Interestingly, since I published my website, although it’s primarily for those who live close enough to actually come to the classes, I’ve had a lot of ‘likes’ from ‘Down South’ and ‘Across the Pond’ thanks to Facebook where I have been unashamedly plugging Town and Village. Those that have been to my classes will have heard a lot of my anecdotes and tales of when things do not go smoothly at the various venues where I run my sessions and some will have experienced them first hand.
My first class was (and still is) run at a Warden controlled Care Home, where we use their dining room with adjoining kitchen. Over the years we have had to contend with the residents coming through to feed the birds (not sweet little garden birds, but huge gulls and crows) or arriving early for their lunch. Occasionally we will have someone sit quietly and watch us, or wander in to ask where a particular member of staff is. It is of course their home, and I tell my class that’s it’s a test of their concentration. Hardest to ignore is the intercom that (very rarely) blares out – which I brush aside with ‘Hi de Hi!’ Other distractions include lawnmowers, gardeners and window cleaners, and the smell of lunch being prepared often leaves us all with rumbling tummies, but I like the venue as in the summer we can practice outside under the apple trees. Another long standing class is run up on the first floor of an old shirt factory, where I tell prospective students that if they can make it up the stairs, they are more than fit enough to attend the sessions. It’s usually a quiet place but we hope there are no fire alarm tests as it’s a small room and is ear splittingly loud when it goes off. We did once have to endure the next door room being used by a dance class; the volume of the music was so loud that the instructor had to scream at the top of her lungs to make herself heard. I’m pretty sure a lot of the dancers left with their ears ringing, and we were a little shaken too; I dread to think of the damage to the hearing of the dancers. One hall is next to a café, and we had to make sure the staff knew not to start hoovering up the crumbs during the last five minutes when we meditate. Legend tells of a meditation class run in the same room in the evening which started pretty well until the Tap Dance class upstairs got going. Whether that’s an urban myth, I don’t know but it always reminds me when booking a room for a new class that the room has to be warm and reasonably quiet. I don’t expect deathly silence, but it’s always good to check what other sessions are running at the same time, or who else is using the building. One hall decided to run a crèche in the next room despite us having a long running booking slot; that did not go well and it moved to another venue not long after. Another was a beautiful room but the main entrance had an electronic ‘bell’ attached to the door, which was a little disturbing at best, and very intrusive during meditation. I think the loudest interruption we ever had was at a Community Centre, where contractors had arrived to inject cavity wall insulation just as we started. There was no other room available and I was forced to mime the session due to the noise. We could hear the foam being forced into the wall, and it sounded as if it would come up over the top and down on top of us through the ceiling. I believe I wasn’t charged for using the room. Users of the small gym at that venue have to walk through the hall past us, and few bother to tiptoe silently – again that’s a test of our concentration. At the other extreme of the noise spectrum comes a couple of times when despite all I have managed to contract a heavy cold to the point of losing my voice. Of course then it is impossible to cancel class as although I have all the phone numbers, I could be mistaken for a heavy breather. It’s was an interesting experience to have to mime everything and so far no beginners have turned up when I’ve been afflicted; my regulars always cope well with our usual routines. Over the years, I have come to understand that outside noise is usually unavoidable. It’s easy to concentrate or meditate in a tranquil beautiful place, but how much more valuable is it to be able to keep one’s focus in the middle of turmoil? If the noise is low key it’s easy to cope with – I ask my class to imagine that the conversation in the room next door is like the sound of a babbling brook, for instance. What is harder to cope with is when you can hear a conversation clearly enough for it to draw your attention away, or if the noise is sudden and sharp. It is useful to observe what feelings arise – annoyance, irritation, anger – and consciously let go. One explanation of meditation that I came across struck a chord with me; we are not necessarily trying to stop thinking or experiencing feelings or emotions – we are attempting not to get involved or attached to them. Practice makes perfect, so they say, so a little distraction is not a bad thing overall. I’ve often been asked what the difference between Tai Chi and Qigong are, and why there are different spellings. If you ask ten different teachers the same question, you will probably get ten different answers, so I will explain the way I understand it. It’s really a ‘how long is a piece of string?’ question, or ‘a rose by any other name’.
As Chinese is a tonal language using pictograms and not the Roman alphabet, it’s difficult to translate directly, and there are two different spelling systems that seek to translate for the Western world. Strictly speaking the correct terms are Taiji (supreme ultimate) and Qigong (breath work or energy work) because to the Western ear, 'Chi' 'Ji' and 'Qi' sound the same but represent different concepts. However, generally most people who do neither will recognise ‘Tai Chi’ rather than ‘Taiji’, and ‘Chi’ is a lot easier for us to read and pronounce so I tend to use this spelling for clarity. Both disciplines go back a long way into Chinese history, and are very closely related. You could say that they only have different names because we love to categorise in order to better understand the world around us. There are many different styles of Tai Chi (Yang, Wu, Chen, Sun to name the most well-known) that were originally named after the family or village of origin, and there are also many more types of Qigong. Each Tai chi style will have a ‘Form’ (a long flowing sequence that has martial applications) and Qigong has many sequences that have different purposes. These are often (but not always) named after animals or with numbers featuring in the description. For example, we have ‘Wild Goose Qigong’ and ‘Eight Pieces of Brocade’. The ultimate purpose of Tai Chi (at least originally) was to practice it as a martial art, but in the West this is not always the case. In the West, ‘Tai Chi’ is a term that most people will have some familiarity with, but ‘Qigong’ is not a term that is widely known, so a lot of classes may actually be more Qigong than Tai Chi. Many times I have had students look at me oddly and say ‘but what is Qigong?’ when it is something that they have possibly been practicing with me for months or years, and not registered when I have tried to explain it. It’s also hard to get your tongue around the word when you see it written down (pronounced 'chee gung'). If you ever see a class described as ‘Tai Chi Chuan’ then it will most probably concentrate more on the martial aspect. Some schools will be quite focussed on kicks, strikes and other combative methods, and others will teach ‘Ti Shou’ or ‘Push hands’ which can actually be relatively gentle, subtle and technically quite difficult or skilful. My own original training in Yang style worked toward Push Hands, but I don’t teach it. There are many different types of Qigong as well as many different styles and sequences. Here is a link to one of my teachers' website that explains it very well; http://www.pro-holistic.co.uk/what-is-qigong/ For the most part, emphasis is placed on sensing and sometimes moving Qi or Chi – also known in Yoga as 'Prana' and in Shiatsu as 'Ki'; there are many different terms for something that in conventional Western ideologies we have no direct equivalent. We can think of it as 'Life Force'. Some find it easy to sense, others either find it difficult or it takes them some time to develop sensitivity. However, as long as you follow the movements as best you can, following the principles of Qigong, you will get the benefit. I have mentioned the Forms of Tai Chi and the sequences of Qigong. Essentially, learning these forms and sequences is just the beginning. What really matters is the way in which you execute your Form or Qigong. There are basic principles which all of them follow – coordinating movement with the breath, being aware and mindful of your movements, executing them in a relaxed but accurate way. Beyond that, each style, each school, each teacher has their own understanding based on their training and experience, and on the influence of their teachers. For example, the stance may be shoulder width (Yang and Wu style) or wider (Chen style), steps taken may again be shoulder width (Yang and Wu) or shorter (Sun style), and pressure or weight can be concentrated mainly in the rear foot (Yang) or the forward foot (Wu). I have seen the same exercise executed in two different ways (one sinking to the back foot, the other to the front foot) though the two teachers had the same training with the same Taiji Master. This may seem confusing, but there are usually good reasons behind the discrepancies. Ask the teacher why they do it that way; they may actually know why and be able to explain in detail, but sometimes ‘Because my teacher does it that way’ is just as good an answer! I hope my understanding has helped to make things clear for you, the reader. Although I've been training for twenty years, I have only recently started to study Qigong, and consider myself lucky to have found a teacher who can explain it to me. I’m still learning and still open to new ideas and forms – and that’s the great thing about Taiji and Qigong, there is always more to discover..... Tai Chi was something I'd wanted to do for many years, after seeing footage of people practising in China in the open air, moving smoothly and in perfect unison, with grace and calm focus. I'd done Yoga over the years on and off, since I was a teenager, but found some of the moves difficult and it was hard to find classes that were consistent. It was the flowing movement and tranquillity of Tai Chi that appealed to me. I bought a book (there weren't many to be found at the time, in the early nineties) and followed it until I realised that I needed a teacher, someone who could show me what to do and answer my questions.
When I finally started classes at the Northern School of Tai Chi, I had children just coming to school age, and found it tiring keeping up with them - I'd find myself drinking coffee just to stay awake in the afternoons. I told myself that I needed to relax, and went along to the class (luckily only five minutes drive away) with a friend and my mother. I found my first session a very intense experience, but once I started, I knew it was something I wanted to pursue as far as I was able. After a few weeks, I found that rather than being relaxed, as I originally wanted to be, Tai Chi gave me energy , and it was much easier to cope with the children. I find this is a feature of Tai Chi; it may not always give you what you want, but if you stick with it, it will give you what you need. My original teacher, Dan Russell, was (and still is) an intriguing character. As well as running Tai Chi classes, he was a black belt in Goju Ryu karate and ran a Hypnotherapy clinic. When my eldest boy started Karate (thanks to the Power Rangers!) I was 'persuaded' to learn too, and stayed with it for nearly three years, stopping just short of brown belt level. At the time I enjoyed it - it also gave me a lot more energy, I lost weight, my fitness level went through the roof, and it helped me to better understand the martial aspect of Tai Chi. I eventually gave it up, because as I progressed, the risk of injury increased, and I felt more comfortable with Tai Chi and with the Yoga style that Dan's partner Lulu taught, a very dynamic style called Astanga. I still practice Yoga when I can although I will probably never manage the more athletic movements. Through Dan, I met a phenomenal Taiji teacher, Patrick Kelly, originally from New Zealand. He was one of the first Westerners to be accepted for training in Yang style Taiji by Master Huang Shen Shyan in Taiwan. He studied intensively for some years, then started to teach in and around Europe. Dan heard of him and was so impressed when they met that he asked him to come and visit our school, and he came regularly; originally once a year for a week at a time, and then less frequently. He also sent some of his senior students to help us 'polish up' our Form and partner work. Whilst all this was going on, one of my training partners invited me to her class. Yvonne (sadly no longer with us) ran a class for older people close to her home. After a couple of sessions, she told me she was planning to move away, and asked if I'd like to take over her class. I was completely taken by surprise as it had never occurred to me to teach - and I still had so much to learn! However, I agreed, and she taught me some simple and gentle exercises that were more suitable for the class. Over the years, I took on more classes - sometimes on my own, but mostly people would ask, and I'd set it up. Sometimes they really took off and other times they didn't, but I built them up and by the time my younger son left home for University I was self employed and worked every day of the week in various locations. That day when I decided to follow my instinct and start Tai Chi has brought me a long way - but I'm aware there's still so much to learn, and I love helping others to discover how much it has to offer. I'm looking forward to every second! |
AuthorAged 60, I've been practising Tai Chi for 25+ years and teaching for more than twenty years. This blog supplements my new website. Archives
March 2020
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