mossy spruce, ancient hemlock, granite peaks and frozen lava floes, arriving at no destination but the arrival of being here.

Donna Deffenbaugh strings together lines from Paul Simon, Nancy Sinatra and the Roman poet Ennius to call attention to the soles of the feet, the overlooked connection between earth and everything we do.

Nikol Price traces her path from a teenage T'ai Chi Chih class with Della Alberson in Bullhead City, through years of solo practice, to Saturday mentoring in Prescott and accreditation.

Holly Ueda recounts her November accreditation in Albuquerque as a series of mountains, from applying at the last minute through the worry of whether she was ready to the next climb of forming classes.

Barb Shambach audited the November 2015 Albuquerque accreditation with trainer Dan Pienciak, Carmen Brocklehurst and Dora Wiemann, recounting a candidate steadying himself with Bass Drum, the "random sacks" mix-up, and a reading of "Shadows."

Donna Deffenbaugh draws a parallel between Bonaire's ban on boat anchors over its coral reef and the way the soles of the feet moor a practitioner, closing with Justin Stone on the Bubbling Spring.

Donna Deffenbaugh's poem traces one pair of hands from infancy through muddy play, motherhood, keyboards and stiff buttons to timid hands rising at heart-height in practice, reaching for the universe.

Donna Deffenbaugh invites the reader back to age seven or nine, lying in dewy grass or warm sand watching clouds, sinking into earth energy and carrying it to the supper table.

Donna Deffenbaugh describes trading her lifelong rigidity for the image of a marionette, following her teacher's hands and feet on imagined strings until T'ai Chi Chih itself took the strings; appended are attendee reflections from an Intensive.

Carolyn Shelley watched a flock of ravens circling overhead during an autumn outdoor practice and drew a metaphor from the collective nouns constable, unkindness and conspiracy for what TCC offers.

Hope Spangler's 15-week for-credit college course moves outdoors to a campus sculpture garden waterfall, where honeybees and a metallic green hummingbird come to drink as the class practices.

Dana Diller calls accreditation week both the greatest and most trying experience of her life, and credits the intensive she attended beforehand, plus the teachers' insights, for preparing her to teach.

Dana Diller, a skeptic with a science background, took a community college T'ai Chi Chih class on her doctor's advice and watched her systolic blood pressure drop 15 to 18 points after practice.

Nancy Goff-Laipple credits regular practice with teacher Hope Spangler for steadier balance after breaking her right ankle twice, two avoided falls, energy in her palms, and a quieter mind.

Carol Chamberlain began T'ai Chi Chih a year after her Parkinson's diagnosis, when she often needed a cane, and credits it with the stress management that keeps her tremors from worsening.

Karen Carlisle, 67, joined Hope Spangler's class at Yavapai College after two foot surgeries and severe arthritis, and six months later walks miles barefoot with minimal pain.

Ruth Lillie, new to slow and purposeful movement, matches T'ai Chi Chih movements to her household pets: Stu the perpetually moving dachshund, Lewie the hunter cat, and Jujube the calm Sulcata tortoise.

Dana Diller compares T'ai Chi Chih to the dormant oil applied to pinyon pines in early spring to control the needle scale insect, controlling stresses that rob vigor.

Angela Dilegame took a beginner's class to slow down and stay active, and found that slow-moving animals now look like dancers, with concentration in the soles of her feet making every movement significant.