The Vital Force Archive

Passages from Justin Stone on intuitive living, sentience in plants and rocks and the drone beneath Indian music, followed by memorial tributes from Alice Holden, Terry Slaney, Rose Alvarez-Diosdado and May Swanson.

Teachers and students from Alberta to Hawaii send memorial tributes to Justin Stone, including Julie Heryet's account of bringing news of his death to her T'ai Chi Chih class inside Folsom Prison.

Justin Stone's advice to move as if slowly swimming through heavy air opens a page of memorial notes from Margot Fish, James Hecker, Patricia Strand, Christeen McLain, Linda Watson and Judith Schwartz.

Justin Stone, drawing on Professor Wen-Shan Huang, distinguishes the chi you are born with from the chi accumulated in this life and stored below the navel or in the bones, followed by tributes from teachers in North Carolina, Houston, New York and Ontario.

Short tributes gathered after Justin Stone's death, with Mary J Case quoting Guru Nanak on death as a gateway, Amy Hackenberg recalling his advice that she would teach well once she settled down, and Sr Francis Kay tracing TCC groups from Minnesota to Harare.

Justin Stone's words on renunciation and the joy of the Now are joined by memorial notes from Pete Gregory, Jerry Granok's Pyramid Poem, Jerry Bumbalough's call to teach Alzheimer's and homebound students, Neal Roy and David White.

KG remembers Justin Stone as the love of her life, whose unconditional encouragement always pushed her toward practice, meditation and Awareness, and pledges that Good Karma Publishing and The Vital Force will keep his words alive.

Passages from the Lotus Sutra, a Nasrudin joke, the story of the old woman breaking her broom over Hakuin's head, and Hakuin's Song of Enlightenment, followed by memorial notes to Justin Stone from teachers across the country.

Beverly Weil's poem "A Luminescence" honors a bare winter tree rooted against a luminous sky and dances with it in flowing Chi, followed by Elena Terenzoni's thanks from Italy.

Short tributes from teachers and students worldwide, including Pete Gregory's elevator encounter with Justin at the 2005 Albuquerque conference and Sharon Sirkis turning conference "umm's" into "OM's".

On Justin Stone's 95th birthday, the writer and a friend improvised a ceremony at the Bosque by the Rio Grande, launching a bark boat that snagged on a tree until stone and petal fell away.

April Leffler recounts a dream in which a frail, legless Justin Stone stood in a rehab room, clasped her hands, spoke in a foreign language with glowing eyes, and said he could not find his way home.

Marcy Burns describes the second annual candlelight practice at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Ventura, where 40 practitioners lit each other's candles and honored Justin Stone and Phyllis Luyken on her 90th birthday.

An editor's note recounting how much of the issue was laid out beside Justin Stone's bed over two weekends, where he dozed, examined a new T'ai Chi Chih photo text app on an iPad, and asked that readers be thanked.

Carmen Brocklehurst carries Justin Stone's greeting to the 2011 conference, noting that at 93 he no longer travels or answers mail, and invites everyone into a silent group practice.

Carmen Brocklehurst describes Justin Stone's 94th birthday gathering in New Mexico, with a noon practice at the country's first TCC center, jazz musicians, visiting teenagers, and three-year-old Leila Berg.

Judy Chancey's birthday greeting for Justin Stone's 93rd, praising his humility and crediting T'ai Chi Chih with leading her back to a genuine connection with the God-energy.

Virginia Lee Cepeda names the people her gratitude is owed to: Justin Stone for teaching her to let go, Carmen and Brock, her mentor Pat Huseby, and her own students.

Margaret A. Baker likens sharing T'ai Chi Chih to a neighbor's advice about dividing flowers, crediting Ron Richardson, who taught her in 2003 during benzodiazepine withdrawal, and naming her 2009 goal of reaching African American communities.

Carmen L. Brocklehurst names teachers who rarely write in, among them Lyn Welch teaching through weekly chemotherapy, Pat Huesby's class of students over 90, and Margo Carpenter's unpaid weekend travel in Canada.

Linda Braga honors Bay Area teacher Lois Mahaney, who kept the TCC database for 15 years, mailed the Vital Force, designed the Ou Mie Shu bird shirts, and retired in her mid-80s.

Debbie Cole's pyramid poem praises a teacher whose soft hands and fluid, joint-deep movement inspire lasting integrity, concluding that whatever label he holds is beside the point.

Debbie Cole's verse of thanks, written at the close of the last Seijaku teacher training weekend Ed Altman would lead, credits Justin Stone's original inspiration and Altman's years as conduit.

Carla Langdon credits her teacher Roger Hotalen with the calm that carried her through a job interview under trees, a cross-country move, and T'ai Chi Chih practiced in an airport restroom stall.

Barbara Riley organized a November 20th birthday celebration for Justin with her Walnut Creek class, where visiting teachers took turns leading movements, Linda Braga spoke, and refreshments followed.

Debbie Cole's pyramid poem thanks a teacher who stretched their comfort zone, made them laugh and think, and spoke from the stillness that is the source of the Vital Force.

Lynn L. Gerdes remembers Sister Merrie Frances Seidl, SSND, who taught T'ai Chi Chih at Mount Mary College in Milwaukee through six years of cancer and chemotherapy until this spring.

Ruthmarie Arguello-Sheehan writes of the deaths of her husband and fellow teacher Brendan Curtin, her son and grandson, and her own fall, with no acknowledgment from the TCC community; Ray Watson and Diana Daffner praise the journal.

Justin Stone warns that gossip and petty squabbles have crept into a practice meant for Love and Joy, and praises Ed Altman's leadership at teacher training courses and workshops.

Carmen Brocklehurst gathers stories of spontaneous obedience to inner guidance, from Paul Reps sailing for India to Justin Stone's unexplained drive to Albuquerque, where a bookstore meeting led to the classes that produced T'ai Chi Chih.