Tai Chi Y2D287: in a silent house

I woke about 5:35 this morning, and padded out to the living room on wall to wall carpet. It’s hard to spin on this thick pile, but it’s easier to sink into a stance or a posture. My neck has been bothering me of late, so I resolve to go easy on it; but yesterday’s massage therapy has loosened up a lot there and in my right leg. So it’s easier to proceed.

Part of my daily practice is Druidic, rather than chi-based, and today I do that first. It often varies where in my practice I do it, but usually it’s at the beginning or end. Because it involves a lot of hands-over-heads, I recommend avoiding doing it in rooms with ceiling fans. Better yet outdoors.

Qi gong brings out several satisfying pops as my torsion movements pull bones and cartilage back to its correct position. It’s satisfying that I can start these two routines with the typical stiffness and tightness of a middle-aged adult, and yet feel flexible and springy at the end.

The tai chi form itself gives me problems this morning. The space in which I usually work is squarish. The space here at my mother’s place is more of an L-shape. Reconciling the form to the uncommon shape takes a bit of doing. Even after four days I still don’t feel I get it.

Completed. Neither my mother nor my father are awake yet. I climb back into bed, and write this entry, and plan my last day here. In the morning I go home. No sooner do I start writing when a sound of something smacking glass, so hard it reverberates, startles me. It’s the paper boy, delivering the paper, tossing the paper too hard and it smacks against the window by my head.

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