Edited by Carol Hubbard
A Morning in Hong Kong
One early morning in the 1990s, while on a business trip in Hong Kong, I looked out my hotel window, which overlooked a large park with a large masonry deck. That morning, there were approximately 100 people performing Tai Chi on the deck.
At this point in my life’s journey (I was in my thirties), I wondered why anyone would spend time engaged in such a simplistic, “non-productive” activity.
But there they were. One hundred embodied souls slowly moving in unison — performing motions I had no real appreciation for—except to note that there was an intrinsic beauty in the movements, and that the group was totally invested in what they were doing.
Moreover, despite my superficial devaluing of their activity, something in my soul was intrigued.
Tai Chi – My Early Connection
As a child, I was tiny (but I caught up later). I was slight, asthmatic, shy, a rule follower, and a people pleaser—especially with adults, and I was often bullied.
My mother was a very loving person. I adored her. She also—all 5-feet, 1-inch of her—was one of the toughest, most intense people I have ever known.
Mom was severely asthmatic throughout her life. When she graduated high school, she weighed 80 lbs. Yet, illness be damned, she did what she wanted to do—including cheerleading, basketball, and other sports. Despite the physical consequences, neither she nor her parents thought about holding her back. It was generational toughness.[1]
Therefore, it was beyond her comprehension that I, her son, would allow anyone to bully me. So, when I was in the fourth grade, and after countless unsuccessful attempts to encourage me to defend myself and fight back, she enrolled all 45 lbs. of me in Taekwondo.
Taekwondo was my informal introduction to Tai Chi—something I would not realize until I was well into my fifties. It would take until now (age 64) for me to realize that learning the practice of Tai Chi is highly beneficial to both my physical body’s health and my soul’s spiritual wellbeing.
Transforming Physical Proficiency Into Spiritual Expression
Taekwondo did not solve the underlying issues of why I was being bullied. My ability to defend myself did not improve. I just couldn’t bring myself to fight back.
Tai Chi is not just physical; it’s also a spiritual and meditative practice. In addition, the slow methodical movements of Tai Chi and similar forms are fundamental to the physical practice and mastery of martial arts and self-defense.
Realizing that I’m not naturally physically violent has led me to realize that my heart and my soul are synonymous. At my core, I long for peace, love, and intrinsic joy—no matter my physical circumstance.
The physical is fleeting and finite. I am not my physical body. The soul is timeless, eternal. The soul—my Spirit—is who I am. Where should my focus be?
Becoming proficient in the practice of Tai Chi or any high-level spiritual endeavor requires repetitive practice to develop both muscle (physical) and mental (mind) memory.
Ultimately, the repetitive practiced motions that require concentrated participation of the body and mind transform into subconscious and instinctive motions of the heart and soul. Physical drills and practices are transformed into inward spiritual meditations that are ultimately reflected back into the physical world as a beautiful, calm, peaceful dance.
A Tai Chi Heart
Tai Chi is not a state of mind—it is a state of heart. It is my physical and spiritual vehicle to the place of quiet calm at my core. For now, it is my primary practice that feeds my heart and raises my spiritual frequency.
As I have stated in a previous blog, there are several things in my life that I use as spiritual balm—music, art, massage, hiking, and Reiki. Now I have added Tai Chi to my spiritual tool kit.
One immediate benefit of Tai Chi has been the further quieting of my Spirit, deepening my ability to appreciate, be grateful, and love in ways I have never experienced before.
In the chaos of the times in which we live, I have experienced a deeper displacement of fear, anger, and judgment—replaced by a deeper sense of love, empathy, understanding, and joy.
This transformation into an inward spiritual focus and calm is what I call “the Tai Chi Heart.”
Whether it’s the practice of Tai Chi or some other practice that resonates with and elevates you spiritually, ask Spirit[2] for that which will create a Tai Chi Heart within you.
Then try to view everything through the lens of your Tai Chi Heart:
Meditate with a Tai Chi Heart.
Reflect with a Tai Chi Heart.
Observe with a Tai Chi Heart.
Read with a Tai Chi Heart.
Interact with a Tai Chi Heart.
Be with loved ones with a Tai Chi Heart.
Embrace life with a Tai Chi Heart.
Eat and drink with a Tai Chi Heart.
Walk with a Tai Chi Heart.
Talk with a Tai Chi Heart.
Drive with a Tai Chi Heart.
Love yourself with a Tai Chi Heart.
Love everyone with a Tai Chi Heart.
The inward turning to your Tai Chi Heart is not selfish. It is this inward focus that ultimately reflects light and love back into the world. So …
Just be, with a Tai Chi Heart.
Blessings to all,
Ken Kyzer – The Spiritual Engineer
For further information on reincarnation, visit the website:
[1] Ultimately my mom’s body could not withstand the demands of her drive and determination.
[2] When I refer to “Spirit,” I’m referring to everything that emanates from the Creator—who the Bible (1 John 4:7) characterizes as pure love—and, more specifically as we navigate our life paths, the spirit guides (deceased loved ones, more advanced souls, ascended masters, angels, etc.—however you view them) who guide us. The number and names of the spirit guides can vary according to what is being addressed. I rarely know who these guides are when I receive guidance from Spirit. So, on occasion, I will refer to Spirit as them.
Likewise, when I refer to the Creator, I am referring to the totality of all that is seen and unseen and all that is and is not. In other words, I am a part of (contained within) the Creator, I am not the Creator. The Creator is boundless, alive, loving, and ever expanding.