29 October 2012
Not long after I arrived in Israel a reputable therapist told me that I needed to become strong. When I asked what she meant by that her reply was "To know what you want, and to know how to get it." Surprised by such an ego-driven and short-sighted definition of strength, I remained skeptical. Recently, reading Nietzsche, I came across his definition of a "strong and durable will" : "a will that can make and keep promises." That's more like it.
27 October 2012
Central equilibrium is a universal principle at work everywhere in everything. Simply put it states that any situation of relative stability or stillness is in fact a dynamic equilibrium of at least two, and generally many more, opposing forces or tendencies (vectors). In taiji we try to become aware of as many of these forces as we can, and relax the body and mind so that they can operate unimpeded. When I stand still gravity is pulling my body down, so something must be thrusting up to balance this force. When I relax thoroughly, this is from the ground, rising up the bones of my legs, and permeating the whole skeleton. Up through the bones, down through the flesh. The reactive force – the one balancing the main one – is finer, more subtle, and more true, because independent of any intention or intervention – unsullied by mind – unmediated. One of the (many) difficulties in taiji, and meditation generally, is how to find one's true centre without becoming self-centred. We recommend putting the Other first: that is, by directing our mind and attention towards the Other, a reactive tendency is set up in the opposite direction, straight into my true centre – or at least the centre which is true for me at this particular time in my development. Try and find the centre consciously – with mind – and we always miss the mark, because the mind, no matter how pure, is always swayed by habit, thought and feeling. The same mechanism with opening – the more I open unconditionally to otherness, the more something focuses and hones into my centre. This is the rationale behind any act of charity: the more I give, and the purer this giving (the more unconditional), the closer I become to my true essence.
26 October 2012
24 October 2012
Forget self and become one with the Tao. If we have a mantra in taiji then this is it. The Other, broadly defined as whatever is not me, and more specifically in taiji as the person I am about to engage, is, for us, the representative of the Tao. So what does it mean to become one with another person? When I am alone I am with myself, so in that first instant of confrontation with the Other this needs to change. This is a time of rupture as my attention shifts from my own thoughts and feelings to them – I attend to them – I put them first, if only momentarily, in the interests of conviviality – in the hope of a good connexion and a meaningful exchange. Once that connexion is established, which may take less than a second, my attention subtly shifts from them as other, to the togetherness and the energy it engenders. We are now one – I have become one with the Other.


