Many years ago, I watched a movie with my husband; it was a Chinese movie involving a student with his Daoist master. The student asks his master for some wise life lessons and the master replies, "Eat when you eat, sleep when you sleep."
 
Not long later, I was writing a letter to my university administration, to express my dissatisfaction with how certain class dates were changed at short notice that it had affected my travel plans, which involved flights that had already been booked. In the middle of my constructing this letter, my husband invited me to eat the hot meal that he had prepared and I decided to leave the letter aside to have the meal. However, my mind was still rummaging through the discontent I was experiencing with the school. Later, I had to spend time in the bathroom, dealing with my digestion that was reacting to my emotional state. In this moment, I became very aware how the Daoist master was right - "Eat when you eat." 
 
How often does this happen to so many of us? Many times we try to reflect on what we had eaten to find the "culprit" to blame for the indigestion and diarrhea we are experiencing, but actually it may have been how we were eating, with too many thoughts, among other things, and not what we were eating. Just as when we couldn't fall asleep, worrying about the events of tomorrow. Often times it was our minds being too busy with what was or will be, while expecting that our bodies calm down - "Sleep when you sleep."
 
Such simple advice, yet profound and sometimes feels unattainable. It is these very simple things in our everyday lives that make the difference, but we, unfortunately, seldom give recognition to the simple. We, as a society, love the complicated and the superheroes; hence, the overload of movies in the theatres about them, yet they are the flawed ones, who developed superhuman capabilities due to some deficiency or dis-ease that they experience. Take Batman for instance; his "normal-life" character being Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne becomes a vigilante, crime-fighting superhero after witnessing the murder of his parents as a young child. Basically, he experienced Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder (PTSD) as a child and as an adult compensates for his inability to control the events that shaped his life, by having "super" toys as well as assumes a different identity, behind a mask, in order to shape the life of others. Therein lies the complicated.
 
Actually, it is the simple and the steady regularity that gets us through life in a wholesome manner. In the 20 years of being a practitioner of Chinese Medicine, I have observed that those who find this regularity and consistency often also have habits that positively affect their lives. This begins already as children. When as children, we are served regular, homecooked meals, which we are maybe a part of the process of making, we become used to taking time to cook and eat with others. This then shapes the digestive system, in terms of rhythm and environment. I once treated a patient, who shared honestly with me how dietary changes that would require him to cook would not likely be successful. He realized that his growing up in a boarding school shaped his relationship to food; food was served to him and his fellow boarding schoolmates, of which they were not involved in its preparation process. He associated food with just going into a cafeteria, consuming enough so that he would have enough energy to go on with his day. I was thankful for his disclosure of his experience, as it helped me understand what he needed and my becoming aware of other realities of life. Many of us consume what is easy and fast, sometimes as we are moving to our next appointment, as we are trained as such. If we didn't give our digestive system the time or the space needed to digest what we just ingested, how can we expect that it will process it well. Just as when we humans were not given the time and space to do our work, how can we be expected to submit a successful, finished project. So maybe it is not just what is eaten, but also how we eat it, that shapes what we produce out of our bodies. But this does not mean we cannot change what we learned as children. This is where we have a choice, to be conscious of our habits.
 
Similarly with sleep; we drop into our beds after working on stressful projects or doing mind-stimulating activities, expecting that our body-mind would just calm down on its own, at a snap of a finger, enough to fall into regeneration mode. Maybe just like with our digestive systems, they will for a time, until they don't anymore. We are then confronted by our insomnia, tossing and turning in our bed, wondering why we can't fall asleep. Then, we imagine what it will be like when we have to work the next day with little sleep; thus, solidifying our inability to find the peace to sleep. The downward spiral continues on and on until we choose to stop it by becoming conscious.
 
Simple is not always easy, especially in our modern, complicated manner of doing things, which is often times neither efficient nor beneficial to us or our environment, even though we are told it should be. But if this is what we need, then it is time to become conscious of our everyday habits. Let go of the complicated that has not served us. Honour the simple, honour the everyday space and time! - "Eat when you eat, sleep when you sleep." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Image Sleeping Dog by Chris F on pexels.com

​Since I moved to the West over 20 years ago, this time of year feels challenging to me. I often feel a sense of conflict in myself, between my inner world and the world outside me. It is not just the cold and the darkness that we experience in the Northern hemisphere in December that confronts me, but also the disparity of my trying to live in harmony with Nature here and still function in the bustling human society around me. 
 
When I was a kid growing up in Malaysia, my family celebrated Christmas. I was brought up Catholic; we went to church every Sunday and at Christmas, we went to midnight-mass to celebrate the birth of Jesus. At home, we put up our fake plastic Christmas tree and decorations, topped off with white-cotton-wool to mimic snowflakes as well as blinking lights to simulate snow-glistening. Just like in the Western movies, except there weren't gifts under the tree; partly because we couldn't afford gifts for a family of 8 but also it just wasn't part of our culture. I recall getting 1 gift at Christmas when I was about 7, a skipping rope with a counter, that went defective 2 months after that. My parents adopted the giving of the envelope with money, Hóng Bāo (Red Packet) for Christmas as well as in Chinese New Year, which I hear is very common in Malaysian Christmas gift-giving.
 
Why did we have a fake plastic coniferous-like tree in our living room in tropical Malaysia? First of all, very few conifer trees grow just above sea-level in the tropics. Hence, the fake plastic substitute. As Malaysia was a British colony till 1957, I imagine we adopted many of the eccentricities of the British as well as the influence of American movies, never really understanding the meaning of Christmas and things related to its celebration. The conifer was/is used for its evergreen quality, as a reminder that life would return after the dark, sunless days of winter in the Northern hemisphere. But in tropical Malaysia, most plants are almost always green due to the warm climate and daily sunlight all year round. It is kind of a redundant practice there. What's more, putting white cotton to imitate snow that never falls in the tropics is a little bizarre, because most people in Malaysia have never experienced snow unless they have travelled elsewhere for it. But I imagine that finding meaning in our lives wasn't and still isn't the goal of capitalism, which is what Christmas has become; another means to sell more stuff and create need where there is none. I am not saying that we can't celebrate Christmas in Malaysia, I think we could find other more meaningful representations that actually mean something to the local culture.
 
While the dark and cold, pushes me to go inward, the bright lights and sounds of Christmas, not to mention the fixation of the populace on gifts and consuming wrenches me outward. I know I risk being called a Scrooge with my "Bah humbug" attitude towards Christmas, but Christmas as I know it in the modern world lacks meaning; my aversion is to the capitalistic form of Christmas, not to that that is personal and meaningful to each. Most people feel disconnected and stressed at this time of year, and it's no wonder. We need to find meaning again to life and the beings around us. For me, I celebrate the Returning of the Light at the Winter Solstice, the turning of the tide from inward to outward. But before I can come outward, I have to go inward. Some students of mine asked me recently how we could go inward and when we still have to go to work and are compelled to produce outward. I use the analogy of listening to music; we can still listen to music but we can turn the volume down to 3 and not keep it at the maximum of 10. This way the music is still playing but the outward manifestation of the intensity is muted, leaving more space as well as energy to store and recover what was used in warmer times.
 
I have let go of fake plastic trees, we have a fir tree in a pot that we bring in and decorate with candles a few days before Christmas, for years now. The rest of the year, it is in our garden in a shady spot, growing in the environment where we live in. I try to make my own presents, like cookies and herbal wines, to gift family and friends; something from the heart, not from the store. We share meals together and time. This for me is what this time of year is about, having time and space to share with one another.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
Image Green Pine Tree Leave by Roman Kaiuk on pexels.com

In the year 1988, I turned 14 and I remember the Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea very well. I was a rhythmic gymnast myself, so I was really excited to watch my sport but also all the other sports; this was my chance to see the world's best in any sport, the spectacle and pomp of the event. As an athlete, and I have heard from so many others who share this view, I felt like the Olympics would be the ultimate experience; to represent your country, in your sport and win. What I remember of that Olympics was the 100-meter race. The favorites to win were the American, Carl Lewis, who had won it in the last Olympics in 1984 and Ben Johnson, the Canadian who broke the world record the year before. The final race came and Ben Johnson won in world-record time, receiving the gold medal. The headline on every news broadcast and newspaper I read declared him a hero. Then almost overnight, he wasn't. He was stripped of his gold medal when he tested positive for Stanozonol, an anabolic steroid. He went from "Ben the Hero," to "Big Bad Ben;" this was literally the words they used, as in the Big Bad Wolf in the fairytales and it stuck in my memory. 
 
In that Olympics, rhythmic gymnastics was an official sport for the first time. I had been in the sport for 2 years already and watched every world championship video I could find like more than 20 times, sometimes in slow motion, to study how each move was performed. I knew most of the top gymnasts who would be competing in Seoul. The favorite was Bianka Panova of Bulgaria. She had won the world championships a year before, in every event - from individual all-round and the four apparatus, with the "perfect score," meaning 10.00 at that point in time. There were others who had 10.00 but not in all events like her or even with the grace she exhibited. So Bianka Panova was the favorite but that did not manifest in that Olympic games. She dropped her club in one of her routines and did not score a 10.00. This one mistake plagued her for the rest of her other routines, which were all perfect 10.00s. She ended up with no medal in 4th place. In the circle of my fellow gymnasts, we had discussions of how she didn't look so healthy; that maybe she had an eating disorder. The one who was so perfect and graceful suddenly seemed fallible, mortal even.
 
These are some of the stories that have stayed with me for over 30 years now. The images of these humans performing amazing feats, almost impossible at times. "Citius, Altius, Fortius"- "Faster, Higher, Stronger," the Olympic motto. We look up to them and put them on pedestals to make them heroes, so perfect and almost immortal. We make statues of them to admire and venerate, almost frozen for eternity in stone. Yet we know somewhere deep down in us that they are no more human than we are. We all wanted to love Ben Johnson, the fastest man alive in 1988 but he was toppled from this pedestal by a urine test, and he became then Big Bad Ben. Bianka Panova, who looked so perfect the year before when she was winning with perfect scores, looked skinnier and fragile. Over 20 years later she wrote an autobiography of her life training in the Bulgarian national training center, where she described mistreatment and disregard for her health by coaches. We never know what story lies behind a picture, or an athlete or a person, until we take the time to find out and even then, time may reveal more than we expect. What may seem like a blessing today, may be a curse tomorrow. Maybe a hero is only an illusion, another side of the coin that can so easily flip.
 
I am reminded by a story book I used to read to my kids almost every night for a while when they were younger. It's called Zen Shorts" by John J. Muth. He tells a story, "The Farmer's Luck," in this book, which is an old Daoist story and can also be found in Zen Buddhist teachings. It goes like this:
 
'There was once an old farmer who worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. 
"Such bad luck," they said sympathetically. 
"Maybe," the farmer replied. 
The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it two other wild horses. 
"Such good luck!" the neighbors exclaimed. 
"Maybe," replied the farmer. 
The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown off, and broke his leg. Again, the neighbors came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. 
"Such bad luck," they said. 
"Maybe," answered the farmer. 
The day after that, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army to fight a war. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. 
"Such good luck!" cried the neighbors. 
"Maybe," said the farmer.'  
 
 
 
 
 
Reference
 
Muth, John J. (2005): Zen Shorts. New York, USA: Scholastic Press
 
 
 
 
 
 
Image Olympic Figure by Frans van Heerden on pexels.com
 
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​A few days ago, I looked into a book that was passed on to me and extremely invaluable as I attended university in the 1990s - an English dictionary. Since my last post about Sweet Potatoes and Roots, I have been contemplating this word "Root." So I looked in to find the definition of Root and I find 12 different possibilities as a noun and as a verb. Most of them have something to do with having a "base" or "core" or "source," whether referring to human, plant, language or mathematics, and even to encourage. Fascinating, isn't it? 
 
Many of the Herbal Medicines in the Chinese Materia Medica are Roots. One that particularly stands out is Ginger and is listed in a few different forms. They are fresh Ginger (Rhizoma Zingiberis Recens, 生姜 Shēng Jīang), Ginger peel (Cortex Rhizoma Zingiberis Recens, 生姜皮 Shēng Jīang Pí), dried Ginger (Rhizoma Zingiberis Officinalis, 干姜 Gān Jīang) and quick-fried Ginger (Zingiberis Rhizoma Praeparata, 炮姜Páo Jīang).
 
In its fresh form, just like we get them here in the normal grocery store, Rhizoma Zingiberis Recens, 生姜 Shēng Jīang, is a food-grade herb. As such, one can cook it with other ingredients to enhance the taste of that particular food, like fish, meat or vegetables. In some Asian supermarkets, you may find young ginger, that which is yellowish in color with a green stem protruding out of the rhizome. This form is a little less warming than the older brown version. Herbal decoctions regularly containing multiple Herbs, prescribed by a Chinese medical practitioner, often includes Ginger to harmonize the Herbal Formula combinations; aiding better absorption of the Herbs into the body and to prevent possible toxic side-effects from other potent Herbs. In fact, I have read that Ginger can be used as a remedy for food poisoning, and in fact is cooked with fish in order to neutralize toxins in many traditions. 
 
In the everyday, we can grate it, make an Herbal infusion out of it just by adding hot water and letting it steep for 10 minutes just as a beverage. This can be very helpful too if you had symptoms like chills and/or fever caused by the common cold virus. In fact, making a foot-bath or a whole-body-bath with this infusion till one gets warm and sweaty would also help expel what we call "Wind-Cold Invasion" in Chinese Medicine. If you wanted to enhance the digestive effect of Ginger, then you can throw in a couple of slices of Ginger into a pot with water and cook it for at least 15 minutes. This infusion would be less spicy but more warming for the Stomach, good for stopping nausea and vomiting in pregnancy or otherwise, help relieve bloating and digestive distress. Shēng Jīang enters the Lung, Spleen and Stomach, is spicy and warm. In contrast, Shēng Jīang Pí, Ginger Peel is spicy-cool and is good for edema and promoting urination. 
 
As with anything, too much of a good thing transforms it to a hindrance. If you tend to heat in your system, then too much Ginger will overheat you. A spicy flavor will circulate Qi and too much circulation will dry out the body. Use moderately or speak with your practitioner, if Ginger is appropriate for you. I find that this is one of the many simple Herbal foods that I almost always have at home or with me when I travel. One of our favorite meals is rice with chicken, cooked with Ginger, soya sauce and Sesame oil; a simple but scrumptious recipe passed down to me from my mother. Like so much around the world, people have used food as medicine since time in memorial. It is only us modern urban-dwelling, city-folk, who are often times disconnected from nature, who question the validity of food as being able to affect our health or never really realizing that what we put into our bodies might affect who we are. Just because something doesn't come in a form of a pill, doesn't make it less potent. In fact, it is this that I challenge; something in its purest form, like the Ginger Root, may be the strongest medicine as it is whole. In its wholeness, it helps us to find unity in ourselves, to reconnect us to our source, to our core. 
 
 
 
 
Image Ginger Root by Engin Akyurt on pexels.com
 

​​We just passed the phase of the Autumnal Equinox, around the 21st of September here in the Northern hemisphere. The "change" from Late Summer to Autumn has reared its severe head. Here, we have been presented with 20-degree temperature difference overnight; warm and sunny in the day hitting mid-20s, then down to 5 degrees in the night. Our bodies, with pores wide open like windows of our houses in Summer, were shocked into closure. If not, we got sick with a cold or digestive distress, forcing us to stay in bed under warm covers, which in a way is a form of drastic closure. 
 
After the Autumnal Equinox passes, the light of the sun diminishes every day; over a minute at sunrise and over 2 minutes at sunset. What does this do to living beings on this hemisphere? It makes us, animals and plants, focus more inward; our energies begin to be more Yin concentrated. It is then not surprising that we modern humans stay more indoors, as it is colder, darker and we feel less active, possibly even tired. If you have been feeling this way these past few weeks, there is nothing wrong with you. Nature and the weather affects us because we are a part of nature. What we can do is to honor this connection by taking time to do quiet things, to rest and sleep more. Also, to eat certain foods that will help the process of moving inward, such as with root vegetables. There is this idea in Chinese Medicine and other forms of Complementary Medicine that "like treats like"; if we want to feel more rooted, we should ingest roots, as they will guide our energetic body to create more "rooted connections."
 
One of my favorites is Sweet Potato, 番薯 Fān Shǔ, Ipomoeas batatas in Latin. That's the plant pictured above. For the past few years, we have been planting this wonderful vegetable in our garden as it is a plant that almost all parts - leaf, stem, flower and root, are edible. Its leaves are heart-shaped and they creep and hang off the edge of our veggie-raised-beds, with its blossom so like the Morning Glory. They can propagate by leaf-cuttings but if you had a root that was sprouting, like many root vegetables, you can put this root in a bit of water to allow the sprout to grow leaves and then place them in the Earth. One can boil the roots in water with a little salt, add them to curries, fry/ bake them like Sweet Potato fries or make Sweet Potato pie with walnuts, like they do in the US for Thanksgiving. In East Asia, we make Rice Congee with Sweet Potato roots, deep fry them with a batter to make tempura in Japanese cuisine or in ball-form as a sweet snack in Malaysia (fān shǔ dàn) or served in a sweet soup in China. We also eat the leaves and stems, in the Spring-Summer seasons, as a stir-fry like you can with spinach, with a little garlic and soy sauce. They are beautiful beings that thrive in sunny, warm conditions, but are very sensitive to frost, as they are originally from Central/ South America like the regular potato. As such, it is now soon time to harvest the roots in our garden.
 
In Chinese Medicine, Sweet Potato is sweet in flavor, neutral to cooling in temperature and, affects the Spleen, Stomach, Large Intestine and Kidney meridians. When a food or herb is naturally sweet in flavor, it often will tonify Qi. As such Sweet Potato's functions include strengthening Spleen to promote Qi, increase mother's milk production, as well as helps support bowel movements, remove toxins from the body, builds the Yin in the body, which then treats dryness and inflammation. From a Western nutritional perspective, its orange color already suggests that it is high in Beta-Carotene, Vitamin A. Sweet Potato is also high in Vitamin C and E, potassium and fiber. Its natural sweetness and being a root vegetable, versus fruits, has a low-glycemic index and can help stabilize blood-sugar imbalances such as diabetes. Hence, one can eat it as a dessert without having any processed sugar or fructose. I know people who do not tolerate night-shade vegetables, such as potatoes and tomatoes, but Sweet Potatoes are not night-shades, as such very agreeable with those who have these issues. As often the case with most things, too much of a good thing transforms it to a hindrance. Eat it or anything with consciousness, LESS IS MORE.  
 
I find the Sweet Potato plant so versatile and resilient, taking root all over the world; from the Americas to Asia-Pacific, Africa and Europe through the Columbian Exchange, but also it has been found that Polynesia had cultivated this plant before the British came to the islands. We can learn a lot from this plant in being adaptable yet being able to root almost in every continent on the Earth. Best of all to go inward to find our own roots at this time of year.
 
 
 
Image Sweet Potato Plant and Blossom by Elaine
Image Sweet Potato Roots by Suanpa on Pixabay

The scene is set. Two Tai Ji Quan players are about to engage in a fight. They stand facing each other, neither begins, neither moves. They wait for the other to begin the attack. They are standing still, yet nothing is static. Qi is flowing, they are both sensing the subtle changes of the other and the environment. Through sensing, comes awareness. A Tai Ji Quan player will have an edge over the other, if her/his ability to sense is more acute. The moment one begins an attack, s/he has begun a forward, outward motion of energy, transmitting her/his information of her/his energetic distribution to the opponent, who will then utilize this energy to a counterattack. As such, no Tai Ji Quan player would make the first move, unless s/he is sure that her/his Qi is stronger than the other. Check out this clip from the movie "Hero," from many years back. It is not of Tai Ji Quan but demonstrates what I am trying to describe very well.   
 
Tài Jí Qúan太極拳, sometimes written as Tai Chi Chuan (Wade-Giles romanization), translates as "Supreme Ultimate Fist." As you may have read in a previous post, Tai Ji Quan is a martial art with Chinese roots. It is estimated that 300 million people from at least 57 different countries practice Tai Ji Quan, making it one of the most practiced martial arts in the world. However, many have no idea that it a martial art, even those who practice it, as it has been transformed into a method of maintaining health or a form of dance. And why should it not be so? If something has the ability to adapt better in a changing environment over a period of time, then this adaptation will ensure its survival. This is something that has helped Tai Ji Quan to persist and thrive in the world, as people of all ages, children, adult and elderly practice this art with different emphasis and intentions set by its practitioner. Maybe it is even this skill to adapt to change, which is in itself a flexibility in being, that the Tai Ji Quan practitioner acquires through the practice of this art. One image my Tai Ji Quan teacher, Donald Rubbo, used to present was of bamboo. He described how bamboo is flexible and bends with the wind without breaking, as compared to rigid trees that may be strong but break due to the lack of flexibility under the strain of strong winds.  
 
Tai Ji Quan is considered an internal martial art, meaning that the energetic work is done inside the body, versus an external focus where emphasis is placed on external strength. It is based on Daoist philosophy and the principles of Yīn-Yáng, which many of us know as the diagram with the black and white 'fish;' white fish with black eye and black fish with white eye. Master Huang, master of Tai Ji Quan, calligraphy and dance, describes the philosophy of Tai Ji and Yin-Yang very well through movement as well as intellectually. One of the Daoist ideas that is key to Tai Ji Quan and Chinese Medicine is the principle that we, all living beings living in this world, are connections between Heaven and Earth; the sacred trinity. If we learn to be and stay connected constantly to this Heaven-Earth power, we are always filled with Qi; thus, we are able to conserve our own personal Qi and Jing (life Essence) to maintain life in our bodies. A manifestation of Yin-Yang is in the form of the elements Fire and Water: 
 
"Fire rises and water flows down. Water can put fire out when placed on top. This is reversing. It is a natural law that never changes. However, when the water flows down and you put your pot under it to stop it from reaching its extreme limit, the result is the boiling of water. This is called Yin-Yang reversal theory that allows one to make use of the natural laws. The T'ai Chi boxing system is based on this reversal theory, which is used in every aspect of the skill." (Kuo, Guttman, 1994, p.1)
 
Tai Ji Quan applies these philosophical principles into movement and through practicing these movements regularly, we begin to embody these principles in living our daily lives.
 
Going back to that first scene in which I described the two players; my teacher used to emphasize to us to 'play' Tai Ji Quan when we got too serious thinking and trying to make the correct form or application. We learned to move slowly but also quickly, when it was needed. In moving slow, one becomes aware of the subtle changes in weight distribution on the different aspects of the feet; thus aiding in balance training. Also, the awareness of the space around oneself, the elements in the environment and that a gentle flick of the finger, when one is connected to her/his Dān Tían, can move boulders. One aspect of Tai Ji Quan is form training, Tào Lù, where one performs the empty-hand or weapon form without contact, and if so it is choreographed. This is how many people practice Tai Ji Quan, especially if it is for health and it works on the basic form. Tùi Shǒu is Pushing Hands; this is the application of the form with contact to another practitioner but only to push the hand to uproot her/his stance, not to strike, punch or hurt. Another two aspects are the Nèi Gōng and Qī Gōng, which translate as "internal work" and "Qi work" respectively. These refer to breathing techniques, meditation, awareness training, meridian stretching as well as stillness practice. For me these are the most important aspects of the practice because they work on the unseen, deeper connections of the individual to Heaven-Earth and the clarity of mind to dis/engage in a confrontation. With stillness in body, the mind learns to become still but the Qi flows relentlessly.
 
 
 
Reference
Kuo Lien-Ying/ translated by Guttmann (1994): The T'ai Chi Boxing Chronicle. Berkeley, CA, USA: North Atlantic Books 
 
 
 
 
Image by Ron on Pixabay

"Big watermelon, cut half. Serve left, serve right." - This is what I remember of Tai Ji Quan as a child growing up in Malaysia. We were at my uncle's and aunt's house for Chinese New Year celebrations and they wanted to share that new video that they were following along with to learn Tai Ji Quan. As I listened and watched, I thought then, "old people's exercise."
 
As I got to the US, I was in a modern contemporary dance class in university. The teacher, a former professional dancer with the Martha Graham Dance Company in her mid-30s, started to introduce some movements from Tai Ji Quan in our dance class. I thought, "Oh, my...big watermelon is back. Maybe there is something to this movement form, maybe I need to be more open to it, maybe it isn't just for old people." When I was injured from dancing later, I decided to take a Tai Ji Quan course taught by a physical education professor from China, who was doing a study on Tai Ji Quan and balance in the elderly at my university. I thought then that the movements of Tai Ji Quan were actually quite circular and inward-focused; in contrast to ballet, which were more focused on creating long lines that extend outward.
 
When I finally got to Chinese Medicine school, I knew that I wanted to study Qi Gong to aid in my energetic studies. I looked for a teacher near to where I lived, I found Shi Fu Donald and Cheryl Lynne Rubbo; they taught Qi Gong, Tai Ji Quan and Shao Lin Quan Gong Fu. After Qi Gong class, Tai Ji Quan would often begin and I saw people of all ages, children-teenagers from 10 years old onward, and adults from 20 to 70. My teachers were in their 40s. They were doing robust exercises, not just round watermelon-serving movements ;-) but low, deep stances that required strength and flexibility to perform. They were jumping, kicking, punching and blocking, sometimes in slow motion but also in normal or fast speed. It was then that I realized that Tai Ji Quan is a martial art; that some people actually practice this form of movement in order to fight and defend themselves from attack. My Shi Fu had the ability to apply their skills in combat but they chose to use them for health purposes; to train the body-mind to find healing and balance in life. I was encouraged by my Shi Fu to join Tai Ji Quan class too and later on Shao Lin Quan.
 
It took me a while to un-train my body, from the tension-filled holding and overextending style, which is normal in ballet, to a relaxed, easy sustaining of a posture or in performance of a movement. What is asked for in the practice of Tai Ji Quan is holding poses without muscular tension and moving in a flowing manner with little effort. This is the concept of Sōng 鬆 ; to let go of muscular tension and, enable Qi to flow as well as sustain postures and movement. Every time I thought I was getting it, Shi Fu Donald would tell me to relax and let go of the tension I was holding. Another focus of Tai Ji Quan that I find so vital and challenging is the movement that comes from the centre, the Dān Tían 丹田 . I had often heard in ballet classes to "move from my centre," but nobody could ever explain or showed me what that meant. This I learned vey quickly with my Tai Ji Quan teacher, as every time I would perform a movement he would come over to show me the martial application of it and my stance would crumble, if I was not moving or connected to my centre. Another aspect that I developed from the practice was patience and humility. Since I began learning organized movement from the age of 5, learning movement comes quick to me, but my Shi Fu would introduce to me 1 posture of the 64 from the Guang Ping Yang Style Tai Ji Quan form over a period of weeks, sometimes months. So, I learned to be patient and persevere in my repetitive practice of the same movements, sometimes at very slow speeds and sometimes on my own, as the other more advanced students continued on with the 64 movements.
 
As I look back on my first contact with Tai Ji Quan as a young person in Malaysia and what I later experienced practicing it, I realized that I was young and arrogant; too busy indulging in my youthful strength and sneering at those I imagined to be inferior to me. Making a movement like a big watermelon may sound silly, but it is an easy way to remember how to make the circular movement with the arms - a mnemonic. Like many things in Tai Ji Quan, or for that matter Chinese Medicine, it may seem simple but is effective and often times profound. As I have once mentioned in a previous post, there is a Chinese saying, "When you are ill, get Acupuncture/ Moxibustion, Tui Na and take Herbal Medicine. If you want to stay healthy, sleep enough and eat healthy. If you want to build strength, practice Tai Ji Quan/ Qi Gong." This is what I have observed for myself, Tai Ji Quan has helped me to develop not only physical strength in my body but also mental resilience in the face of challenging situations. Most importantly the patience and humility to approach life and the people I encounter. 




​Photo by Elaine

​​One morning last week, I was sitting eating my breakfast at the dining table, looking at the flower that my son received from his graduation ceremony the evening before. It was a red Gerbera, with a long stem and fine petals. The night before, I had hastily found a container to put it in as we got home. But at that present moment of observing the flower, I realized that the container, rather low and broad, did not hold or support the Gerbera at all. What this flower being needed was a long, slim vessel. So, right after my breakfast I went to look for one and I imagined I found the right one to complement it. This got me wondering about the word "complement." 
 
The noun "complement" in English comes from French, referring to "means of completing; that which completes; what is needed to complete or fill up." As a verb it means to "make complete." If one were to begin an internet search with the word "complementary," we get suggestions like "complementary colors," "complementary angles" and "complementary medicine." 
 
Looking at the picture above, the color wheel, we see a chart for complementary colors used by artists and graphic designers to create contrasts that catch the eye, as well as the attention. In the middle are the 3 primary colors and when we want to find the complementary color for let's say red, we add blue and yellow together and we get green. These 2 colors are complementary to each other. The outer circle shows us the complementary colors in opposition to each other in different shades of the primary and secondary mixes. This color concept is really about how one color enhances the other.

​Then there are complementary angles referring to 2 angles that add up to 90°, which is a right angle. This is basic geometry we learned in math class. For example, if an angle is 30°, then the other will be 60°, adding the sum total to 90°. In this case, the 2 angles complete each other.
 
To have a complement is to be made whole and completed. I like this description to explain Complementary Medicine. This term was created in the 1980s to describe medical and therapeutic practices that did not/were not allowed to be fitted into conventional medicine. Chinese Medicine has landed in this category in the West, as it did not fit into the model created by the dominant allopathic medicine. To be very honest, I find that it is rightfully so. When I understand the word complementary as being "made whole," I am proud to say I practice this form of medicine. Then, my focus is to help a person be/feel whole and well; not cut up into pieces and detached from her/himself. For me the focus of medicine is the person, the individual and what their body-mind needs to be healthy. In feeling healthy and thriving, the individual feels empowered; thus, being able to live well and make healthy life-style choices for her/himself.
 
As I go back to the example of my son's Gerbera, I observe the being as it is and try to understand what it needs to thrive in its environment. I help it by providing the appropriate container and the nourishment, that it may feel safe, nurtured and supported enough to grow for the time that it is with me. As we know, we are not here in our present state or situation forever; life is finite, we should cherish the time we have been given and have gratitude for the experience. As such, I also know that at one point this being will have to go to its next stage of life and I, who have provided this container must learn to let go, to give this being the possibility to move on. In doing so, I am a complement to that being. 


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Image Color Wheel by vector portal-pixel77
Image Angle by bjus