At Pompanck Farm, my Tai Chi lessons are right by the pond, the koi swim up to the surface waiting for Scott to feed them. This was our first joint lesson, 30 minutes of Tai Chi instruction, 30 minutes of writing instruction, ten minutes on either end for bullshitting.

Scott and I talked a lot about my discomfort with the ritualistic nature of Tai Chi, it’s connection to the earth, the water, fire and wind, we decided to begin with my learning three simple movements and practicing them. At this point, I don’t need to know what they symbolize, I’m just going to get the movements down and see what I feel. Scott was a bit uncomfortable with this pared-down approach to this ancient practice, but he went along.

He brought something he wrote, it was about the kind of dogs he wants to have, and how important a dog is to his life. We got distracted from the writing lesson, and talked about the different ways to get a dog, and then got back on track.

I am hopeful but wary. I’ve never done well with instruction in my life, and anything involving practiced physical movements tenses me up. But it was a good first start. I told Scott writing is a daily practice like Tai Chi, you have to do it regularly in order to get comfortable with it. I am neither optimistic or pessimistic about these lessons, we’ve been down this road before and we tend to distract one another from a disciplined practice, perhaps because we are such good friends and have so much to talk about.

All of our lives are filled with rituals, people seem to need them, but religious and spiritual ritual has always stumped me and blocked me from the kind of pure and connected spiritual life I seek.  I see that Tai Chi would be good for my body, the thing I need to come to see is how it is also good for my mind.

And I need to keep Scott’s feet to the fire. We should have been talking about writing, not how to get a dog in our 30 minutes. He is slippery that way, and so am I. I’ll do better next time.