I did tai chi out in the yard this morning.  The ground was cold still, from the freezing weather at night earlier this week; and the grass was wet from last night’s rain.  My feet haven’t warmed up yet.  They’re still chilly from the experience.

But a day outside, doing tai chi, is infinitely better than doing it inside, no matter how spacious the room nor how soft the floor.   Tears of delight form on my face at the awareness which comes to me, that I am a part of all that is around me.  The wind on my skin, the flood of sunlight on my face, the chirping of birds coming to my ears, the scent of smoke from someone’s wood-burning chimney… it’s a holy moment, and there’s nothing that can replace it — or so it feels.

The last few days, I’ve had energy imbalance issues, where I have felt like the druidic work I’ve been doing and the tai chi have been in conflict with one another in some way.  This morning reversed that initial impression, for reasons that I can’t quite fathom.  I said prayers for my father’s recovery from surgery, and for a few other folks that I know are sick or recovering from illness or surgical procedures, and then, just as suddenly, the sense of tai chi and druidry being out of alignment with one another passed away.  It felt both intuitive, and correct.  And I suspect that it had something to do with calling others to mind, and doing my best to feel woven into the fabric of their lives.  Chi working and druidry work, I think, sometimes feels lonely and disconnected — and yet, when I make a point of using these systems of training and practice to feel connected to all that is, I find that they are not out of alignment at all.  It’s an odd experience, and yet one well worth seeking out again and again.