Teaching: Nothing More, Nothing Less

Daughter on the Mountaintop starts with bent knees; hands are below the waist and palms face each other. With the weight fully on the right foot, move the left heel forward straight out from the bent knee. Shift the weight gradually to the left/front foot while the arms move weightlessly upward from the elbows in opposite circles (right hand counter-clockwise, left hand clockwise) towards the centre of the body. The right hand is further away from the body than the left hand. [(Be careful not to stop the flow of energy at the elbow; allow yourself to feel it through the top of the arm and shoulder.)] As the hands reach the center of the body, the fingers are vertical and the right hand crosses on the outside of the left hand – to gently place the daughter on the mountaintop. The movement is always generated from the T’a T’ien, but particularly at this point, the T’an T’ien provides the last bit of forward weight shift to the left/front foot while the back heel releases slightly off the ground. Now the weight begins to move back to the back/right foot as the hands move down the centre (fingers vertical) and complete the circle. Repeat this nine times, move the left foot back, and end in a graceful conclusion with hands at your sides, both palms facing the earth. Breathe.

Repeat (with the reverse) on the left side.

A Daughter & the Mountaintop

Poem by Carrie Schapker; Introduction by Mary Schapker, Galloway, NJ

The younger of my two daughters (both grown and married, one in L.A. and one in the Catkills) has always been interested in pursuing a spiritual path and wanted to learn T’ai Chi Chih. She still practices with me when she comes home, which is too rarely. I often tell her that in my daily practice I include her and her intentions during “Daughter on the Mountaintop” and her sister’s intentions during “Daughter in the Valley.” She was recently moved to write a poem about that. – Mary

You Inspire Me, Mom – Carrie

You move in slow circles

slower now than before

no longer chasing small, wild feet.

You have two daughters

valley and mountain

and you hold us both.

Each morning in your living room

two coasts meet in silence

as channels connect

and currents find their ground

distance doesn’t matter.

East and west

red and rhythmic

we share the understory

the blood

the warm beating sigh

of life’s generosity

giving to itself.

We rely upon your wish

sent outward from soft hands

in the height of summer.