The Flowing Path

When we think of Wuji in Tai Chi, we often think of the beginning. An upright stance. A relaxed body. Our arms resting naturally at our sides. Nothing appears to be happening. If you’re not familiar with Tai Chi, this is the posture we assume just prior to beginning our form. Wuji (無極) is often described as “the state before differentiation,” meaning it is without polarity, without a particular direction or expression. Nothing has taken shape, and yet everything is possible.

I thought I would write more while I was in China. Before I left, I imagined quiet evenings in Wudang when I would sit down and put the day into words. But there was simply too much happening. Too much to see, too much to learn, too much to feel. I was living the experience rather than analyzing it. Now I’m home, and the reflection has begun. I’m happy to be here. Truly happy. I came home to a life I love, to people I love, to work that feels meaningful, to all the familiar c

I’ve asked myself an interesting question as I prepare to travel to China: Why go? Not why travel. I love experiencing new places and, like most people who wear many hats, I welcome a break from the day-to-day grind. I mean something more specific. Why travel halfway around the world to study something I can practice--and do practice-- at home? I can experience Tai Chi in Virginia. I can practice Qi Gong and meditate in my own backyard. I can study Chinese philosophy from the

Lately, I’ve been getting the same message from my tai chi practice: Stop trying so hard. Easier said than done! There are movements in my form that feel natural now. I don’t have to think much about them anymore. My body seems to know where it’s going, and one movement simply becomes the next. And then there are the others... The places where I still think too much. Where I anticipate what’s coming. Where I try to put my foot in exactly the right place, turn my waist at exac

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

This week’s Tao on the Go invitation…stop and smell the roses! We’re all familiar with the expression, “Stop and smell the roses." It’s one of those sayings that has become so familiar we rarely take time to consider what it actually means. Recently, I found myself thinking about those words in a different way, and I want to break it down for you. The more I reflected on it, the more I realized the expression assumes two things. First, the phrase doesn’t tell us to go outside

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

I wasn’t looking for a lesson. I wasn’t reading an ancient text or practicing a form. I was simply drifting quietly across a peaceful lake on my paddle board at sunset. A short distance away, I noticed a crane. It had one foot in the lake and one planted on the sandy shore, its slender body nearly blending into the tall grasses surrounding it. It had caught a snake. For several minutes I watched, hardly believing what I was seeing. The crane would strike. The snake would t

For more than 30 years, I’ve been drawn to practices that quiet the mind, cultivate awareness, and nourish the soul. Whether through martial arts, yoga, time in nature, or the study of ancient philosophies, I’ve always felt the call to look inward. And the older I get, the more I find myself seeking not just knowledge, but a way of living in greater harmony with myself and the world around me. Tai Chi has become that path—part movement, part meditation, part mystery. This blo