"Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart."
Yielding, simply put, is the fine art of turning the tables. Its skill lies in affecting the internal and external configuration – the moves – to make this at least appear to happen naturally. Obviously it must happen before thought, before observation even, which means it's all a matter of spirit and therefore of transformation: transforming myself to meet the situation but also transforming the situation to meet the limitations of my own abilities and desires: in other words, picking the fight. This is where yielding becomes seduction.


Allowing the superego, especially the collective one, to overrule heart and spirit may be a quick way to short term peace but it is also a sure way to long term hell.
Hop to it.
When the work starts to rock your foundations you'll feel pretty shitty. You won't know if it's a good thing or a bad. Just assume it's good. This is faith.
Be happy with what happens. This is softness.
"What does the brain matter compared with the heart?"

The next revelation changes everything and reveals me as fool, though never fraud, I hope. This is the way, and it's why we have two, why we are two. Two legs, two hands, eyes, ears, and so on. One hauls me onward and the other rests. And, as every weight trainer knows, growth happens during rest.
Learn to channel your strangeness. For that you need to not only think outside the box but live outside it.
Struggling with the impossible helps me achieve the possible. And all combinations thereof.


Kill one demon and the next immediately rears its ugly head. No peace for the wicked. It must be this way otherwise the student would waste years in self-congratulation.
Stay open to possibilities above and beyond both experience and prejudice, or remain a stuck-in-the-mud forever. And such possibilities always go against the grain – clash with the past.
Cheng Man-ching famously pooh-poohed aerobic exercise by dismissing it as "smothering the mind with sweat." Yet there is something real and honest about sweat (and blood, and tears) that Taiji rarely approaches, except in the hands of bright-eyed beginners and bushy-tailed masters.

We work on external stillness in order to achieve internal motility – energy. Intention is then the direction of this energy by the mind. It can only be approached through relaxation, otherwise the heart freezes over and there is no energy, only force.
Eventually communication – prayer – is everything. Or, rather, all that's left.
Energy, if you like, is the fine detail that becomes apparent when you listen with the heart.
Energy and connexion are, pretty much, the same. Or, rather, energy is the working of connexion.