So things are going on: Halloween parties, frustrations with uber-chaste Chinese cuties, roommates moving out and new ones on the way from England, but none of that is the focus here. Today I had my first Tai Chi lesson in the park. I needed an “introduction” which took time to arrange, but now apparently I am welcome to come by any morning whenever I can between 8-11. Tai Chi is one of the main things I’ve wanted to check out while over here, and would have liked to start before now, with cold on the way, but it is what it is. The main instructor of course has no English, but we’ve established sort of non-verbally that I am not a Westerner completely clueless about the ways of the Inner Life, and he isn’t go to kick the shit out of me with some of the moves/exercises that look more like Kung Fu. Tai Chi is of course one of the soft martial arts, and can help in fighting/defense. I was a bit dismayed when he put me in front of one of the female students and urged me to “attack her”. It was more of a balance exercise. But then he made boxer fists and urged me to go harder at her, which I wasn’t gonna do. I was ready for the various movements – of which there are either 108 or 85. But first there was a lot of breathing and centering to get used to. At first I felt he was giving too much attention to the foreigner, but other students would come and go at various points and he would pass me off to others for instruction as he went elsewhere. I thought it strange too how most of the men stopped for a cigarette every 5 minutes, but after all this is China. They can shut down smoking in English Pubs and NYC, even France, but it’ll never happen here.

Anyway, there was no doubting this teacher – he read me like a book. He could tell when I was doing something with my arm or with my Chi. He had a little “time out” T motion he would use to stop me whenever my motion was originating from the wrong place, and I’d start again. He would also stop me at just the right point, which I’m slowly learning to recognize. Then he would make me close my eyes, and take like a psychic snapshot to try and recognize the position. I don’t mean to be overly flaky in describing this, but that’s what it felt like. He’d say things in Chinese, which of course I couldn’t get, but I can say “I understand” and “I don’t understand”, and he can say “OK”, and make the thumbs up sign along with smiles, frowns and occasional blatant hand slapping or shaking out my arms when I was getting too tense. I felt like we had communication going and I was at least getting some things right, based on the look that eventually came over his face. It’s like meditation: you can tell when you’re hitting alpha wave state, but can’t really describe it or explain exactly how you get there. You just zone in on this other place, over time it’s a muscle to be exercised like any other.

Then I followed his head student through what were supposedly the first six moves, but felt more like 20. It’s hard to understand where one begins and the next ends, and of course they couldn’t completely tell me. But then I’d be surprised by another student being able to say just a few words in English to clarify. If I keep going often enough, things will become clearer and clearer – through muscle memory if nothing else. Plus there is all sorts of action in the park: people of all ages stretching, doing this rhythmic pingpong ball toss and catch, various weapons training, and other exercises; not to mention all of the tables of gaming – majong, Chinese chess, card games; and people playing classical music. Commies really know how to utilize a public space…

In other news, one month without TV (I’ll get a DVD player later, we don’t pay for channels and what would be the point?) but plenty of beer drinking with the music and net. Also digging more into Old Time radio (a strange nostalgia for my culture, or as it was 50-70 years ago), I recently found a PK Dick story on X-1 from May 22,1956 (#50 The Defenders). Not the greatest or anything, but still the first time I’ve heard Dick done for radio. Thankfully Phil didn’t have to live to see some of the less prestigious adaptations, not to mention blatant rip offs, of his work.