Bringing energy to bear is a matter of intent or spirit. The idea of a Tai Chi posture is that spirit and waist combine forces to corral the incoming energy and the energy generated by our own movements and involvement, through a yielding action into the tightening and intensifying spiral of the attack. The yielding action gathers energy, not just from the imaginary opponent but from all around – from the environment, external and internal, from your own past, recent and ancestral, and from energetic realms you may never become aware of, and funnels this energy into the final attack of each posture. As the energy passes down the funnel of your spirit it speeds up both in velocity and rotation, as would water spiralling down a plastic funnel. Because of the way our body is constructed (limbs can't twist indefinitely in one direction – the spirals must always return), and probably also because of natural laws (of compassion) that haven't been elaborated yet, the spirals are themselves generated by figures of eight. This is a crucial fact and is responsible for the emotions stirred up by Tai Chi (and especially heartwork). The figure of eight is the action of the heart – it is the action of bringing together and unifying without combining or fusing – combustion is only ever partial, at least until death. Each entity joins and communicates yet retains its identity and integrity. It is crucial that your motivation comes from the heart – that it breathes and beats with the heart of life. If it doesn't then it'll either be idle – habitual action – or it'll come from the mind. This is why both Tai Chi and Heartwork are such physical disciplines – there is far more natural wisdom in the body and its actions than there is in the mind; and the body, when it is loose, relaxed and interacting, is far more of the heart than the mind. It is the mind that pulls us away from the natural order and the natural process; it is the heart that brings us back. Courage is of the heart. Fear is of the mind. The work is emotional and the strength is in the affection – in the tears that well up but are never shed. “Nothing matters but the quality / of the affection – / in the end – that has carved the / trace in the mind . . .” (Ezra Pound).
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