The Flowing Path

Laozi, Tao Te Ching, Chapter 11 Thirty spokes share the hub of a wheel; it is the empty center that makes the wheel useful. Clay is shaped into a vessel; it is the empty space within that makes it useful. Doors and windows are cut into walls; it is the empty space that makes the room livable. Therefore, we work with what is, but we use what is not. In other words, the empty space, what appears to be “nothing” is often what makes everything else possible. ⸻ Music. Musi

It doesn’t matter whether you’re teaching the class or walking in for the very first time—whether you’ve been practicing for three weeks or thirty years. In my class, we all begin our practice in exactly the same place: standing quietly, eyes closed, settling into our own breath. Then I say, “Together, let’s inhale… exhale.” There is something profoundly humbling about knowing that experience doesn’t exempt us from the beginning. No amount of skill allows us to bypass the fir

If you’ve been attending my Tai Chi classes for a while, you’re probably familiar with our opening routine. We begin with some breath work and gentle movements to awaken the body, and then a few minutes of standing meditation known as Zhan Zhuang—often translated as standing like a tree. If you’ve practiced it, you already know that this involves standing with arms extended for several minutes, which frequently evokes a reaction from newer practitioners: “Why do we have to ho