The Flowing Path

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

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

From a distance, Queen Anne’s lace looks like a single white flower. Simple, maybe even ordinary. Easy to pass by. But come a little closer. What appears to be one flower is actually hundreds—sometimes nearly a thousand—tiny blossoms woven together. And resting at the center is something many people never notice at all—a single deep purple flower. Since the flower is rather unobtrusive from afar, most people walk right past it. Not because it’s hidden. Because they never loo

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

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