Part of my duties as NYR Cabin Bitch was to wake up Gray at 7:45am Thursday for morning Tai Chi. I had met the class instructor while signing in Wednesday afternoon. He mentioned his class, something he was doing just if anyone was interested. I passed the info on to Gray, who liked the idea and requested my presense to get him to it each morning.
(Due to unforseen circumstances, Thursday proved to be my only appearence in the class.)
Being eager and ever wanting to never be late, I arrived outside Gray’s cabin at 7:30am. Sitting in a camp chair, I settled down, waiting til the specififed time to wake him. Not ten seconds after my rear relaxed into the seat, the cabin door opened.
“That’s my nature.”
Before he was ready to head down to the class, Gray said he needed fifteen minutes for meditation, and instructed me to let him know when his time was up. He sat, cross legged, wearing just his black tied pants, and looked out onto the campus with a grounded, yet distant, gaze.
I sat in my chair, as quiet as a church mouse, not wanting to disturb him. Knowing myself, I found a way to distract my attention before something to distrupt him occurred (a tickle in the back of the throat, an itch in an inopportune place, a dry cough).
Having my iPhone handy, I pulled up Words With Friends and began playing. This served the dual purpose of keeping me as still as possible, while also waking up my brain. I was still quite sleepy, but the mental challenge helped.
At 7:48, I informed him it had been fifteen minutes. He stood and we headed down to the class. Held on the amphitheatre stage, I kicked off my flip flops, opting to move barefooted on the wet wooden floor. The instructor walked through the entire sequence of steps, to be taught over the course of the event, before starting in with the first set of movements.
As he taught, he talked, a lot. He explained each step thoroughly: how and where to shift your weight, arm movements and placement, our feet and their angles with each motion, and the constant feeling we should have in our minds of moving as if we were standing in water.
As he instructed, and I caught on to his steps, I became antsy, almost frustrated. I wanted him to go faster, to show more. I wanted to speed through because the entire sequence seemed long and I wanted to learn all of it by the end of Rope Camp.
It was about two-thirds of the way into the class when I realized, Stop. Breathe. Feel and move.
Much like on the porch, this lesson was a time for stillness. It took my fast-paced brain the better part of the class to realize this. Once I understood, I slowed, letting myself sink into the moment, the movements, and the presense of my body. Everything became intricate, slow, focused. And, for a little while, I found my stillness.
Categorised as: RCM
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