When The Teacher Is Ready, The Student Will Appear

Most of us have come across the saying, “When the student is ready the teacher will appear.” How delightful that this saying can be turned on its head.

When I moved from California to Oregon in June 2019, I decided to take a full year break from teaching. I needed time to refresh and rededicate to my practice. In September I attended Carmen Brocklehurst’s annual T’ai Chi Chih Retreat in Albuquerque. It had been three years since my last attendance. Upon returning home, the student appeared, suddenly and unexpectedly.

At my condo, I had chatted several times in the elevator with another resident en route to our respective 16th and 17th floor condos. One day an invitation appeared to join her, her husband and another couple for dinner. Over berry cobbler for dessert, I discovered she was a T’ai Chi Ch’uan practitioner who teaches a shortened version to seniors around town. Although her practice differs from mine, we share many sensibilities and enjoy each other’s company.

The other couple in attendance that night invited my husband and me over for a subsequent dinner. We found them to be intelligent, thoughtful, sensitive people and felt a friendly rapport immediately. She asked if I would teach her TCC privately. I inquired if she had asked our mutual friend to teach her T’ai Chi. She had, but our friend was only willing to teach her in public classes and she felt unable to do that. Once I became aware of her medical history and various physical challenges, I agreed that public classes might not be the optimal place for her to learn. So I said yes. I was not entirely happy about it, as I didn’t want to teach until the summer. But I felt I had “no choice.” I noticed with interest that I experienced “no choice.”

My new student was recovering from recent surgery, chemotherapy and radiation—and dealing with the after-effects of cancer treatment, e.g. fuzzy thinking, trouble sleeping, exhaustion. She suffers from balance problems due to a painful chronic foot condition for which she was prescribed special sturdy shoes. She has limitations in the movement of one of her shoulders which had been broken. Her right and left sides are not in sync and her coordination is off due to a stroke several years ago. The area of her tan t’ien is affected by recent surgery and a previous gastric bypass. She is heavier than she would like to be and can walk only short distances comfortably. Her husband was in rehab recovering from a difficult surgery, and upon his imminent return home, she would be taking over much of his care. They were also in the midst of selling their home in another state. Whew!

We began with a mostly seated practice, as she could stand for about seven minutes at a stretch. For the first couple of lessons Cosmic Consciousness Pose required her back to be against the wall for safety and balance. During lesson three she surprised me by suddenly standing in the middle of the room grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been practicing,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. During class four she was standing for the entire hour and no longer needed a chair, table or wall to check her balance. Light at the Top of Head/Light at the Temple was initially done with her hands at throat level. By lesson six they traveled up to her forehead as her shoulder began accommodating a broader range of motion. She now performs her practice in soft, flexible slippers. Her brain/body connection has been gradually improving and now during lesson ten she has graduated from Pulling Taffy to learning Pulling Taffy Variation 1 The Anchor and Passing Clouds. “I’ve been practicing!”

During lesson three I taught her the short version of the Nei Kung to help with her insomnia. It has helped quite a bit. At all times of the day and night she enjoys focusing on “from below the navel to the soles of the feet,” which surprised me a little because of the surgical trauma and discomfort she experiences in that region of her body. But I think she feels the affection of the practice and the healing forces at work. Her fingers tingle, and she sees an array of chakra colors in Pulling in the Energy. She loves to practice. She wrote her first pyramid poem last week, much to her (and my) delight:

I

I Love

I love me

I love today

I love you

Love you

Love

What a student she is! From the very first class she could feel the Chi. Her face lit up with a radiant smile, her eyes sparkled. “I love this and I love you!” she told me. She practices a little every day. She tells everyone she knows about it: her husband, children, friends, manicurist, aesthetician, housekeeper…. She has visions of summer coming and being ready to do the practice in public—in the park, along the river, everywhere. She sees the two of us, and then our friend who practices T’ai Chi Ch’uan learning this form and joining us to make it three, and then she sees five people, seven, ten, fifteen. You should see her face when she speaks of this. Joy surfaces and sends its ripples and waves on the wings of the Chi out into the world. The power of the Chi possesses her—and it embraces me as well.

My student arrived and I did too. Every time her husband sees me he thanks me for sharing the practice with her. He sees so many happy changes in her, and she says the same. It has been good for me not to hide the light and really good to be in service to the Chi. It’s synchronicity at its best.

Is it true that “when the teacher is ready the student will appear?” Maybe. But it might be more precise to say that in relationship to the Chi, we are all students of the Chi, that it is our teacher. When we step back from being in charge, when we acquiesce—when it works through us, for us, for all and everything—when teh (sincerity) emanates from our being—all is well, all is open, all is perfect. It breathes me. It teaches me.