digital manipulation (ralph murre) of garment embroidery (artist unknown)
Tai Chi
in 4 Movements
by
Jackie Langetieg
I. The Beginning
The
teacher wears black and white,
light
in opposition to dark--the symbol
for
yin and yang. Unknowingly
over
half the group does, too,
I
don’t feel as fat as I dreaded.
The
warm-up is just camouflaged exercise,
but
the sparkling day bribes me to enjoy it.
My
hibernated muscles stretch stubbornly
I’m
awkward--an elephant trying to be a jaguar.
II.
The Form
My
body tries to forget itself
return
to the rhythm of nature.
I
walk heavy, like a bear,
filled
with bear power.
My
chest is a box, my spine a string of pearls
connected
to the universe. I shift my weight
to
the left foot, my right arm lifts on the kiss
of
a breeze--weight
an
anachronism of no weight.
Practice
anything, she says in today’s farewell--
even
if it’s wrong. Next time you’ll have
something
to
correct.
She
didn’t check my form, touch my leg.
Am
I already perfect?
Or
has she deferred to the old bear instead--
left
it to its lost causes.
III. The Practice
I
am in the barefoot dark--I step out cautiously
turning
my right foot, stepping strongly on my left heel
settling
into my balance.
I
loosen my belly’s tension, turn my head,
pulling
it past stiff neck muscles
rigid
prisoners of my clenched jaw.
Just
when foot is firm and body balanced--
the
lean in to the wind thrilling as an untried lover--
a
new direction is demanded.
Practice. I don’t know where my balance
will
meet my movement. Practice.
Start
again in the familiar footfall,
turning,
leaning
out,
feeling
the sweet soul-kiss of new space made mine.
IV. Animal Frolics
Resting
deer, walking deer
press
fall
back
turn
swing
arm--not able to think like a deer
because
I’m watching the teacher.
I
close my eyes and become the deer,
drift
through dark
rest
pull back
listen
for danger
press forward.
The
pond wears its cool scent--
I
walk on small boned hooves toward marsh grass,
ears
up, tongue on the roof of my mouth,
jaw
relaxed.
Each
cool Tai Chi morning
of
these storm-surrounded days remains perfect.
My
garlic and brewers yeast discourage lazy mosquitoes.
Perhaps
another night I’ll become a mosquito,
bite
the deer, take her heart into my own,
and
fly through the woods bending and pawing the earth.
~
first published by The Wisconsin Academy for Science, Arts, and Letters
