My husband, a political reporter, tells the story of Barry Goldwater who said to a pal as he prepared to enter the men’s room in the Pentagon, ``This is the only room in the Pentagon where they know what they’re doing.’’
Indeed, it’s the body that knows what it’s doing. The moment my leg slides over the saddle and I settle the reins, I don’t need consciousness to feel the horse’s mouth with my hands, for my legs to squeeze my mount forward and for my waist to move with the rhythm of its walk.
When I hear Paul Simon start singing ``Graceland,’’ I don’t think about how to dance; my body starts without me and I follow it onto the dance floor, inviting dancers to join me, or not.
When I begin the movements of tai chi, sometimes I can’t make my planning mind be quiet, and I come to a few minutes later to realize I’ve been doing the movements correctly and am now about one quarter of the way through. Or, conversely, I think nothing conscious but the feel of carving space and raising energy. It’s then that I have a glimpse of the goal our teacher describes: its not you doing tai chi; it’s tai chi doing you.
That’s when I know that I know what I’m doing.
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A lovely piece of prose here! I love how you describe this simple - and also complicated - notion, i.e. the tai chai doing you. And I love the specificity of this - Paul Simon singing 'Graceland,' feeling the horse's mouth in your hands. Really well done!
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