For a person who has lost hearing and balance, who suffers from a neurological disease (NF2), the movements of Taoist Tai Chi^® practice are a challenge and have to do with trusting the therapeutic properties of this discipline.

In these months of forced distancing because of the COVID, I have been able to experience a personal way of practicing, more suited to my limits, more aware and free.

I was able to choose the time of my practice, my rhythms, my timing, the right moment for a break, the safe, family-friendly place, the silence and the contact with nature (on my terrace at home).

I reached the essence of the discipline: with attention to the basic rules, lightening the movements and taking my time, slowing down, to favor balance. There is something sacred in every gesture of Taoist Tai Chi^® arts, from the initial bow to honor the earth that supports us, to the alternating steps: put down-take off your foot, advance-go back, open-close.

Offering yourself to the invisible!

The game of life.

To lighten the burden of life, let go of what is inessential.

After having been repeating the moves in this long period of self-practice, exploring and listening in freedom, with patience, attention and curiosity, now the feelings I feel show me and make me recognize with more and more clarity different deeper aspects of his teachings: for instance, wide open arms remind me of the centrality of the heart, wave hands connects me to the intention of lightness and of letting go of resistance to unforeseen events of life …

Perhaps it will be difficult for me to resume the practice in a group, but the purpose of his teachings is not to develop alone, I have learned this also thanks to this organization: it is a sharing path.

Thank you!

When we started personal practice I was focused on trying to do things the right way, to achieve progress that would show that I was a good student when I came to the next retreat. So I looked at my practice from how I expected other people would see me. I would not have described it that way at the time, but that is what I have learned now.

During the last 2 years the focus has changed. Now I practice with curiosity, joy, lightness, much less ambition and appreciation of the changes that happens. I do it because I enjoy the path of his teachings and not to get recognition of my progress.

What has made this changes? Perseverance and the continuous inspiration and support from the FLK leadership on the Saturdays and since May 2021 I also had the chance to join the Wednesday board meetings. Keywords: Don’t worry, letting go, listen to the feeling and learn to watch.

I feel a deep gratitude to be able to follow his teachings and continuously experience more joy, a lighter heart and that everything comes more natural, with less emotional pain. Improvement is incremental and there is so much more to learn and improve, but it is not a daunting task, but a walk of joy.

During one of my last in person sessions, a comment made by one of my leaders made me realize I needed to learn to let go.

When the pandemic shifted our focus to personal practice, my goal was to work on learning to let go. I’ve been somewhat successful realizing I still have a long way to go. Physically letting go has helped to give me more physical balance but more emotional balance as well. Chanting does the same.

But we had a short discussion after our recent Southwest Chanting Session and it was clear my view on how I have changed should be wider than that.

As the pandemic drags on longer and longer, and as the pandemic continues to shift, throwing a wrench into any plans I may have made, I have to continually change course. In the past, I would have pushed through my plans against all odds creating chaos and stress through the process. But now I’m finding it much easier to change course even without much of a pause. If all of a sudden I’m not allowed to travel out of province, I spend more time on Zoom connecting with my friends and family in Quebec and Ontario. In the past I would have planned vacations well in advance in order to avoid the stress of “what if.” Now I plan last minute depending on what’s available without worrying about it.

And it goes beyond that. I retired 2 years ago with the plan on changing my lifestyle. I wanted to rid myself of the desire to fulfill wants, but rather decide on what my needs are. I wanted to become somewhat more self sufficient. And to that end my partner and I planted a large vegetable and fruit garden that supplies us with food the whole year. It’s a lot of work and requires attention to the weather. So I may have made plans to do one thing, but as the weather dictates, I very frequently have to change those plans to match the weather. And, again, I’m finding it very easy to adapt. In the past, I would have worried about getting things done.

So, overall, I’m finding that being able to let go allows for more balance. Letting go of physical tension. Letting go of who I used to be. Letting go of plans. Not just letting go in Taoist Tai Chi® practice but letting go of everything in life. Taoist Tai Chi® arts has become my entire life.

_

En estos dos años de pandemia se han producido muchos cambios en mÍ en todos los aspectos, aunque no sean visibles quizá para los demás yo interiormente lo siento así. Todo este tiempo he tenido la sensación de estar bien, y a pesar de las circunstancias que estamos viviendo he mantenido un buen estado de ánimo.

En el aspecto físico, con la práctica diaria, aplicando todos los consejos y sugerencias que nos han compartido los directivos del FLK, como dejar ir, confiar, adaptarse y tantos otros, me siento mucho más fuerte, flexible y ágil.

He entendido con más profundidad el efecto que produce cada movimiento. He comprobado que es necesario prestar atención para conseguir un verdadero avance en el efecto del beneficio del movimiento. Estoy más saludable.

A nivel mental, mi paciencia ha aumentado y mi respuesta es más templada ante las adversidades que me han acompañado este tiempo (que no han sido pocas). Ante situaciones de conflicto he actuado con mayor claridad y eficacia. Con la práctica de los cantos he notado que ha aumentado mi concentración y siento mucha más quietud.

Con las charlas de los sábados tengo la sensación de haber conocido al Maestro Moy (entré en la Asociación el año que falleció).

La aplicación de sus enseñanzas me han hecho todo este tiempo que es “diferente” llevarlo con positividad y menor preocupación y me han permitido conocer mucho mejor la Organización y profundizar en sus enseñanzas.

Con las diversas conexiones (reuniones de líderes en formación tanto a nivel europeo, nacional o de la rama) he podido compartir mis experiencias, además de aprender de las experiencias de otros líderes que comparten con todos sus apreciaciones.

Adentrarme en sus enseñanzas, aplicarlas y ver como mi entorno ha ido cambiando y mejorando ha sido un gran regalo.

Me siento muy afortunada de haber tenido la oportunidad en estos dos años de experimentar todos los cambios que se han producido en mÍ y en mi vida tanto en el aspecto físico, mental y espiritual.

---

In these two years of pandemic there have been many changes in me in all aspects; although they are not visible perhaps to others I feel it inside. All this time I have had the sensation of being well, and in spite of the circumstances that we are living I have maintained a good state of mind.

In the physical aspect, with daily practice, applying all the advice and suggestions that the FLK directors have shared with us, such as letting go, trusting, adapting and so many others, I feel much stronger, more flexible and agile.

I have understood more deeply the effect of each movement. I have found that it is necessary to pay attention to achieve a real breakthrough in the effect of the movement’s benefit. I am healthier.

On a mental level, my patience has increased and my response is more temperate when facing the adversities that have accompanied me during this time (which have not been few). In conflict situations I have acted with greater clarity and efficiency. With the practice of the chanting I have noticed that my concentration has increased and I feel much calmer.

With the discussions on Saturdays I have the feeling of having known Master Moy (I joined the organization the year he passed away).

The application of his teachings during this “different time” have allowed me to carry on with positivity and less concern, to know the organization much better and to deepen my understanding of his teachings.

With the various connections (meetings of leaders in training at European, national or branch level), I have been able to share my experiences, as well as learn from the experiences of other leaders who share with everyone their insights.

To go into his teachings, apply them and see how my environment has been changing and improving has been a great gift.

I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity in these two years to experience all the changes that have occurred in me and in my life both physically, mentally and spiritually.

Le sujet de ma réflexion aujourd’hui m’est venu de deux façons différentes. Tout d’abord, quand on nous demande de préparer un témoignage, on nous le demande assez d’avance pour nous donner le temps de le réfléchir, de le mûrir. À chaque fois que je l’ai fait depuis le début de la pandémie, le processus a été le même : dès qu’on me le demande, je me mets à noter des idées, des observations, du ressenti au fil des jours. Ça peut être sur ma pratique physiologique, sur les changements que j’observe en moi, ou sur comment j’apprends à être dans cette organisation.

Chaque fois qu’on me le demande, je peux ainsi concrètement observer les enseignements de Maître Moy, à savoir que toutes les actions qu’on nous demande de poser, sont autant d’occasions d’apprentissage et que le processus est aussi important que le résultat.

C’est donc de trois petits événements, qui ont été pour moi porteurs de transformation, dont je vais vous parler.

Une première observation me vient de la pratique du chanting. Je me suis rendu compte que, depuis le début – et sûrement même avant qu’on en fasse sur Zoom, je cherchais à « performer » même si je n’étais vraiment pas un expert et qu’en fait, je n’y connaissais rien. Je me suis rendu compte que je voulais toujours avoir la bonne prononciation, avoir le ton juste, garder le rythme et projeter ma voix. Les « ratés » étaient continuels, et c’était une constante source de frustration pour moi.

Bien sûr, j’ai fait de petits progrès avec le temps, mais c’est comme si je finissais la plupart du temps un peu ou beaucoup déçu de moi. Un jour, j’ai pris conscience que, d’une certaine façon, je n’écoutais pas le chanting; j’ai tout à coup réalisé que je pouvais calmer mes attentes et, plutôt que de vouloir tout réussir, que je pouvais simplement écouter et suivre, comme on nous l’apprend dès notre première présence dans un groupe de débutants… Je me suis donc mis cette fois-là à simplement écouter et me laisser entraîner par les voix que j’entendais. C’est devenu tout à coup beaucoup plus facile, agréable et les frustrations ont disparu.

Cette simple observation me faisait réaliser à quel point il m’est difficile de m’abandonner, de faire confiance et de simplement suivre… L’aspect purement physique de la pratique du chanting s’est aussi un peu transformé suite à cela. Je le pratique à genoux depuis le début, mais je n’avais jamais vraiment observé quoi que ce soit en lien avec la position. Dernièrement, lorsque je me redresse, je sens que la poussée dans les genoux est identique à celle dans les pieds et qu’elle me fait redresser jusqu’en haut de la même façon.

Ma deuxième observation, c’est en lien avec ma plus grande capacité à m’abandonner et à faire confiance, c’est la transformation de mon attitude par rapport aux tâches ou actions qu’on me demande d’accomplir pour le FLK.

J’ai maintes fois entendu que le processus est aussi important que le résultat, qu’il faut voir plus large et plus loin que le strict mandat qu’on nous confie, mais mon premier réflexe est encore souvent de vouloir trouver des réponses et des solutions avant même d’avoir commencé à accomplir la tâche en question. C’est comme si, tout au long de ma vie, j’avais vécu avec cette idée, sans trop la remettre en question et sans vraiment voir les impacts qu’elle pouvait avoir sur mon anxiété, ma crainte de décevoir ou mon sentiment de « poids sur les épaules » que je peux avoir. C’est tout un apprentissage pour moi de me défaire, petit à petit, de cette vieille croyance et d’apprendre que ce n’est qu’ensemble dans cette organisation qu’on réalise les actions, bref qu’on n’est jamais seul.

Je sens que mon attitude change peu à peu… mais avec de fréquentes rechutes. Je viens tout juste d’en vivre une encore. On nous a confié, à une autre leader et moi, le rôle de coordonner une prise d’inventaire du matériel au Centre régional. On discute, on organise, les choses avancent, des LIT viennent contribuer, bref ça démarre bien. Après deux jours, je me mets cependant à m’inquiéter de comment on va colliger les données, organiser les photos, etc. Et le hamster est parti dans ma tête : ça m’obsède, je dois trouver des solutions, je fais des essais, je me réveille la nuit et j’y réfléchis… comme si je ne voyais plus le reste. Jusqu’à ce que je discute à nouveau avec ma collègue pour me rendre compte que les problèmes que je voyais sont bien réels, mais qu’on peut y trouver des solutions simples, que ces problèmes n’ont peut-être pas la place que je leur accorde et que, surtout, je perdais de vue l’essentiel de l’exercice qui n’est pas seulement d’avoir de jolis tableaux suite à un inventaire.

La troisième observation concerne ma pratique physiologique. Dans ma pratique quotidienne, j’essaie, j’expérimente différentes choses pour simplement observer ce qui se passe de différent. Depuis quelques mois, je me suis mis à pratiquer la poussée qui vient de la « source jaillissante » dans différents mouvements. J’ai assez vite constaté que, lorsque je mettais mon attention à pousser à partir de cet endroit précis, j’avais l’impression de me redresser davantage et que ce redressement allait jusqu’en haut de la tête. J’ai donc continué à pratiquer de cette façon jusqu’à ce que récemment je m’aperçoive que, dans les toryus entre autres, mes genoux émettaient de petits craquements suspects et pas toujours agréables. Je me demandais ce qui se passait. J’essayais de modifier et de me concentrer sur différentes choses : varier la longueur du pas, tenter d’être plus détendu… mais rien ne changeait, les craquements étaient toujours là. Je me suis tout à coup aperçu que je poussais bien de la « source jaillissante » mais que je ne poussais que de là. Dès les premières poussées que j’ai tenté de faire consciemment avec tout le pied, les craquements ont cessé. Ce petit évènement m’a révélé encore une fois un autre aspect de mon caractère : je peux parfois tellement m’entêter à faire quelque chose que la constance peut se transformer en entêtement ou en rigidité si je n’y porte pas attention.

Avec ces trois événements qui, en soi, sont des choses qui peuvent paraître mineures ou banales au premier abord, je voulais simplement illustrer que les arts qu’on pratique sont des révélateurs de ce que nous sommes, si on leur porte attention. Pour moi, ils sont les porteurs et les déclencheurs de la transformation.

J’ai aussi appris que la transformation n’est pas un aboutissement, un résultat final ou un acquis, ni que les leçons apprises le seront pour toujours. J’ai l’impression que je dois repasser souvent par le même chemin pour que la transformation prenne forme, un peu comme un sentier que l’on doit marcher fréquemment afin qu’il demeure un sentier.

---

The subject of my reflection today came to me in two different ways. First, when we are asked to prepare a testimony, we are asked far enough in advance to give us time to think about it, to mature it. Every time I’ve done this since the pandemic began, the process has been the same: as soon as I’m asked, I start writing down ideas, observations, feelings as the days go by. It can be about my physiological practice, about the changes I observe in myself, or about how I learn to be in this organization.

Each time I am asked, I can concretely observe the teachings of Master Moy, that all the actions we are asked to take are learning opportunities and that the process is as important as the result.

So I’m going to talk about three small events that have been transformative for me.

The first observation comes from the practice of chanting. I realized that, from the beginning – and probably even before it was done on Zoom – I was looking to “perform” even though I was not an expert and didn’t really know anything about it. I realized that I always wanted to get the pronunciation right, get the tone right, keep the rhythm right and project my voice. Of course, the “misses” were frequent and continuous, and this was a constant source of frustration for me.

I made small improvements in my practice over time, but it seemed like most of the time I ended up a little or a lot disappointed in myself. One day I realized that I was somehow not listening to the chanting; I suddenly realized that I could calm my expectations and, rather than trying to get it all right, that I could just listen and follow along, as we are taught from the first time we attend a beginners’ session… So that time I started to just listen and let the voices I heard carry me along. It suddenly became much easier, more enjoyable and the frustrations disappeared.

This simple observation made me realize how difficult it is for me to let go, to trust and just follow… The purely physical aspect of chanting has also changed a bit as a result. I’ve been doing it on my knees since the beginning, but I never really observed anything related to the position. Lately, when I stand up, I feel that the push in my knees is the same as the one in my feet and that it makes me stand up in the same way.

My second observation is related to my increased ability to surrender and trust, and to the transformation of my attitude towards the tasks or actions I am asked to perform for FLK.

I have heard many times that the process is as important as the outcome, that we need to think larger and further than the exact task we are given, but my first instinct is still often to want to find answers and solutions before I have even started to accomplish the task itself. It’s as if, throughout my life, I’ve lived with this idea, without questioning it too much and without really seeing the impact it could have on my anxiety, my fear of disappointing or my feeling of “weight on my shoulders”. It is quite a learning process for me to get rid, little by little, of this old belief and to learn that it is only together in this organization that we carry out our actions; in short that we are never alone.

I feel that my attitude is changing little by little… but with frequent relapses. I have just experienced another one. Another leader in training and I were given the role of coordinating an inventory of materials at the regional center. We talked, we organized; things moved forward, LITs came in to help, and things got off to a good start. After two days, however, I started to worry about how we were going to collect the data, organize the photos, etc. And the hamster is going in my head: I obsess about it, I have to find solutions, I try things out, I wake up at night and think about it… as if I don’t see the rest anymore. Until I talked to my colleague again and realized that the problems I was seeing are real, but that there are simple solutions, that these problems may not be as important as I thought they were, and that, most importantly, I was losing sight of the point of the exercise, which is not just to have pretty pictures after an inventory.

Another observation I made is about my physiological practice: in my daily practice, I try, I experiment with different things to simply observe what happens differently. A few months ago, I started practicing the push that comes from the “bubbling spring” in different movements. I noticed quite quickly that when I put my attention to pushing from that particular spot, I felt like I was straightening up more and that this straightening up went all the way to the top of my head. So I continued to practice this way until recently when I noticed that, in toryus and other exercises, my knees were making suspicious and not always pleasant cracking noises. I wondered what was going on. I tried to modify and concentrate on different things: vary the length of the step, try to be more relaxed… but nothing changed, the creaking was still there. I suddenly realized that I was indeed pushing from the “spring” but I was pushing only from there. As soon as I consciously tried to push with my whole foot, the cracking stopped. This little event revealed to me yet another aspect of my character: I can sometimes be so stubborn about doing something that consistency can turn into stubbornness or rigidity if I’m not careful.

With these three events, which in themselves are things that may seem minor or trivial at first, I simply wanted to illustrate that the arts we practice are revelations of who we are, if we pay attention to them. For me, they are the carriers and triggers of transformation.

I have also learned that transformation is not an outcome, an end result or a given, nor are the lessons learned forever. I feel like I have to walk the same path many times for transformation to take place, much like a trail that must be walked frequently for it to remain a trail.

_

Just as Taoist Tai Chi® arts work on body, mind and spirit, I’ve become more and more aware over the past 16 months that everything we do is connected.

When carrying out physical self-practice – whether of jongs, foundations or throughout the movements – there are so many points where a strong connection can be felt between one part of the body and other parts.

How good is it when the force from the feet transmits up the spine to the crown of the head and the feeling is that outward movement and coiling of the arms is driven by that force to just happen without conscious use of muscle – nothing faked. There’s that expansion following contraction and an amazing feeling of being ten feet tall … and ten feet wide.

Then there’s the connection felt in admin work for the organisation at local, regional or national level – helping others who are working hard to maintain the organisation and to prepare for the future when we go forward with in-person sessions.

But it doesn’t apply only there. During chanting when we are well-aligned with elbows down, there is a connection when from deep within, the rhythmic sounds flow, the circulation surges and the spirit lifts.

On top of that, there is the connection every Saturday with a thousand other people from around the globe simultaneously Chanting for the World. Thanks to technology, we are not alone. Not only that, during discussions we are connected in a very direct way to Master Moy’s teachings.

Truly, this has been a precious time.

At the start of COVID, I had no idea how much my understanding and practice would change. Words and language that I’ve heard for years, ‘let it go’, ‘balance’, ‘from the heart’ have become embedded in my practice, indeed my life.

I was enticed to Taoist Tai Chi® arts by the charm of the movements. All my life I have loved and studied movement, so the 108 steps held a certain fascination for me. Learning the precision of the movements was a source of pleasure and provided focus for my practice. Of course I had heard many times that “its not just about the 108 moves”, but I still understood the set to be the foundation of the arts. Then the pandemic began.

Previously reluctant to try chanting, the Saturday sessions offered a chance to practice without fear of judgement, because I was on my own. At first the kneeling and focus were very difficult for me, but gradually I’m becoming more confident and knowledgeable and can kneel throughout the ceremonies. I’m learning to “let it go” and open my heart to find deepening understanding. I feel that chanting provides me with a growing connection to the Taoist Tai Chi® arts and when I find myself humming part of a chant, I realize how deeply it has seeped into my life.

Saturdays form a valuable part of my self practice rituals. I feel such gratitude for the lessons and learning opportunities they provide. In these COVID months, I am learning so much about the teachings of Master Moy and the benefits I feel as I become more consistent at putting them into practice. My head is filled with the stories and meanings behind the ceremonies, his teachings, Taoism and the journey of self practice. Reaching for the heart of the understanding is a journey I continue to pursue.

My path has become even clearer and stronger since joining the Wednesday morning meetings. I feel such a profound sense of privilege and responsibility. I am truly grateful to be able to see and hear from the directors and the wisdom and integrity of their actions. We have been urged to find our voices through written reflections and I feel the responsibility to do this. However, I find listening to and reading about the journeys of others both a source of inspiration and a source of worry, feeding the concern that I’m not at that level.

As I’m learning from his teachings, like each of us, I realize that I am on my own journey, with its own challenges and joys. What I have come to understand is that I am finding balance in my life because of these arts.

Over the summer our house has been the centre of family life, filled with the pleasurable, though often chaotic goings on of our children and grandchildren. After the visits, sometimes lasting a few weeks, friends have asked and assumed that I must be exhausted. But I’m not! Even in the height of activity, I have been able to find calm and stillness. These arts live within me and because of them I can relish the richness of an aging life, and for that I am truly grateful.

The biggest change for me during the last two years was developing the discipline to self-practice. It made me realize that I’m the only one who can change myself by taking action.

This daily practice has improved my self-confidence a lot. It also helped me to look at myself in a more honest way. By doing that I saw that I used to postpone or eventually cancel many things in my life. I don’t see worry yet as the cause of it but more a strange idea of being efficient by combining things later. Or maybe it was just laziness.

Thanks to the conversation of one of our leaders in training with a fellow participant on her learning and her office tasks as an FLK administrator, now I start to finish things one by one, right away and without delay. I realized that the delayed things popped up in my mind all the time which caused unrest. Now when things are done, they are out of my mind and my mind can rest. It will also help me to focus better.

Just as I managed to make self-practice a daily routine, I’m confident that this new habit will get stronger by time. And it will help me to let go more.

I’ve been practicing Taoist Tai Chi® arts for about 30 years. During the last year and a half, I’ve been doing some personal practice.

Some thoughts:

When I have the discipline to practice every day, everything is better: I’m less stressed. Things don’t freak me out. I’m less anxious. I feel strong and healthy. If I don’t practice every day, the above doesn’t happen as well.

When I practice well, I can get into a zone of ease, relaxation and balance. And sometimes the practice feels similar to when I’m on a New York City subway and it’s loud and annoying and I click on my noise cancelling headphones and it’s blissfully quiet. This lovely feeling does NOT happen all the time! But when it does, it’s a pleasure. And I had heard and believed that all these Taoist Tai Chi® arts could have the same feeling. A few weeks ago, for a very short time, I had that same feeling of relaxation and ease in the Saturday chanting. Again, rare, but what a wonderful feeling.

I believe that I could have the same feeling in meetings and administration, but I’m not there yet!

Because of all the communications and meetings during COVID, I have really gotten a bigger idea of what FLK is about and the breadth of Mr. Moy’s teachings.

I’m seeing that it’s all about helping people, and helping the world, and being on a lifelong path to do that better and better.

_

The pandemic closed our sessions for an indefinite time. For a while we hoped to start again in summer of 2020 and this encouraged us, but it did not last long.

None of us was ready for such a situation, and each of us adapted to it in our own way. Thanks to new technologies, we can be in touch 24 hours a day, but nothing can replace meetings in person. At first, I very much welcomed chanting as a unique opportunity to improve my pronunciation and ability to follow a text.

Over time, I began to miss the atmosphere of chanting together. I was wondering whether or not I should take part in meetings and chanting sessions on Zoom. Then I realized that I had the opportunity to learn many other things for which there was no space during the meetings we were having before.

In my thoughts, I began to go back to the time of my beginnings of my Taoist Tai Chi® practice, when, like everyone else, I was focused only on practicing the moves. Over time, I have found that practice and people help me to be calmer and more balanced, more able to solve problems.

Leaving the rented building we had in Ostrava was a big challenge for me and I had to cope with it. At first, it was a problem to accept that we are going to close it. Over time, thanks to communication with the leaders in training, I understood the reasons why it was right to do so.

We are always encouraged to practice on our own, which I was already doing before the pandemic, so I had no problem with that. Nevertheless, like all of us, I really miss practicing together, but on the other hand, I have now time to think about the single moves.

When we started self-practice last year, I first trained so that I had imaginary contact with the group, which means at the same time I had led the group before pandemic. But this way did not last me long. Saturday’s meeting, where people talked mainly about the feeling, became a great motivation and instruction on how to continue.

I realized that it’s not just about “how I feel” as I felt usually well, but about “what I feel”. I couldn’t answer that. I also realized that by practicing a certain amount of movements, nothing will really happen. It seemed to me that I had to start from the beginning. For several months, I have been practicing only foundations (tendon changing exercises, tor-yu, don-yu), monkeys and brush knee, as we did during the last retreat, and followed the instructions we received then.

I began to perceive my body as a machine that knows what to do, but does not work or works only to a limited extent and needs to loosen each of individual parts. The movements suddenly seemed very rich to me – with lots of details. I always focused on one movement and the instructions began to emerge on their own. I began to perceive my body more, especially my spine. I have an old clock at home, which is wound by hand with a key. My spine seemed to work in a similar way – including the slight backward movement I feel in my fingers every time I turn the key.

At the same time, I felt a great relaxation of the cervical spine to the inner ear area, and after more than 20 years, I got rid of tinnitus in my right ear (not yet in my left ear). While practicing don-yu, I suddenly got the feeling that I had found the center of gravity of the body. One move helps others and vice versa. Five years ago, the doctor told me that I had one leg 1 cm shorter. I don’t think I have it anymore. By loosening the neck and hips, my whole body straightened. Suddenly I understood a sentence I often repeated in my class that “every body is different.”

I never talked much to people about myself, especially about my feelings, as I couldn´t talk about them well – they were associated with very strong emotions that I couldn’t handle. I started practicing Taoist Tai Chi® arts precisely because I heard that “it can work with emotions”. Now that I’ve been training alone for a long time, I find that to be the case. I am calmer, I can express myself better about different feelings, even name them, not succumb to self-pity.

I feel better in my body, although sometimes I have an inner feeling like I’m missing something, but I don’t know what’s it is yet. When I led the session, I always felt good. If I don’t have a session now, should I miss something? The opposite is true. I have found that if the source of well-being is to be permanent, it cannot be sought outside, but within oneself.

I became acquainted with Taoism at a young age, but very superficially. It seemed to me that this teaching was not applicable to everyday life, e.g. wu-wei. This attitude did not fit my ideas, because I confused it with indifference. Thanks to Saturday’s meetings and chanting, talking about various aspects of Taoist Tai Chi® teachings, and thanks to individual practice, I understood that it was different. Everything began to connect. I have found that the inner peace that Taoist Tai Chi® practice brings me has nothing to do with indifference. And I have one more finding: The more I practice alone, the more I feel connected to others.

I am grateful for all the meetings and transfers of experiences without which I cannot imagine deepening my practice. Although I can’t attend every time, I stopped regretting it. A good training for me is also the art of choosing what is important at a given moment, and getting rid of other things, not having remorse that I can’t catch everything. This allows me a deeper experience.

I did not participate in lunar chanting one Saturday, although it is one of my favorites. We were in Klatovy (CZ) on a feast, where people come from different cities, meet friends and family. I met an old friend there who said to me: You look good. I thanked her. And she continued: You looked awful last year. I thanked her again with a smile.

“I thought I was” practicing on my own with daily don yus and attending many sessions each week, but I now realize the benefits of actually relying on myself. The quiet time allows me to begin to hear the internal feeling and calms my mind.

The message of consistency especially intrigued me both in the sense of daily, ongoing practice and the deep sensation of smoothing the physical body out. I have kneaded bread and the transformation from pasty, sticky to smooth and elastic dough is a clear image. I trust that if we just keep going in our practice, day after day, changes will occur.

The notion of “practicing with sincerity” and not just on a superficial level is the difference between having to do something and simply making it a part of my daily activity.

At first I struggled with finding mental space and time; as I continued each day it became easier, more natural. Now I am finding that I look forward to my morning practice and that other times seem to open up naturally throughout the day to continue it. If I find myself getting impatient, for example, that’s a wonderful time to work on my own practice.

Chanting has become a regular part of my day and week as well. After missing LIT Week in January of 2020 due to bronchitis, I was instructed by my physician to begin some breathing exercises. I thought, “I know a breathing exercise – chanting.” On several visits to the International Centre Canada, I have been inspired by the experience of chanting in the Three Religions Temple and I brought home the pink booklet.

I was able to take this opportunity to try chanting on my own. After reading the translation of Goon Yam Gau Foo Ging and its message of compassion, I began chanting it each day, at first standing, later kneeling. Daai Bei Jau seemed out of reach, and repeating each three times? I could hardly keep the pace. But as Chanting for the World continued, consistently, week by week I felt stronger. I found that the kau sau at the beginning and end increased the circulation and helped open my back, too. I could relax into it and that carried over into my day. Now new scriptures challenge but don’t dissuade me; it’s like being a beginner again, and time will bring deeper understanding. Perfection is not a goal.

Reflection is itself a practice, and like a physical form, I think it involves a process of calming the mind, slowing down the rush of new ideas, projects, solutions, plans that have been a large part of my daily routine. A mind racing here and there does not allow feelings from the heart to be heard. This is still challenging me.

I thank Master Moy, his teachers and our leaders who have dedicated themselves to making these arts available. I am grateful that the his teachings are part of my life. I feel happier and not anxious. I know that changes will continue as I continue to practice, that the path is a long one and that I am learning patience and compassion for myself and others.

I have been amazed at the evolution in the quality of my practice that has resulted from the past year of self practice/self reflection. Along with increased calmness and relaxation, I have a new-found impression of fullness, solidness and increased stability. In addition, I have discovered that finding the ground during the movements brings the perception that my entire body is involved in each move. This “total body sensation” is especially strong during the kicks as I feel my body moving out in all directions but is also present in other moves and the foundations.

While it can be difficult to quantify the progress I have made in the quality of my Taoist Tai Chi® practice, other aspects are more easily measured. As I relaxed in my movement and concentrated on fully completing each move while maintaining continuous motion, I noticed that the time I took was increasing. I find that slowing down allows me to become aware of and more fully appreciate aspects of the moves that are not as evident when proceeding more quickly. Some examples of this include the sense of relaxation and muscle release as I settle into the back foot on Grasp Bird’s Tail or the weight transfer from foot to foot in Wave Hands Like Clouds.

It has been difficult to find the positive aspects of this global pandemic. However, I do appreciate the deeply enriching experience brought about this year by continued self practice and the weekly directors’ discussion and chanting.