It was a foggy morning today when I left the Durham bus station and also in Raleigh at the busy corner of Salisbury and Edenton Streets where the old Capitol building and the dumb Confederate monument sets. The fog had lifted just enough to show it still there, the perch for songbirds and terrible ideas. On a foggy day things feel muted and anticipatory. Something’s going to happen next.
Well, we’re in a cloud is one thing and clouds are there embodiment of change. Clouds in the sky or coming out of your mouth on a cold day are change incarnate, announcing: something different is on the way.
Do wild animals do Tai Chi? is a question I recently posted to the Tai Chi for Health group. Da Wi shared a lengthy post that represented the animals-as-inspiration theme where the practice develops by watching their moves and behaviors. Damn Marino’s response was representing the animals-are-doing-Tai-Chi thinking: Tai Chi is an alignment with nature and wild things, well, have that down pat.
One of the challenges in my Tai Chi practice is to resist anticipation. The visualizing, the positioning, the muscular tension of The Next Move. Responsiveness, a supreme principle, is a coupling of myself and everything else, so complete that the distinction becomes fuzzy. I suspect that animals — and plants for that matter — have that down pat, too.
We attach less meaning to fog than other clouds. In the middle of it, we adopt it’s essential quiet and promise that things will be different soon. Ok with the fuzziness and that most basic of rules: what goes up, must come down.
“I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethoughts of grief” from The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry