Fast Forms, Slow Recognition

A slow, tough morning was the only way to describe the session, but the longer it went, the better it got, and the fix, when it finally arrived, was one I'd already been taught years ago. Tai Chi wasn't helping me today. I needed to stop thinking and move fast.

So I did, and it worked the way it always has. The forms came out rough, under-practised lately, but their speed and power swallowed everything else almost immediately. There's a particular truth in that whirlpool of hands and feet circling at pace; you literally don't have time to be anywhere else. No room left for the mind to wander. Simple, and completely effective. The session turned from struggle into a hard-earned pool of sweat, whatever had been holding me back burning off with the effort.

Then lunch, and an unexpected sight walking into the café: a woman I once shared real time with. The shock passed quickly, leaving behind something closer to longing. Our time together was brief, but it was good. A happy memory from a life that's been lived richly, even in its shorter chapters.

I have no idea where the rest of the day is headed, but it's starting to look more interesting than I expected. This simple existence still finds ways to surprise me.

The second session began, and I braced for more of the same struggle. Instead, the two sessions couldn't have been more different, as if the whole world had quietly shifted in the space of a few hours. Everything that resisted me in the morning suddenly clicked, flowing with an ease I hadn't felt all week. Legs loose and strong, stances low and wide, and somewhere along the way a smile returned to my face that had been missing for days.

I don't know what changed. What I do know is this, you only get days like this if you keep showing up regardless. Those are the days that keep pulling you back.