Such a scheduling snafu gives tai chi a poor first impression before you even know what it really is and what it can do for you. Part of the problem might also be that conventional thinking has us assuming that lots of effort and time are needed in order to feel the effects. But tai chi is not like muscle-building or working out at the gym (or even like jogging or swimming; although you can incorporate tai chi principles into such routines with great results). Actually, you can feel the difference quite quickly. Of course, regular, long-term practice produces more in-depth knowledge and ability, as well as longer lasting benefits. Taijiquan becomes a life-long pursuit for many.

Lately, I’ve been wondering how necessary it actually is to think that you need to do tai chi regularly over time to get much out of it. Can you actually learn something about tai chi in a relatively short time and practice it without disrupting established routines? I think you can. I’ve suspected so for a long time, but the subject just recently surfaced to the forefront of my attention.

I was hiking with an acquaintance who had taken some tai chi classes in the past and had learned a little form. Along the way, she had moved to a town that had no tai chi teacher; so she got a membership at a health club to exercise. She likes to hike, but she goes to the club, which is handy when the weather is bad (What? No tai chi class at the club?!). While we were hiking she pointed out to me a strain that was bothering her. She had turned up the resistance factor on the machine to work her arms against it, which turned out to be too much. She hyper-extended a ligament, tendon, or muscle…whatever. … Her shoulder was still hurting weeks later and her range of motion was painfully constrained.

Hearing her story got me to thinking. I knew that she had injured herself because she had used her body incorrectly. I could have told her about whole body movement and initiating and completing moves from the lower dantian. I see it all the time. People don’t know they could avoid injury if they knew just a little bit about tai chi principles of movement. In a relatively short time, she could produce equal-to-better effects less hazardously by knowing some tai chi. For one thing, she would know how not to hyper-extend any part of the body.

If I showed someone just one thing about taiji it could make a difference in their exercise routine. They could reduce the risk of, or even prevent, injury just by practicing whole body moves as a single unit.

You can learn how to move from the dantian in a very short time with a good teacher and a balanced frame of mind. Just initiate and finish each move in the abdominal area. It’s enough even if that’s the only task you do for a long time. You can practice it at the gym on those contraptions that you push and pull against.

The Earth heals. It heals itself, . . . . it heals us.  The pace of earthtime passing is slow by human standards; like whales drifting in the sea… ponderous and sentient. Our sense of time differs from that of our planet. Not surprisingly, we feel out of balance. As gifted as we are with Earth’s support of our rise to such a finely evolved species (we’ve attained even the power of gods), we suffer from an unhealthy imbalance of mind, body, and spirit. Shouldn’t we evolve a clearer understanding of who we are and where we came from? Some practices heal partly by repairing our natural connection to Earth. That link is our natural heritage, even though few seem to feel it anymore. Taiji and qigong can help to hone that link. They are healing practices, like ritual… rhythmic, repetitive, meditative, relaxing and generative.

Sometimes, we call them “principles.” But often that’s just something to go on while we figure out what they really are. Below the surface, though, we are aware that, whatever you may call them, they express harmonious movement–whole body moves as a single unit. Language alone does sufficiently define it. Getting in touch with the core of your being is the task of tai chi.