The Moment Of Weightlessness

When I was a young child we lived near the ocean. On warm summer days we would go to the beach where the sky and sand would stretch out forever, and gulls would fly freely. There were swings there, huge gray metal structures with long heavy chains and black seats that would allow me to fly like gulls, to soar through the sky with a child’s giddiness.

In the beginning my father would stand behind me and push ever so gently, and the rocking motion would begin. I would fly first down, then out and up, until gravity took hold of my toes and after a timeless pause, would allow me to fall back and up to where my father’s ever protective hands would push me down and out again:

Push, Fly, Pause, Back, Push, Fly, Pause, Back.

And so it would go until my father stepped back and his strong hands would be replaced by that exquisite moment of weightlessness where once again gravity would hold me. It was an instant of knowledge that I had arrived at the top of my arc and would return down and up again. But there was that moment, the pause between up and down, between forward and backward, that held its own sense of being. Neither down, up, forward, back… simply weightlessness.

As I got older, and my legs grew longer I could run to the beach alone, find the swing, hop on and independently begin my rocking motion, always pumping to go higher and further, yet always with that pause of weightlessness on either side of the arc, until I would gently let my swing come to rest.

When practicing T’ai Chi Chih, muscle memory brings me back to those days with my father. Beginning with Rocking Motion, forward and back, with that same almost imperceptible pause of weightlessness that separates the two – ending one movement and beginning the next, back and forth, side to side.

I am older now and live by the sea once again. The gulls still soar and sand stretches to the sea. The giddiness of the swing has been replaced by the forward and back, side to side motion of life, reminders to slow down, stay alert, feel the motion accompany my practice. And I am grateful for all that is my life, my youth, my family, for the farthest star in the universe and for my TCC practice, teacher and community that holds the energy so gently.