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It’s been three years since I learned the rudiments 1 of the Tai-Chi “forms，” as they’re called. Slow-motion kung fu—that’s probably the best way to describe what Tai-Chi looks like. But it’s not primarily a martial art. It’s a series of continuously shifting stances2 which the mass and energy of the body flow through with serene slow-motion grace.
Tai-Chi is better than yoga because yoga is a series of static forms， the isometrics3 of energy exercises， while Tai-Chi is constant movement and flow. It offers the experience of moving muscular grace rather than the mere statuelike “correct postures” of yoga. I know yoga addicts will howl at4 this， but it’s true. Tai-Chi will give the spinal column， joints and ligaments5 the same limberness6 and resilience7 as yoga but without all that cross-legged sitting around.
In addition yoga sessions tend to leave you so relaxed and blissed out8 that you’re ready for a nap， while Tai-Chi relaxes and energizes—it’s more of an upper9 than a downer10 among Eastern exercises.
Tai-Chi offers you more than weight lifting. It builds the strength and resilience of the muscles from the inside out rather than just piling lumps of tissue on top. Tai-Chi in a way is like lifting weights internally—it strengthens the body by lifting and shifting one’s own weight. And it shifts more than weight; it moves harmonizing energy through your body in the way the stressful straining of weight lifting will not. This energy the Chinese call chi， and instead of “pumping iron，” Tai-Chi has the effect of systematically pumping chi throughout the body.
Tai-Chi offers more than the specifically therapeutic “bioenergetic” type exercises11 that have become popular in various forms of the human-potential movement， although some of those are based on Tai-Chi principles of centering and activating growth energy. Tai-Chi acts more subtly on the whole body rather than attacking specific physical and emotional complexes with the often dramatic， tearful and painful results of bioenergetics and rolfing12.
The only problem with recommending Tai-Chi so highly—also a problem with writing about it—is that you can’t learn it from a book， you can’t really describe it in words—you have to see it in action. You have to learn it from a live teacher and not from stop-action still photographs of the exotically named “forms.” Because it’s the movement from one form to another， the motion rather than the postures， that is the essence of the exercise. There are several different schools or styles of Tai-Chi， but the important thing is not the denomination13 of your Tai-Chi teacher but whether he’s able to communicate the feeling of what you’re looking for.
You need an inspiring teacher because the learning can seem strange and mechanical at first， and it takes a while before the grace emerges in your own movements. At first it’s hard to remember all the steps and hand movements that you have to make for the transition. The connections seem arbitrary.
But if you practice it daily， slowly step by step， eventually the movements begin to lose their formal mechanistic quality. They seem to have a flowing liquid muscular logic to them; each one grows out of the other. Each becomes inevitable， satisfying， graceful， just. Your mind becomes more absorbed by the movements and they seem to propel themselves as you fill and empty one form after another.
It’s hard to explain the purpose of the slow-motion movement through the exotic forms but an oceanic metaphor helps.
If you imagine rows of ocean waves rolling toward a shore， think of the body as the mass rolling its liquid weight through the rising and falling wave forms of the Tai-Chi movements. Indeed there is something oceanic about the deeply satisfying rhythms of Tai-Chi movement. People who meditate and are used to achieving the experience by keeping the body still and rising up through the mind will be pleasantly surprised by the way Tai-Chi allows the body to become the ground of meditation， the site of transcendence14 rather than something to be escaped from. People familiar with Taoism will discover that Tai-Chi incarnates15 Taoist principles in the flesh， that it is a way to the consciousness described in the Tao Te Ching of Laotze. Yoga students will be amazed that the prana16， or life energy， can be evoked and propelled throughout the body by the exercises.
Tai-Chi communicates a sense of purposefulness to the other areas of life， a sense of the way to gather energy， concentrate， direct and fulfill it in movement.
Tai-Chi can take the jangling17 discordant mental electricity of nervous energy， anxiety and stress and channel it through the passageways of the body， transmuting18 it into harmonious and useful energy.
It can center you， get you back in touch with your body， gradually break up neurotic character armorings and all those things bioenergetic therapies focus on. It’s better than Valium19 for tension and works more quickly.
Tai-Chi is better than yoga because yoga is a series of static forms， the isometrics3 of energy exercises， while Tai-Chi is constant movement and flow. It offers the experience of moving muscular grace rather than the mere statuelike “correct postures” of yoga. I know yoga addicts will howl at4 this， but it’s true. Tai-Chi will give the spinal column， joints and ligaments5 the same limberness6 and resilience7 as yoga but without all that cross-legged sitting around.
In addition yoga sessions tend to leave you so relaxed and blissed out8 that you’re ready for a nap， while Tai-Chi relaxes and energizes—it’s more of an upper9 than a downer10 among Eastern exercises.
Tai-Chi offers you more than weight lifting. It builds the strength and resilience of the muscles from the inside out rather than just piling lumps of tissue on top. Tai-Chi in a way is like lifting weights internally—it strengthens the body by lifting and shifting one’s own weight. And it shifts more than weight; it moves harmonizing energy through your body in the way the stressful straining of weight lifting will not. This energy the Chinese call chi， and instead of “pumping iron，” Tai-Chi has the effect of systematically pumping chi throughout the body.
Tai-Chi offers more than the specifically therapeutic “bioenergetic” type exercises11 that have become popular in various forms of the human-potential movement， although some of those are based on Tai-Chi principles of centering and activating growth energy. Tai-Chi acts more subtly on the whole body rather than attacking specific physical and emotional complexes with the often dramatic， tearful and painful results of bioenergetics and rolfing12.
The only problem with recommending Tai-Chi so highly—also a problem with writing about it—is that you can’t learn it from a book， you can’t really describe it in words—you have to see it in action. You have to learn it from a live teacher and not from stop-action still photographs of the exotically named “forms.” Because it’s the movement from one form to another， the motion rather than the postures， that is the essence of the exercise. There are several different schools or styles of Tai-Chi， but the important thing is not the denomination13 of your Tai-Chi teacher but whether he’s able to communicate the feeling of what you’re looking for.
You need an inspiring teacher because the learning can seem strange and mechanical at first， and it takes a while before the grace emerges in your own movements. At first it’s hard to remember all the steps and hand movements that you have to make for the transition. The connections seem arbitrary.
But if you practice it daily， slowly step by step， eventually the movements begin to lose their formal mechanistic quality. They seem to have a flowing liquid muscular logic to them; each one grows out of the other. Each becomes inevitable， satisfying， graceful， just. Your mind becomes more absorbed by the movements and they seem to propel themselves as you fill and empty one form after another.
It’s hard to explain the purpose of the slow-motion movement through the exotic forms but an oceanic metaphor helps.
If you imagine rows of ocean waves rolling toward a shore， think of the body as the mass rolling its liquid weight through the rising and falling wave forms of the Tai-Chi movements. Indeed there is something oceanic about the deeply satisfying rhythms of Tai-Chi movement. People who meditate and are used to achieving the experience by keeping the body still and rising up through the mind will be pleasantly surprised by the way Tai-Chi allows the body to become the ground of meditation， the site of transcendence14 rather than something to be escaped from. People familiar with Taoism will discover that Tai-Chi incarnates15 Taoist principles in the flesh， that it is a way to the consciousness described in the Tao Te Ching of Laotze. Yoga students will be amazed that the prana16， or life energy， can be evoked and propelled throughout the body by the exercises.
Tai-Chi communicates a sense of purposefulness to the other areas of life， a sense of the way to gather energy， concentrate， direct and fulfill it in movement.
Tai-Chi can take the jangling17 discordant mental electricity of nervous energy， anxiety and stress and channel it through the passageways of the body， transmuting18 it into harmonious and useful energy.
It can center you， get you back in touch with your body， gradually break up neurotic character armorings and all those things bioenergetic therapies focus on. It’s better than Valium19 for tension and works more quickly.