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happiness health meditation social media T'ai chi

Thanks, Jane E. Brody, for words on T’ai chi

Gracia Lam Tai chi image from New York Times merlin_143261946_7f1abdc4-6414-4a71-af29-544c1316344e-jumbo

Just a quick note of thanks to New York Times writer Jane E. Brody for today’s article in support of T’ai chi; and to artist Gracia Lam for this lovely image of T’ai chi practitioners lining up behind a crane, symbol of longevity.  As many of the commentators of the on-line NYT forum have noted, Jane E. Brody underestimates the amount of effort it takes to practice T’ai chi correctly, that is, slowly and with great precision of movement.  If done correctly, T’ai chi will certainly make you break out in a sweat! But it is gratifying to see this influential writer in the Science section take a break from Western medicine and its reliance on pharmaceuticals for a change, and give Asian practices some attention.

I am now entering my third month as a T’ai chi student at the Seattle Kung Fu Club, and I feel incredibly lucky to have found this place and the teachers who work there. The family atmosphere and reverence we all feel for Sifu John Leong make the Seattle Kung Fu Club a unique atmosphere to practice this ancient life-giving art form. But I will always hold a warm spot in my heart for Master Peng also; he is the one who introduced me to T’ai chi at Notre Dame during his sabbatical there in 2016-17.

Having a teacher is crucial. For those of you who lack a teacher nearby, you could start by following the nine videos of our classes with Master Peng which begin here, and reading some of the books I’ve listed on this blog’s bibliography (Ralston’s Principles of Effortless Power, for starters).  Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?!  Or reinvent yourself after 50?!  Be brave folks, and dare to feel good.  What do you have to lose?

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creativity happiness health humor social media T'ai chi

In today’s New York Times!

Hello readers,

Imagine my surprise to open the New York Times magazine and see a letter I wrote in response to the funny article on housework by Helen Holmes called “Mess.” Read it and laugh!  I love the other letter to the editor published right below mine, especially the last line about “unsanitary lives”–uh, when would that begin? Maybe at birth?!

 

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children conflict creativity T'ai chi wisdom

avoiding eye contact for mental health and energy

MonaLIsa.jpg

This title sounds strange, yes. But I was moved to write in defense of deference by two things: 1) my recent experience doing T’ai chi at the Seattle Kung Fu Club; and 2) an article in the New York Times, “How to Meet Autistic People Halfway”.

It has been a dream come true to discover the Seattle Kung Fu Club and to become a student of Sifu John S.S. Leong and Sijeh Paula.* The exercises are rigorous and hard; it is not really fun, let alone for 90 minutes. But in that room, surrounded by symbols telling the history of the art and a great sense of human dignity and discipline, you are inspired. Paradoxically, it is a place bursting with concentration where it is very difficult to concentrate. People on the Kung Fu side of the studio are loud, dramatic, and fascinating! People on the T’ai chi side of the studio are practically silent, but they move around in fluid and overlapping ways. You have to remain aware of what is going on so you don’t get in the way.

During these times, I think always of the Zen saying, “Just Don’t Wobble!” But it is hard, and avoiding eye contact is imperative for me, so I don’t wobble and fall down off the one leg where I’m standing with knee outstretched,  or tip over from a stretched-out stance near the floor. When I read yesterday’s article which explains how autistic people use similar avoidance strategies, a faint insight emerged.

People engaged in the intense mental effort of T’ai chi, which requires extremely precise actions executed slowly, are accustomed to avoid eye contact with each other. I guess the eyes are too powerful a force of …   what exactly? Energy? emotion? intention? impenetrability? All I know is that looking into someone’s eyes can make you lose your balance and wobble. No need to apologize. We just don’t do it.

Similarly, perhaps, autistic people must work really hard to stay focused and mentally balanced. It is curious to learn how they articulate and express the reasons why they avoid other people’s eyes. In the New York Times article, psychologists Vikram K. Jaswal and Nameera Akhtar write, “Take eye contact. Some autistic people say they find sustained eye contact uncomfortable or even painful. Others report that it’s hard to concentrate on what someone is saying while simultaneously looking at them. In other words, not looking someone in the eye may indicate that an autistic person is trying very hard to participate in the conversation at hand. Unfortunately, this attempt to engage often gets interpreted as a lack of interest.”**

Martial artist Peter Ralston explains the psycho-physical dynamic going on in eye contact avoidance. For him, as a proponent of the inner arts, an inner focus is the key way to remain aligned with your center, grounded in the present. Since we are constantly in situation, we need to be flexible to sustain unity. “Keep a balance of awareness on all sides. Whenever we focus a lot of energy outward (energy extension), that flow should be balanced by centering and grounding our feeling-attention.”***

Along with Susan Cain’s feisty defense of introversion, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking, which was a revelation and continues to be a source of sustenance to my gentle spirit, the work of Vikram K. Jaswal and Nameera Akhtar seems intriguing and worth pursuing too. We are all on a spectrum of some kind, as regards our social preferences and patterns of behavior. The more we realize and respect people whose ways of being are different from our own, the more peaceful our lives will become.

*Honorary terms for Teacher and Senior Student Teacher; on terms in T’ai chi, http://www.authentickungfu.com/seven_star/explanations.html

**Vikram K. Jaswal and Nameera Akhtar, “Opinion: How to Meet Autistic People Halfway,” New York Times July 13, 2018.

***Peter Ralston, Cheng Hsin: The Principles of Effortless Power, 97.

 

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Chinese literature dogs happiness health nature T'ai chi travel trees

Road trip day five and beyond: in our new home at last

Hi everybody,

Sorry to leave you up in the air like that, on the road trip! The fifth day began in Moses Lake–a vast and wind-swept desert setting. It was fun to see the sign for George, WA–I had not thought of that town since my days at WSU–and like every other tourist I could not resist:

 

 

As we spiraled down into the Columbia Gorge, signs finally started listing Seattle–what a thrill to the traveling trio, five days away from South Bend!

Seattle is on the sign.jpg

Snoqualmie Pass is beautifully mysterious, with its sudden waterfalls and misty views:

 

I drove for the last leg, with tears of joy as I realized that our dream had come true: we are home at last!  Honey Girl likes it here too.

 

That enormous moving truck made its way down our tiny street (a dead end) the very next morning. It was truly an engineering miracle to see him get that rig into the street, and to back it up all the way out. Hats off to Daniel, the North American Van Lines driver, who navigated the whole move like a true pro and is a nice guy too.

Here comes that huge moving van July 3 2018.jpg

I made a bee-line to the Seattle Kung Fu Club as soon as I could and I’m grateful to now be among the T’ai chi students of Grandmaster John S.S. Leong and his staff. (So far, I’ve been relegated to doing long arduous stretches for the duration of the 1 1/2 hour classes, but I look forward to learning the Wu Form in due course). It is wonderful to look into the eyes of people at the Seattle Kung Fu Club–they all look so vital, healthy, and alert.

Seattle Kung Fu Club

To go there, I walk down a dizzying street from our house on the top of a hill to Seacrest Park at sea level and take the water taxi 15 minutes to Pier 52 in downtown Seattle. Then I walk through Pioneer Square and beyond the eclectic mix of upscale art galleries and fancy restaurants alongside homeless missions and the people who gather nearby, to a tiny building in old Chinatown. It is a minuscule second-floor studio with an enigmatic grandmaster who inspires reverence among all of us sweaty people–just perfect. What a feast of sensations!  the dazzling water and lively boat traffic to see, the smell of diesel, the sound of the waves and the rumbling engine, then the strangely relaxing and familial smell of sweat and body warmth… it is just what all the “mindfulness” books suggest leads to wellbeing.  Check out the pics of the commute below. That long grey ship seems to be sending us a message to persevere in the inner arts and to stay strong with exercise… The pagoda-like entrance to King Street and the dragon mural at Hing Hay park delight the eyes and bring a smile to the spirit, every time:

 

 

I’m in heaven. With both brothers (and fabulous sisters-in-law) nearby, nieces, nephews, and one out of two sons close to home, family is finally near at hand. Yet there is much I do not know. Who knows what lies on the other side of that doorway in our backyard?

Threshold in back yard.jpg

Maybe it beckons to inner space: leading into the Space of Now. As philosopher Eckhart Tolle famously wrote, “you may be surprised that by becoming aware of the space of Now, you suddenly feel more alive inside. You are feeling the aliveness of the inner body–the aliveness that is an intrinsic part of the joy of Being.” (A New Earth, 252).

Thanks for joining me on this journey. There really was a rainbow waiting on the other side!

Rainbow on July 6 2018 with Nick's visit.jpg

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art Chinese literature conflict creativity design nature T'ai chi Zen philosophy

June 21 Solstice arrival: So many thoughts on the Night pillow… and the move!

Stars.jpg

I’ve been so enjoying the exciting build-up to our move; I’ve been looking forward to this event for almost three years! It does however deliver a very intense impact to the nerves when many things suddenly come to a head: in the last six months, I’ve retired early from a career I rocked at, sold and packed up a house I adore, abandoned tons and tons of books and notes from that job, and made plans to create a new life in a city I haven’t lived in for 34 years. Oh, and I launched a new business too. Phew.

Nick's empty room.jpg

It makes the stillness and silence of this house feel quite precious. Doing T’ai chi in Nick’s old room is now very flowing. Readers of The Tao of Painting will not be surprised by that. Mai Mai Sze explains that “Silence and emptiness of space possess vast powers of suggestion, stimulating the imagination and sharpening perception. And only through exercise of these highest faculties can the Tao be apprehended and expressed.”*

The emptiness and silence of the house when I’m sewing is filled with my happy thoughts and wonders about the life to come. I’ve barely even been in that Seattle house, apart from one day at closing and a one-day walkthrough each summer. In creating, one can only focus on present thoughts, so I’m channeling all that wonder and joy as a feeling into my new Night designs for Tranquility Pillows.** Sewing extremely detailed work like this is a profoundly engrossing activity: perfect for training the “wild horses” of your mind and keeping them in harness.

There’s another reason why I’ve been feeling immensely creative and inspired lately: Because I don’t have much more time! It’s an old habit of being a student for so long—we always procrastinate. We think we work better under pressure. And actually, we often do.

It is interesting to realize that even when we retire from a job, as an entrepreneur we can still create that same thrill of discovery. You can force yourself to jump forward conceptually under pressure. Only now I’m doing it for my own fun (and potential profit), in hastening to create prototypes for two new pillows: the Baudelaire “Giantess” pillow and the Tranquility Night pillow (with the new “Freak Out” Star for suicide prevention). I’m working with my hands in satin, cotton, and flannel, instead of working only with my Mind. This new life is thus a genre-change as well as a new way to relate to people through literature, and an effort to forge an art of my own making. Oh, and there’s that moving over 2,000 miles. That’s all.

Maybe all these crazy-making details are why I’m so drawn to the spare, evocative simplicity of Chinese aesthetics and the abstract thinking of Zen. I love Chinese Calligraphy and the way Chiang Yee describes his work:

“One of my incentives in writing this book is to help such people [ie Westerners] to an enjoyment of our calligraphy without putting them to the labour of learning the language. If the student can understand the literal meaning of the words, so much the better: for an aesthetic appreciation it is not essential. You will understand my meaning if you think of a landscape painting in which the familiar forms of scenery of your native land touch a chord of memory. You have a different and more pleasurable sensation from such a picture than from a painting of an unfamiliar scene. But I do feel that, without this sense of recognition, it is possible, provided one has a sense of line-movement […] to appreciate the beauty of lines.”***

The beauty of lines and the sense of line-movement: so obvious yet overlooked!

My own thinking led to the question of how to create the right shape of star for my new Tranquility Pillow Night design. There are so many star styles to choose from, but after a bit of reflection, it was obvious: Le Petit prince. Le Petit prince has the best stars: being handmade and imperfect, they project a winsome air. (See last blog post for a few cute examples)

So I got a pic of that up on my screen. Then I went hunting around for a piece of cardboard to write on. Since we’re moving in one week, everything’s a mess and there are no tablets to be found. Finally I looked in a wastebasket and found a file folder from the Hesburgh Library reserves department from years ago, for a photocopied chapter of Mlle de Scudéry’s Clélie, a long slog of a novel from 1654. (I know I know! I was crazy to inflict such torture on my students, for which I apologize.)

At the sight of the stamp “2hrs. Library Use Only” under my name, I felt a surge of tenderness. For those nameless, long-ago students and for all students. As I drew my version of Saint-Exupéry’s star, I tried to make the line-movement convey a sense of hopeful yearning, a reaching forward.

Moon and star

Lesson of the day:

it is amazing what you can do with a simple shape, if you focus on intention.

Question: but can you use intention to make a prickly situation less prickly?

Short answer: I am trying to do so.

Long answer: you may be wondering how or if I’m going to keep up the rigorous morning routine during the five days it will take us to drive across the country. La chance ça se prépare (Luck is planned). I’ve already announced to my dearly beloved that we will not hit the road until 10am each morning. He will sigh, and grumble, and pace around impatiently, but he is a man of his word. That gives me time to get up punctually, have my coffee and fruit, and then find a quiet spot somewhere in the motel or outside to bring my laptop and do T’ai chi along with the video of Master Peng, like I do every day. I may draw some strange looks!

It is crucial to continue this routine when spending the other 12+ hours of each day alone (apart from Honey Girl) in a car with the same person you’ve been married to for 32 years, whose lack of self-trust and aggressive ways frequently grate on your nerves, although he means well. Honey Girl and me will keep him calm somehow, or block him out. 🙂

*Mai-Mai Sze, The Tao of Painting, 96.

**Walter Benjamin, Illuminations, 220.

***Chiang Yee, Chinese Calligraphy, 3.

The new styles coming to life!

Zen message of the Night pillow: “Even when we enter disturbed waters, we can still align with the moon, until such time when we can see it directly.”

  1. Tranquility Pillow-Night design no. 1, shows the satin moon’s reflection on a sea of navy flannel.Night pillow no 1 June 21 2018
  2. Tranquility Pillow Night design no. 2, features lines of grey, black, and white satin and navy rayon, on a navy flannel sea below a white satin moon.

Night pillow no 2 June 21 2018

Categories
Chinese literature conflict creativity death happiness health T'ai chi Zen philosophy

The incredible lightness of inefficiency!

Happiness of the fish by Chiang Yee

The Happiness of the Fish by Chiang Yee

While emptying an attic closet yesterday—the same one where we found our dead cat Iris back in March—I discovered another box of books on Chinese philosophy, culture, and art that my husband acquired over the years. He has drifted away from the study, but I now find such stuff mesmerizing! It helps explain the pull, influence, and joy I’ve discovered in T’ai chi and good health.

Now that there are only 26 more days until we leave, life seems very peaceful. You may think we are working round the clock to get ready. Wrong! We do whatever we want.

My morning routine is sacred, of course, then I spend a few hours packing, then a few hours sewing, an hour with Honey Girl in our evening walk, a couple hours watching a  favorite series (right now it’s Babylon Berlin, after we watched all of the wonderful How to Get Away with Murder).  Later at night, I enjoy reading the poetry of Yuan Chi, philosophy by Gaston Bachelard and Joseph Campbell, Gish Jen’s Girl at the Baggage Claim, and Subhadramati’s Not About Being Good, among other books. Piles of books line the rooms. That does not bother us a bit. They’re like friends, ready to offer an encouraging thought or insight, as we navigate this time of change.

Late at night, sometimes I just sit in the sunroom with a window ajar, listening to the night and gazing upon the tree-fringed dark sky. Terribly inefficient! Or terribly wise?

Yesterday was June first! So exciting to turn the page on our last month before the move! Yet instead of launching into a frenzy of work or anxiety about moving, I spent hours poring over Chinese Calligraphy by Chiang Yee (1938) and Change by Hellmut Wilhelm (1960). I love how Chinese philosophy makes no sense, at first, until it does…

Try this mental exercise. First consider the concepts of liveliness, constancy and change, in the quotes below (and the gorgeous image above). Then read the description of how energy manifests itself in T’ai chi practice at the bottom. If you are able to resist the urge to do T’ai chi after all that, I’d be surprised!  Is not T’ai chi an incredible gift to humankind?

 On Liveliness

In Chinese calligraphy, says Mr. Chiang, the main principle of composition is in every case a balance and poise similar to that of a figure standing, walking, dancing, or executing some other lively movement. [Lively movement as seen in The Happiness of the Fish, above, Plate XXI of Chinese Calligraphy.]

‘The beauty of Chinese calligraphy is essentially the beauty of plastic movement, not of designed and motionless shape.’

How such ‘lively movement’ is conveyed by a written character, or by a painting or a piece of sculpture or pottery, is a mystery that we cannot analyse—it is an instinctive coordination of the artist’s mental image and the muscular stroke with which he ‘expresses’ or ‘projects’ that image. It is, at any rate, a very personal faculty, achieved by continuous practice and meditation, by a discipline that is spiritual rather than physical.

-“Foreword” by Sir Herbert Read, in Chiang Yee, Chinese Calligraphy, viii.

On Constancy and Change

Change: that is the unchangeable.

The opposite of change is regression, not cessation of movement.  Change, then, is not simply movement as such, for its opposite is also movement. Change is natural movement rather, development that can only reverse itself by going against nature.

To recognize that man moves and acts, that he grows and develops, this is not deep insight, but to know that this movement and development … are governed by the law of change, from which there is no escape, this has fostered in early Chinese philosophy its gratifying integrity and lucidity.

Change is at work in the great as well as in the small … it can be read in cosmic happenings as well as in the hearts of men. The individual who is conscious of responsibility is on a par with the cosmic forces of heaven and earth.

Since every seed attains development in change, it must also be possible to introduce into its flow a seed planted by man. And since knowledge of the laws of change teaches the right way of planting such a seed, a highly effective influence becomes possible. … the closer to the time of planting, the stronger the influence. To recognize the moment of its germination is to become the master of the fate of the seed.

The Creative knows through the easy.

The Receptive can do things through the simple.

The stability of change is the counterpart of the human virtue of reliability. One can grasp it, hold on to it, count upon it.

To become aware of what is constant in the flux of nature and life is the first step in abstract thinking.  … Similarly the conception of constancy in change provides the first guarantee of meaningful action.

-Hellmut Wilhelm, Change, 17-23.

On T’ai chi, our daily way to feel calm in the face of death and change

Internal energy is much more powerful than muscle power. Muscle tension impedes the flow of internal energy. While a certain minimum of tension must be used in movement and in holding up the body, any further tension interferes with the greater power of chi.

When faced with a conflict, you know not to meet it head on. Never interfere with your partner’s momentum (whether physical or emotional); let it flow by you or rechannel it. The world you perceive is a reflection of your inner state.

The T’ai chi student begins to understand the role of cycles in nature. The biological feelings of your connection to the environment become stronger than your feeling of isolation. … By identifying with biological life, you become immortal.  … Death is no longer a threat; its force has been neutralized. As part of life, you will never die—only change.

-Bob Klein, Movements of Magic, 53-56.

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Chinese literature conflict creativity death French literature humor loss meditation memory T'ai chi wisdom Zen philosophy

Ripping off the Bandaid, or must moving become existential turmoil? Remember the worry-wort centipede!

b96028bcbc4bdb7ad68f18c15fb5d620 centipede

Now that it is only four weeks til D-day, I have felt touches of that sickness known as nostalgia. It starts with a slight taste of nausea that spreads to the temples with dread and then cloaks the whole body in heavy, dank sadness. I know it well, having lost my mom just three years ago and my dad in 2008.

I hate nostalgia! I hate thinking about the past, wallowing in sorrow for babies grown, marriages sealed, friendships ended. I hate thinking all the time. The Mind, it was revealed to me during the past 18 months since I discovered meditation and T’ai chi, is not necessarily a friend. It does not naturally have any compassion for you. It can attack you, remind you of weakness, and torture you all day long if you let it. Moving your household is an activity that gives Mind free rein, because when you must spend several hours a day poring through cupboards, drawers, and shelves, choosing and tossing vestiges of the past, Mind creeps in easily and emotional turmoil may ensue, believe me.

The conflicting emotions whipped up by the storm yesterday have subsided to mental nagging today. As Peter Ralston points out, “We have a tendency to get caught up in things that don’t serve being ‘in’ or being responsive to the present moment and condition—we become enmeshed in figuring out, being anxious, upset, angry, fearful, reactive and so on.”

His solution is a brilliant series of mind experiments and exercises designed to unify the physical core and the Mind. It does work if you remain calm. Being calm for me requires preparation: doing T’ai chi daily, concentrating on even breathing, and holding a correct spinal alignment at all times. As Ralston writes, “Instead of trying to make those things disappear, we can simply let them be, not feed them energy and attention, and let them float in the base we now call being calm” (Principles of Essential Power, 6). But when you suddenly rediscover a handknit baby blanket, a cute old photo of your kid (whose present self isn’t quite so cute or unproblematic), or even a yellowed bank statement, emotions are prone to fill the idle Mind.

Better to channel that emotional richness into creativity, as Bob Klein, Twyla Tharp and so many other sages have advised. Therein lies our life’s purpose. Creativity for me is writing (a little) and especially sewing. Sewing is a bond to the past and a disciplined way to beautify the present and make people happier, if only for a few minutes now and then. My intentions are kindly, the results are heart-warming, and that is enough for me.

But our world does not promote such simplicity, and it never has, as long as humans live in community and compare our fate to that of others. Faced with our own mortality and limitations, we humans can easily become off-balanced and fall into existential turmoil. French literature testifies to this fact all the time: just think of Victor Hugo’s poem, “The Slope of Reverie,” Jean-Paul Sartre’s works Being and Nothingness or Nausea, and Beckett’s entire absurdly depressing oeuvre.

Why is that? Because most people in the West are dominated by a tyrant named Mind or conscious logical socially-conditioned thought patterns. Mind tries (and often succeeds) to convince us that only Mind can keep us together.  Only worrying holds us upright, gets us out of bed and off to work. Only other people’s opinions of us count. If we stop worrying and trying to measure up to external standards, we will fall apart and turn into mush. That is a powerful lie. But each must realize it in his own time.

Remember the tragic fate of the worry-wort centipede!

The centipede was happy, quite,

Until a toad in fun

Said, “Pray, which leg goes after which?”

This worked his mind to such a pitch,

He lay distracted in a ditch,

Considering how to run.

 

–reproduced in Watts, The Way of Zen, p. 27

 

image reproduced courtesy of Kaneki and a Centipede Plush ||| Tokyo Ghoul Fan Art by verticalforklift on Tumblr

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conflict dogs storms T'ai chi wisdom

Day Ten: the brewing storm

ThinkstockPhotos-175009629MD.jpg29 days to go and the skies are churning. A storm is coming to South Bend this afternoon, they say, and I am looking forward to it. A storm breaks the tension, gives us a common enemy, and may even accelerate other life-giving events. 27 years ago in July, some thunderbolts gathered over Tempe, AZ, and may have hastened the birth of my son. Or so they told me at the hospital, when I  arrived…

The storm at home is as prickly as the heat today. Why? No big reason but several small ones. My partner is manifesting some old habits of passive-aggressive hostility, now that he’s being forced into concrete action and decision-making after many years of retirement. Honey Girl pounced and killed a small ground hog yesterday on our walk. I have felt and voiced unkind thoughts toward a number of people, mostly elected officials but still…

What to do?

What is there ever to do?

Practice the Morning Routine. Refrain from harmful speech. Bury the little grey critter, if it is still there.

Rejoice in the rain when it arrives!

***

 

Storm image courtesy of http://blog.gpcom.com/tag/severe-weather/

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death French literature nature T'ai chi wisdom

Letting go: on moving, death and the untidy garden

One of the poignant things about moving is letting go of things we once held dear. I’ve been abandoning books right and left (to the bins managed by Better World Books, but still…). Rich has abandoned his garden, once a crowning achievement which fed our family for weeks in the summer. Gazing out on the garden this morning while meditating, I savored its lovely untidiness, which brought up the connection to one of my favorite quotes of all time, by the French Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne.

Thought of the day: Letting go is healthy and delightful (even if it feels wrenching at times).

***

Portrait_of_Michel_de_Montaigne,_circa_unknown

“I want death to find me in the garden planting cabbages, but not afraid of her, and even less of my imperfect garden.”

“Je veux que la mort me trouve plantant mes choux, mais nonchalant d’elle, et encore plus de mon jardin imparfait.”

Michel de Montaigne, Essais, 1580

***

Imperfection and letting go are key concepts in Zen philosophy as they are in T’ai chi. As Bob Klein writes, “Many people are drawn to T’ai-chi-Ch’uan because it enables them to let go of their tensions permanently. Without tension, anxiety and worry, life is a lot more enjoyable. … to release this tension, you must go through the nervous system, for it is a nerve, constantly sending its signal to a muscle, which causes that muscle to tense. You are making yourself tense. Tension, therefore, is not released by doing something extra, but by letting go of something you are already doing.”  (Movements of Magic, 16)

***

Did Montaigne know of Zen philosophy?! Or perhaps the Stoics before him? sure seems like there is a connection between East and West deep down …

At any rate, Bon dimanche!

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French literature friendship happiness health T'ai chi wisdom

Day Six: follow-up on day five, or what do Gaston Bachelard and Jeanette Lawrence have in common?

After finishing the morning routine yesterday, despite my sense of overwhelm, I came away refreshed and with two resolutions: 1. Buy Gaston Bachelard, Poetics of Space. 2. Send a card and check to niece, Kelsey Julia, on birth of her baby Jeanette. Look forward to getting to know the little girl and watching her grow up!

Both of these ideas were stirred up by feelings of affection. Affection for Bachelard (1884-1962), who was a post-master in a small town in France before becoming a celebrated philosopher of space. I discovered him and his body of work as a graduate student in French literature. In retrospect, he is one of the most important thinkers I enjoyed reading. With the accent on enjoyed!

I want to reread his famous book and, knowing that I’m leaving behind a nice research library at Notre Dame, I want to build up my personal collection and own it. It may seem stupid to buy books right before you move. It probably is, to some people. But for me, these are moving preparations for the spirit.

Bachelard will help me capture the feelings I have for this house and the new one too. His abstract and companionable voice will be a constant, if I want it to be, during this time of uncertainty. I love his way of describing what one might call the “spirit lives” of rooms, drawers, cupboards, and tiny spaces. This old house on Riverside has many, many places like that to explore and contemplate. It has been a kindly place to live during a tumultuous decade.

(Editorial aside: When we first moved in here, I was in the midst of my exhausting career in the Notre Dame upper administration. I was drawn to the darkest, most protected space in this house. I still remember how relieved I felt when I discovered it:  a large dark, window-less closet with a secret hiding place in it for valuables. Hmmm… I wonder what deep need that met!?!  And what space will feel most protective in the new house? or will that thought even cross the mind? I suspect going home after 34 years away is going to be emotionally interesting…)

If a brief dip into The Poetics of Space is enough, then I will pack it away and rediscover it some rainy afternoon. I certainly won’t regret having it.

The other affection is for my niece and her daughter, my family, closer to whom I’m moving in 34 days. Need I say more?!

That’s what happens when you do T’ai chi–you start to feel a really happy energy, deep within, and then that good feeling  opens onto the world as a whole.

(It sounds crazy, but it’s true.)

Photo of Gaston Bachelard, [1] Dutch National Archives, The Hague, Fotocollectie Algemeen Nederlands Persbureau (ANEFO), 1945-1989 bekijk toegang 2.24.01.04 Bestanddeelnummer 917-9599