The Vital Force Archive

Marcella Levie recounts first seeing T'ai Chi Chih at sunset on Siesta Key Beach in 1991, then training over Zoom with Lesley Nell and being accredited in the UK in 2022 with Orly Mani, and the three Dutch groups they now teach.

Sharon Sirkis collects four TCC laughs, from a plumber who found waterfall music anything but soothing to a teacher candidate joking about the KGB over an autographed brochure.

Rod Nakayama recounts becoming accredited in November 2024 after seven years as a student, and teaching a class of thirty-plus at his Senior Center, including a seated session.

Judy Hubbell describes teaching T'ai Chi Chih outdoors and at senior centers in the Castro, South Sunset and Ocean Beach, with City College classes for older adults and YouTube sessions for isolated students.

Susan Corey describes the seniors she teaches, whose stories of sorrow and hilarity are woven into their unhurried practice, and likens them to the light-filled mystics of The Dark Crystal.

Sharon Sirkis and Kathy Grassel collect classroom mix-ups and comebacks, from a college student renaming Rocking Motion "Rocking Horse" to a retirement center resident asking permission to complain about the cold.

Jim Shorr collects comments from four practitioners at Creekside Village in Beaverton, finishing their sixth year of Saturday morning sessions, on balance, joint tension, new friendships and Qigong warm-ups.

Benjamin Brisjar recounts how T'ai Chi Chih reversed a volunteer shortage at the all-volunteer Pittsburg Fifty Plus Club, sustained members through COVID Zoom classes, and led the Board to fund reprinting the Photo Text.

Sharon Sirkis Columbia collects three teaching mishaps, including a retirement community student whose hearing aid batteries died mid-class and a college student who decided Pulling in the Energy causes heart attacks.

Christina Tillotson traces her first TCC practice in a grassy circle at Asilomar in 1983, her 1993 accreditation, and a newer Encinitas Senior Center student who said this omnipresent energy would have replaced her hippie-days substances.

June Calende describes a weekly hour at the senior center: shoes off, chairs against the wall, Debby counting reps barely audibly, nineteen movements done beside an east window of trembling leaves and a kettle pond.

An invitation to the 50th anniversary TCC Teacher Conference in Albuquerque, July 25-28, 2024, with registration at $495, followed by Sharon Sirkis's five class anecdotes from senior centers and a college group.

June Calende describes a weekly 3:00 practice at a senior center, shoes off, windows facing a kettle pond, Debby naming the nineteen movements in a barely audible voice.

Julie Schuster's class at Friendship Village of Bloomington spent weeks practicing a single chosen movement, and students recorded what came of it: Push Pull turning into a mantra, Six Healing Sounds cleansing breath, and Daughter on the Mountain Top easing anxiety at bedtime.

Jim Shorr collects statements from four Oregon senior students naming the movements that matter most to them, from Ellen H.'s swimmer's affinity for Working the Pulley to Linda L. feeling God's presence in Passing Clouds.

Dina Ajlenberg, accredited in 2005 and the only T'ai Chi Chih teacher in Israel since moving from Toronto in 2009, describes three years teaching about ten movements at a dementia day center.

Jim Shorr gathers statements from five practitioners in the five-year-old Saturday standing and seated class at Creekside Village for Seniors, who name Passing Clouds, Rocking Motion and Light at the Top of the Head as the movements that release old habits, steady balance and raise consciousness.

Terry Gay Puckett recounts how student Denise Richter contacted a San Antonio Express News columnist without telling her, and the resulting article filled her senior center class and a waiting list.

Judy Hubbell, three years into teaching Mind Body Health classes including ones for Chinese seniors, responds to the JustinStoneTCC.com newsletter and asks about Justin's link to Wen-Shan Huang.

Johnnie Marquez came to T'ai Chi Chih for balance after stumbling off a stationary bike, resisted his teacher's repeated suggestion to seek accreditation, and describes how Zoom practice, an Intensive and pyramid poetry changed his mind.

Sue Bitney describes the beginning class she started at a senior co-operative housing building during COVID, where a core of eight practise twice weekly and one man moving only one hand practises with them.

Jim Shorr describes how Creekside Village senior housing uses Margie, a longtime student, as a seated demonstrator whom wheelchair and walker participants follow, with Wayne and Bob explaining what it gives them.

Monica Motyka credits her teacher Donna McElhose, who led mixed standing and seated group practices, with the confidence to now teach seated T'ai Chi Chih in every location she teaches.

Sharon Sirkus collects three classroom moments: a Senior Center group breaking into "Down in the Valley," an Aspenwood resident asking to be poked more, and a student who skipped practice and put her shirt on backwards.

Sharon Sirkis collects five teaching mishaps from her early years, including a senior center student who wanted to push away his wife and a chat attempted with a man on silent retreat.

Lisa recounts how she and Sandy Roerig found students not among neighbors on their block but in a 55+ community meditation group, forming an outdoor practice group they named the Woo Woo Warriors.

Jim Shorr collects November and December 2020 testimonials from Creekside Village residents who kept practicing through the COVID-19 shutdown, with balance the benefit nearly everyone named.

Benjamin Brisjar describes how Zoom transformed his class of isolated senior citizens in Pittsburg, California, into a community practicing six times a week with Carmen Brocklehurst, Lisa Stroyan and Lorraine Lepine.

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.