Softness

A soft space is one that admits a plethora of possibilty: a listening space. A hard space is one predetermined – one that admits few possibilities – one ruled by law – the letter of the law indeed – forcing things into moulds. Hard spaces are often open in the sense that they expand and receive, but are always closed in the sense that they don't allow the objects and processes that enter them to be as they truly are: they listen but on their own terms and with their own agenda: heavy-handed (it always comes down to touch). It is crucially important, if you want your taichi to nourish your soul the way it can do and wants to, to invite it into a soft space each time you engage with it. This is the function of ritual: to set a mood that allows magic and miracle to enter the occasion. A good teacher is one that communicates well in the sense of bringing their soft space into the hearts of their students and inspiring them to open to possibilities they could neither have fathomed nor imagined alone, rather than one well able to transmit techniques. The tendency of soft spaces is to furl in on themselves – to effectively close up – simply because they are so overwhelming: they admit an onslaught, and the soft participant needs increasing resources of courage and energy to cope. Teaching is then an opportunity for the soft space the teacher carries to open up not only for the students but also for himself. One needs constant reminders of what one knows because one knows only softness and this is in one's energy and not one's mind, and this softness needs constant expression otherwise it becomes, or remains, a frightened child never venturing beyond its own nurturing.