The Vital Force Archive

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.

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.

Bianca Lee's poem traces the move from hiding fear and imperfection to trusting the group that caught her, closing with accreditation week as a beginning rather than an ending.

Patty Stupca's short poem urges practitioners to stop standing and fighting to make things right, and instead relinquish control so the T'ai Chi Chih energy can flow up, down and all around.

Judy Kistler-Robinson recounts Sandy McAlister's October 9 Zoom teacher practice, where Huang Wen-Shan's 1974 foreword led into the Great Circle Meditation, its variations across Justin's books, and tongue placement.

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.

B. Ryan offers six pyramid poems written in chronological order instead of a journal, moving from a wish to transcend empirical reality to a prayer and a dream of swimming in the sea.

Gregg Bradley offers four pyramid poems titled Outlook, Sensations, Thoughts and Aftermath, tracing life before T'ai Chi Chih, vibrating hands, a calm clear mind, and solid steps afterward.

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.

Larry Tolbert moves through a Monday morning practice in a public grove, crows and playing children all around, and takes Justin Stone's line about the form coming not from but through him into his own poetry writing.

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.

Diana Hudson's Christmas parody recasts "The Night Before Christmas" with the WooWoos, her outdoor practice group at Veteran's Park, and a Santa pulled by honking wild geese who passes his COVID test before joining them.

Sheryl Adair notices a student's fingers moving during a post-COVID practice together, the confirmatory sign Justin described, and receives pyramid poems from the lawyer who finally let go of the mental.

Christa Keller's prose poem, written out of her Seijaku practice, holds to the single moment, the breath of life, and moving through the perceived hardness of life with softness.

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.

Rachel Rilinger disliked the air element until a Gatha course with Melina Bondy taught her to move slowly and feel color in the air, deepening her Seijaku practice.

Terry Jennings guides readers through a short experiential exercise: sensing the space outside and inside the body, around thoughts and sounds, then moving free form for five minutes, closing with a poem about air.

Mary Ann Johnson of Ponte Vedra Beach offers a New Year blessing in verse, wishing 365 days of deep joy and 525,600 minutes of peace to the TCC circle, sometimes gathered virtually.

Rosalind Braga's haiku on passing clouds, rooted legs and the grand circle of chi, followed by Sheryl Adair on Carmen Brocklehurst's correction to her pause in Daughter on the Mountaintop: "Let Go! And take it with you," plus power-outage haiku from Hurricane Zeta.

Jungmin Lee offers a few spare lines on Bird Flaps Its Wings, asking practitioners to soak into the soles of the feet and be ready to rise in the mind.

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.

Barbara Kristoff walks California's Old Tiburon Trail using Justin Stone's Satipathana mindful meditation, then describes the Zoom class she co-teaches with Linda Prosche and Tom Rothenberger, closing with pyramid poems from their park practice.

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.

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.

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.

Julie Buffalo's unpunctuated poem invites practitioners to rest on their feet, let the ground flow up to hold them, and feel the head suspended while the spine lengthens.

Carmen L. Brocklehurst noticed she had cut short the arm curve in Around the Platter during Seijaku practice, repeated it fully, and drew from that completeness a lesson about awareness in daily life.