The Vital Force Archive

Rebecca Paulson turned a snow day into imagery of snowballs for every circular movement and ball of energy, then pretended Working the Pulley launched them at a seniors class; Linda Braga adds how ten Chinese-speaking beginners learned by watching alone.

Rebecca Paulson opened her fall and winter classes in Colorado by comparing TCC to the life of trees: rooted grounding, a heart center, dropping leaves before snow, and winter dormancy as self-care.

Lisa Stroyan draws on Justin's three confirming signs, the Nei Kung and an email exchange with Lynne Roberts to offer practical ways to develop TCC mentally, from breath counting to feeling weight shift through the soles.

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.

JJ Johnson quotes a line from a 2007 Carmen Brocklehurst article to a frustrated veteran student, then cannot find the sentence anywhere in the text; with Pyramid Poems by Johnnie Lee Marquez.

Lisa Stroyan admits she has never practised steadfastly alone, and describes how Zoom group practice and a Seijaku class question from Carmen gave her the phrase "supportive cohesiveness."

Eliza Fulton maps the body's subtle anatomy - the toric field, chakras, the shushumna and the koshas from physical to bliss body - and argues TCC's circular movements rebalance them; a short poem by Terry Gay Puckett closes the piece.

Lisa Stroyan gathers teachers' views from April Leffler's July Second Saturday practice on whether and how to teach the hip swivel, including Justin's one-finger ellipse and Carmen Brocklehurst's "tiny hula in the tan t'ien."

Lisa Stroyan recounts how tiny hand movements in a reclined gravity chair restored her Chi in 2015, then details practical seated adjustments: sit-bone weight shifts, arm extension, grounding and "squirm."

Lisa Stroyan, after auditing accreditation courses and a Zoom intensive, counsels a hesitant candidate and argues that accreditation is a class to be met with an empty cup, not a test to pass.

Lisa Stroyan's notes from Sandy McAlister's monthly Zoom teacher practice cover December's discussion of movement order and January's on drop-in classes, with Zoom tips and handout suggestions.

Rebecca Paulson's pyramid poem "One" grew out of re-reading Chapter 42 of the Tao Te Ching in Stephen Mitchell's translation, and her note on yin, yang, grounding and the dynamic Chi.

JJ Johnson describes the room where he and his wife trained with Marie Dotts, including a jolt of polarity felt during seated Working the Pulley and a thick, slow-moving practice with nurse Holly Trenary.

Lisa Stroyan gathers highlights from the 2021 conference 20/20 activity, where 20 teachers led small groups discussing the tan t'ien, including Sandy McAlister's use of seated TCC and Carmen Brocklehurst's account of her ten-year discovery.

Rebecca Paulson gathers Justin Stone's own wording on how to close each movement, from his Blue Photo Text, showing the step back, the hands lowered gently to the sides, and the four to five second rest pose.

Bryan Fain traces his first months as a beginner, from imitating his teacher and memorizing sequence to Marie Dotts' weekly group practice and a workshop with Bill Moore.

JJ Johnson describes cutting to three repetitions per movement, drawing on Daniel Pienciak, Jim Hecker and Bill Moore's pine needle exercise, and finds the hands gathering and releasing chi.

Marie Dotts lists the polarities of the COVID-19 year, from lockdown and freedom to fear and courage, and describes the t'an t'ien as the reconciling still point that can hold them, closing at the Winter Solstice.

Rebecca Paulson recounts being asked for a Diversity Statement when applying to teach T'ai Chi Chih in a community college Continuing Education program, and the answer she wrote about centering, self-acceptance and receptivity.

JJ Johnson names four stages of playing with chi, from barreling through the movements at 78 RPM to collecting chi as carefully as smoke and finally communicating with the t'an t'ien.

Rebecca Paulson recounts the four-day teacher retreat hosted by Pam Towne and led by Sandy McAlister, reworked from in person to Zoom, where teachers brainstormed how future trainings might continue.

Amy Moody rafted 200 miles through the Grand Canyon over 11 days and found the chi so strong that simply standing and centering set her fingers fluttering, teaching movements to fellow passengers along the way.

Connie Shaw describes hearing the Chi Sound and feeling two warm torsion-rings encircle her t'an t'ien and heart during Pulling Taffy in Marie Dotts' Johnstown class, plus TheLea Brooks' vision of the sharing circle as a many-colored bonfire.

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.

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.

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.

Lisa Stroyan writes from the early weeks of the pandemic, disoriented by fear and media, deaths at her father's former nursing home, and finds grounding in Zoom practices, Justin's books and the Nei Kung.

Connie Krumrai describes the COVID-19 shutdown reaching Fort Collins as a contraction, an exhale she rests in while letting go of commitments, control and habit energies, and finally breaking her resistance to daily practice.

Eliza Fulton describes her twice-monthly seated classes, called "Move Free," with Alzheimer's residents at a Colorado veterans nursing home, using paper towel rolls and nerf footballs as props.

Rebecca Paulson describes the third annual T'ai Chi Chih weekend at her family's cabin above the Continental Divide, where teachers and students share meals, stargaze, and practice silently in a pine grove.