(A story follow-up from 2021)
In 2015, I bravely signed up for a Tai Chi class in my new community in Florida. I hadn’t really flexed my muscles in years, and I wasn’t particularly eager to start, either.
But something intrigued me about it. I was once a fan of the television show “The Walking Dead”, and during its sixth season, they aired an episode titled “Here’s Not Here.”
One of the main characters had experienced so much emotional trauma that he wasn’t able to separate a threat from kindness anymore, and he attacked everyone just to be sure. Then, in his travels, he arrived at some type of sanctuary; a peaceful oasis in the middle of the forest. There was just a cabin with a goat grazing out front and a kind man.
It wasn’t pretty at first; the cabin owner had to keep him locked up while the character’s humanity could mend. And a big part of that healing? The kind man eventually introduced the character to Aikido—a Japanese martial art.
They practiced by the river at sunrise. At sunset. While the world raged around them, they were in a sphere of peace. It was so calming to watch and listen to their philosophical conversations. As a commentator said later, “It was like watching a Harold Pinter play.”
The episode stuck with me – the combination of calm and building strength. What were the chances of finding a place near me that taught Aikido? I didn’t know my new city at all. Then, maybe two weeks later, I saw an announcement in our community’s newsletter. Tai Chi was being offered right at our local clubhouse. It wasn’t Aikido, but it was another form of martial arts, and it was an obvious sign.
My instructor’s name was Muhammad. Elements of the class changed weekly; there was no formal lesson plan. On some days, there was more meditation, such as the Three Suns Meditation. With our eyes closed, Muhammad would start with, “Imagine three suns above your head. The first becomes liquid gold and slowly melts down over the front of your head, shoulders, body to the earth, strengthening your connection to it,” and so on. His words were slow, peaceful, hypnotic. It was incredibly relaxing.
On other days, it was all about the form. 24 forms to be exact. Forms are a series of movements that are sequentially linked. They have wonderfully inventive names like “Part the Wild Horse’s Mane”, “Repulse the Monkey” and “Wave Hands like Clouds.”
While doing the movements, he stressed that they should feel like one is moving through water. It did. It helped with both lower and upper-body strength and improving balance.
It wasn’t a cardio workout, but muscles were stretched and my mind found a deep relaxation with the meditation portion; definitely helpful in writing, too. Clear the clutter.
In late 2019, I had to leave the class for cancer treatment. It took me two years to return (although I practiced some at home). I relished the change that had taken place. We were now meeting weekly under an outdoor pavilion. There were water and trees and clouds and birds, and it was a beautiful place to unlock our chi (energy). But sadly, about two years later, my schedule changed, and I had to leave the class again.
Fast forward to the summer of 2025. While on a trip, I was speed walking with some friends to catch a bus, and fell. There were no broken bones, but some pretty nasty scrapes and sore muscles. I soldiered on.
Even after returning home, I figured I just had to keep up with my morning walks and I would heal. And I’m keeping it real here. Some might rightfully wonder why I didn’t consult an orthopedic doctor since the pain (and stiffness) continued.
Well, after all the pre and post appointments to deal with my illness and its endless follow-ups, I did NOT want to add a new regimen of doctors and tests and follow-ups to kick in all over again. I needed, at least, to try to heal on my own.
So, I took a hiatus from walking; my leg muscles needed a true, extended rest. My knee was strained too.
I figured January, the month of renewal, was a good time to resume it. But before that, I had this brilliant idea of performing some tai chi and qigong exercises at home first. I mean, I remember everything. It’s literally muscle memory. And my muscles responded.
“Why didn’t I think of this five months ago?” I wondered.
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” my inner tai chi guide responded. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Hmm, you may have more lessons for me than I realized,” I thought.
And so, I have added walking in the new year to coincide with my daily chi warm-ups inside. And so far, everything is clicking; warming up..and returning.
Even though I left tai chi twice, I am grateful that it never left me. I just relearned “Brush the Knee” which makes me happy. We all need our loyal friends to get us moving sometimes.
Cloud Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com
Leavingthedooropen.com 
Leave a reply to dgkaye Cancel reply