A Lesson in Grounding

It was a beautiful morning in early October in Dennisport on Cape Cod. I had waited all year to return. There before me the horizon, the dunes and the water. The sea beckoned and the sun welcomed my presence – a perfect setting for my T’ai Chi Chih practice.

The wind was strong this day and I thought to myself: What are you doing? It is so windy. But I knew I needed to feel the warmth of the sun, to feel the wind surround me and move through me, to fill myself with nature’s raw energy. So I proceeded to ground myself in the soles of my feet. As a teacher, I have repeated those words thousands of times in a myriad of ways: focus on the soles of the feet, sink into the soles of the feet, bring your concentration into the soles of the feet, breathe into the soles of the feet. Here I was mentally repeating those words, anchoring myself against the wind. And so my practice began.

Rocking motion … steady now – stay grounded – anchor your feet to the earth. With a focus on the tan t’ien, my movements synchronized with the ebb and flow of the sea. Hands and arms seemed to float as if being carried by the rippling movement of the water, effortless, light, almost buoyant. The sea and the wind provided the rhythm of their music, and it became mine. I could feel the wind moving between the polarity of my palms, and I felt the resistance as it pushed into me, tousling my hair every which way. With each movement, I let go a little bit more. The dune grasses bowed down in the wind yet remained firmly rooted, as did I.

As my practice was coming to an end, I noticed a lone seagull in the vast blue sky gliding above the water with ease and grace, allowing the wind to steer his course. I envied his freedom of movement, wings outstretched, not flapping furiously to make headway – no resistance. With nature’s help I learned new lessons in grounding and softness. It was a practice like no other and one that I will long remember.