Go Deep

To call this week up and down would be generous.

Training has been tough. It always is. But beginning a proper review of Tai Chi 28 stripped away a few comfortable assumptions I didn’t realise I was carrying. The distance between where I am and where I want to be revealed itself very clearly — and not gently.

That’s not a bad thing. There is space to grow into. Room to build. I simply believed I was further along than I actually am.

The issue is familiar. I think the body is moving, but it isn’t — not fully. The arms are still doing too much of the work, stepping in where they shouldn’t. They’re meant to follow, not lead. The movement should originate from the body, carried through naturally, posture to posture.

Flow is still incomplete. The pauses aren’t obvious — not the kind where the form collapses — but they’re there. Subtle breaks in continuity. Hesitations that interrupt what should be seamless.

I suspect the real cause is my mind. When concentration slips, even briefly, old habits quietly return. This has become a sticking point that can no longer be ignored.

Practice needs to be distraction-free. Fully contained. I need to be inside the form — and slightly ahead of it. Feeling what comes next before it arrives.

Flow lives in the small things.
The transitions between movements.
The hands responding to the body.
The feet guided by weight, not intention.

It’s become clear that improvement won’t come from effort alone, but from clarity. A clean mind. A narrow focus. When I’m in the form, nothing else should exist.

So today the goal was simple:

Go deep.
Stay deep.
Feel what’s next and let the form carry itself.

Despite the freezing cold and the crowded conditions caused by the rain, today was good. I didn’t feel particularly strong, but I showed up and did the work.

The new form is progressing — slowly, steadily. Pu Bu still humbles me. It has for over a year. But for the first time in a long while, I can feel change happening. Small gains, occasionally visible, quietly earned.

The hips remain a long-term project. Some days progress feels tangible. Other days it feels imaginary. That’s just the nature of this work.

There isn’t much more to say tonight, except this:

I feel a little lonely.

As winter tightens its grip, the school thins out. Friends drift away with the warmth. The days shorten. The cold settles in.

It looks like solitude will be a bigger part of this chapter than I expected.

I suppose that, too, is something to learn how to stand inside.