Stay Awake on the Journey

I remember a story which the originator of T’ai Chi Chih (TCC), Justin Stone, used to tell from time to time. In it, a student inquired as to the nature of the Master’s or Teacher’s being or spiritual identity. After several questions to which the latter denied being a Guru or Superhero or Buddha, the students finally asked, if not any of those, then what (or who) are you? To which the Master replied, “I am awake.”

And another story, in which three students are asked to gaze upward and tell the Master what they see. One observes, “Clouds moving”. A second, “Air moving”. After some time, the third reflected, “Master, mind moving,” to which the Master responded, “From now on, you will be my teacher!”

As I reflect on my experiences with the TCC practice over almost 30 years, I see it as a journey without a destination. I recall several long driving trips around the country and the joy of taking in all the sights, of not having a daily destination, nor a time constraint. I treasure the memory of those journeys.

And now I have come to treasure the journey of each TCC practice, noticing the road signs and sights and inner feelings along the way. Sometimes I catch my mind being someplace else, and I simply take notice, and gently bring it back — feeling the flow from the center and the soles of the feet. TCC has taught me this, to notice where the mind is dwelling at any given moment and invite my awareness back into the now. (Thinking back to those long trips, I wonder what sights I missed because my mind was elsewhere.)

Instances also come to mind when I had arrived home, and turning off the car engine suddenly think, “How did I get here?” (I suddenly realized that my mind was not focused on driving home but was otherwise occupied. Scary. Thankfully, my mind’s rote ingrained habit of driving helped me observe stop signs and red lights to get me home safely.  But I missed the journey, because I was not aware or “awake.”

I am grateful to my TCC practice for teaching me to be aware and to observe my mind. A careless practice, done while “asleep,” can easily miss (or fail to be aware of) the misplaced foot, the incomplete weight shift, the stiff wrist or strained-feeling shoulder, or the unrelaxed ankle. More importantly, I might miss the true joy of the journey.