Cloud Hands

I know the Tai Chi form Cloud Hands describes the movement of the sun and moon throughout the cycle of a day; but, lately it has come to take on a new meaning for me.

I started working on the Cloud Hands portion of the Chen form a few weeks back. I had to concentrate on sinking my Qi and not injuring my knee. My arms noticeably grew stronger from slowing down the form and working it over and over to get the footwork figured out. Then, while untangling the dog's long line from the lilac while having a low blood sugar episode, I was reminded that I need to stay grounded and present all the time.  The dog twisted and lunged and I pulled muscles in my arm. It really hurt!

I immediately did some healing qigong; but, the swelling and bruising started anyway. Since I vowed to not let anything dissuade me from my Summer Solstice hide & form at Gold Cord Lake, I decided to continue working on my form and doing the Ba Duan Jin. IT HURT!

It hurt ALOT! But, I did a little every day. Sometimes I did only my right uninjured arm. Sometimes I just did foot work and thought about the arm movements. Then, it dawned on me to visualize moving clouds with my hands instead of water. I focused on soft movements and slowed down as much as I could. It seemed to help. Perhaps I will still be moving clouds up at Gold Cord Lake in a few weeks (or maybe snowflakes since there is still snow there); but, I am back on track and a wiser player by far.

Feeling Moony

moonrise in Alaska from my deck

When I was a teenager, I discovered the poetry of a fellow Minnesotan, Robert Bly. This was before Iron John and his fame as translator of Pablo Naruda. His words touched me. I hauled his books of poetry to our cabin on Big Sandy and always had one tucked in my pack.  Imagine my surprise today when we began the K12 Earth Science lesson on moon phases and it begins with poetry from Robert Bly.

After writing poems all day,
I go off to see the moon in the pines.
Far in the woods I sit down against a pine.
The moon has her porches turned to face the light,
But the deep part of her house is in the darkness.

One of my earliest memories is seeing the moon over my Dad's shoulder as he carried me home to my bed after the store closed. "My moon!" Mother moon was full and extraordinarily close when my Dad was  called home on the shores of Lake Superior. He was born in a twin city, lived his whole life in twin cities, and died in a twin city. Our lives go through phases and sometimes we reflect more light than other times.

I do my Tai Chi in moonbeams - full, crescent, gibbos, and wuji.