My understanding of Tai Chi seems to come in the form of a sine wave: the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know, and as I adjust for more and more details, other details get lost.

For the last few months, I felt like I was getting nowhere. The concepts made sense in my brain, but not in my body. My teacher has said that Tai Chi is already too intellectualized, and as a person who’s never been very physically co-ordinated and tries to compensate in SHEER MENTAL POWA!, this holds true especially for me. Until I’ve mastered telekinesis, however, I’ll be reliant on more traditional means of movement.

One thing that helped a lot is when a senior student showed me what ward-off (peng) felt like. As he stood with structure in his body, I tried to push him¹, but ended up pushing myself off him and falling over. In order to move him, I was forced to use the proper technique (since he’s considerably bigger than me), and expand with my entire body — legs, waist, arms, chest, lungs — instead of simply trying to move through him.

Then we reversed roles and he pushed me until I could channel his energy through my feet. It was the first time I ever felt grounded, instead of simply understanding the idea. I still don’t really understand it, insofaras I couldn’t explain it to someone else.

Adapting this all to the form is something else. I try to focus on one thing at time² but it falls apart in other places. At this point, I’m just trying to get all the gross mechanics to be natural without having to think about it, hoping that I’ll eventually be able to fine tune everything else.

1. It reminded me of the feeling of squeezing a rubber stopper, something with give but not much, that becomes exponentially difficult to compress. [↑]
2. Such as staying at one level without being rigid (considered “breathing”), relaxing my lower back, thinking of my body being anchored through my legs, and keeping structure and intent in my palms. [↑]

This week, the sound from my right headphone started crackling and promptly died. I’ve been listening to my music with only the left channel until I can find a replacement pair.

This has led to the unfortunate discovery that when singing to yourself at a certain volume, OTHER PEOPLE CAN STILL HEAR YOU.

Usually I don’t post this many pictures of one shoot of a single person because there’s often a lot of redundancy, but Paige has a thousand expressions that must be captured and shown to the world.

There’s a complexity in her face that betrays the layers and layers of her character. By turns ebullient, hopeful, playful, and uncertain — every frame is different. I feel like I could write an essay on her look alone.

Best viewed on large and on black, of course, so click the pictures. Commentary at full size.

Sometimes, when I pee, I shudder a little bit. Not only that, but a sound may escape me. The only way I can describe it is a soft, trembling, exclamation.

Sometimes, this happens at a public bathroom.

Sometimes, there happens to be someone standing next to me, also peeing.

Sometimes, I get funny looks.

I’m just coming off a moderate cold I’ve had for the last week. All the classic symptoms — runny, stuffy nose, congestion, slight headache, yellow phlegm — but oddly enough, barely a hint sore throat. It’s been unpleasant to say the least.

A little while ago, Tiana wrote “I look in the bowl after to see how impressive it was. I’m pretty sure you do too”.

This cold has made me realize that I not only look in the bowl (I’m sure Freud would diagnose us as being fixated in the anal stage of psychosexual development), but I open my Kleenex after blowing in it as well, to check for discoloured mucus, phlegm, blood, or bits of brain that may have escaped through my nose.