A Journey of Many Dimensions

Reading the February 2023 article about T’ai Chi Chih (TCC) at Folsom Prison brought back memories. I’ll start at the beginning. It was August 2001. I was spending a few days at Blue Mountain Lake, located in the Adirondack Park, not too far from Albany where I was living. I had completed a six-week course in TCC taught at a community college and was now taking a local class. I was receiving The Vital Force and had been in touch with Tara Stiles and Judy Trethewey.

I was anticipating a return to the Sacramento area and knew that I wanted to continue the practice. While at the lake, I was captivated by an article in The Vital Force and knew right away that I wanted to teach TCC at Folsom. When I got settled in Sacramento, I began taking classes from Tara and working with Judy to prepare for accreditation. Judy invited me to accompany her to the prison, probably to see how I would do in that environment.

So began the journey of many dimensions. First, the pass-through metal detectors. Then two check points where I picked up gold coins. These coins would be returned on my way out. Evidence, I suppose, that I had navigated the journey safely. Then the cell blocks. Five floors of cells, each with two occupants. Many pairs of eyes focused on me as I walked along. “Look straight ahead,” I was advised.

Then the huge dining room, filled with a strange variety of aromas. The room was usually empty; however occasionally there would new arrivals (“fish”) being schooled in the ways of their new “home.” And the shower room with men barely covered holding their shower bags. “Avert your gaze,” I was told.

Finally, the yard. Men playing baseball, basketball. Men using trash cans for weightlifting. Navigating the moving bodies, I arrived at a little office where I was issued a “panic button” to wear around my waist. Then up the steps and into the chapel. It was a simple building with wood floors.

Each student had been cleared to participate. Usually about thirty. Before class began, there was some small talk. No one spoke about their reason for being there. This was an opportunity for sacred conversation, and they cherished it.

When I came with Judy, she asked me to review movements with a small group before the group practice. When I was by myself, I stood on the stage so that I could be seen. I might review a movement or two. Then there would be a group practice. 19 movements and a pose. I was always struck by the men’s muscular upper bodies.

After class, the men would walk slowly back to their cells, cherishing brief moments of freedom. I would often walk with them — a companionable stroll. Every now and then I would remember the armed guards perched on the roof. If there was any trouble, I had been advised to lie flat on the ground. I feared the men on the roof more than the prisoners on the yard.

I returned the panic button and exited the way I had arrived, returning the two gold coins, and emerging into the sunlight. I often lingered at the picnic tables outside the walls, cherishing the experience. Much energy had been directed at me during my time there, and I took my time letting go of it. I stopped going to Folsom when my job responsibilities changed when leg surgeries compromised my mobility.

The journey had many dimensions. Check points, cell blocks, shower lines, yard, chapel. It had many interior dimensions as well. Questions I would ask myself about our criminal justice system, the damage done to these men, how our society stigmatized them, made us fear them, separated us from them. I thought about the healing power of TCC practice. How these men came to respect themselves, become acquainted with their own healing energy, gain the capacity to survive the prison system without losing their humanity.

The journey taught me much about energy, about men whose lives had been so different from my own, about how a shared movement practice can create a bond that heals all —participants, teachers, and students.

It is good to know that TCC has returned to Folsom after its absence due to COVID-19. It was not surprising that everyone picked up where they had left off. The practice has its origins in ancient movement practices created by sages. And Justin Stone, its originator, placed his trust in the teh — sincerity — of the teachers. Dedicated people sharing ancient healing practices is a sure recipe for success.