After mountain rain
a crystal drop is captured,
stilled, in cup of green.
CJM, Gave de Lutour, April 2011
Saturday 30 April 2011
Monday 25 April 2011
Wednesday 13 April 2011
As the season changes
Lace dresses the sand,
worked by the wind's fingers, flung
by a far-off storm.
worked by the wind's fingers, flung
by a far-off storm.
CJM
Larrabasterra beach, Spain, April
Saturday 9 April 2011
The antidote to turbulence: standing still
As World Tai Chi/Chi Kung Day approaches again (April 30), a moment to reflect on standing still.
One might find the above title a statement of the obvious. But it's the kind of 'obvious' that you come to only after a long period of searching, and then, as in the famous T.S. Eliot quote, you see where you started from 'for the first time.'
In practice -- and here I really am talking about practice, daily practice -- there are many different ways of making standing still a regular part of your life. For instance, a friend of this blog speaks eloquently of 'quiet sitting'. The habit of pausing in the rush of life to stop and actually 'look' at something is a kind of standing still in miniature. I tried to express this a while back in an article for the International Herald Tribune (2005/8/12), as a reflection on the 'potatiness of potatoes' and, in its essence, the very heart of poetry.
The particular standing still I'm concerned with here is a chi kung practice known informally as 'hugging a tree', more formally as zhan zhuang, and associated with the teaching of Master Lam Kam-Chuen. Master Lam insists that it is not a meditation, and indeed one shouldn't try to 'meditate' while doing it. If done correctly, your body will find the right posture for itself and the benefits will flow, literally, for the whole exercise is about promoting the flow of chi -- essential energy -- in and around the body.
For those sceptics who find it hard to recognise the presence of a force which modern science cannot capture and measure, I can assure them I don't need science to prove the sensations of energy experienced in doing this practice. Any practitioner of chi kung or tai chi can vouch for its awakening of a force field in your hands and limbs, with a feeling of electrical flow and a tangible sense of compression between the hands especially. Followers of the Stévanovitch method, La Voie Intérieure, begin by sensitising themselves to the movement of chi from the central energy point of the body, the dan tien.
My own practice of tai chi is now Chen style, where I have had the good fortune to follow seminars given by the grand master Chen Xiaowang during his visits to Europe. Chen Xiaowang starts each session with fifteen or twenty minutes of standing still, after which comes the practice of the form. There is no doubt that from this short period of 'grounding' arises a more conscious and deliberate activity in the movements of the form itself.
There are various obstacles to the successful practice of zhan zhuang. The first is its utter simplicity, and therefore the modern mind with its thirty-second attention span finds it hard to embrace extended inactivity in a disciplined way, and least of all as a regular practice. Another is that you have to be very centred on your own body and work through the various tensions that emerge as you extend the period of practice.
As an antidote to turbulence, nothing better than standing still could be recommended, surely? And if this quiet and undramatic practice is a personal path to good health and a strong and balanced body, as Master Lam says in his smiling and relaxed way, "What could be more important?"
CJM
PS. For more on tai chi and its history, see my IHT article.(2006/06/05)
One might find the above title a statement of the obvious. But it's the kind of 'obvious' that you come to only after a long period of searching, and then, as in the famous T.S. Eliot quote, you see where you started from 'for the first time.'
In practice -- and here I really am talking about practice, daily practice -- there are many different ways of making standing still a regular part of your life. For instance, a friend of this blog speaks eloquently of 'quiet sitting'. The habit of pausing in the rush of life to stop and actually 'look' at something is a kind of standing still in miniature. I tried to express this a while back in an article for the International Herald Tribune (2005/8/12), as a reflection on the 'potatiness of potatoes' and, in its essence, the very heart of poetry.
The particular standing still I'm concerned with here is a chi kung practice known informally as 'hugging a tree', more formally as zhan zhuang, and associated with the teaching of Master Lam Kam-Chuen. Master Lam insists that it is not a meditation, and indeed one shouldn't try to 'meditate' while doing it. If done correctly, your body will find the right posture for itself and the benefits will flow, literally, for the whole exercise is about promoting the flow of chi -- essential energy -- in and around the body.
For those sceptics who find it hard to recognise the presence of a force which modern science cannot capture and measure, I can assure them I don't need science to prove the sensations of energy experienced in doing this practice. Any practitioner of chi kung or tai chi can vouch for its awakening of a force field in your hands and limbs, with a feeling of electrical flow and a tangible sense of compression between the hands especially. Followers of the Stévanovitch method, La Voie Intérieure, begin by sensitising themselves to the movement of chi from the central energy point of the body, the dan tien.
My own practice of tai chi is now Chen style, where I have had the good fortune to follow seminars given by the grand master Chen Xiaowang during his visits to Europe. Chen Xiaowang starts each session with fifteen or twenty minutes of standing still, after which comes the practice of the form. There is no doubt that from this short period of 'grounding' arises a more conscious and deliberate activity in the movements of the form itself.
There are various obstacles to the successful practice of zhan zhuang. The first is its utter simplicity, and therefore the modern mind with its thirty-second attention span finds it hard to embrace extended inactivity in a disciplined way, and least of all as a regular practice. Another is that you have to be very centred on your own body and work through the various tensions that emerge as you extend the period of practice.
As an antidote to turbulence, nothing better than standing still could be recommended, surely? And if this quiet and undramatic practice is a personal path to good health and a strong and balanced body, as Master Lam says in his smiling and relaxed way, "What could be more important?"
CJM
PS. For more on tai chi and its history, see my IHT article.(2006/06/05)
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