Chinatown smells of fish and incense. Sky is dimming, clouds coming in just as the sun in starting to set. I am locking up my bike and Erin is crossing the street, looking for a place to stash hers. I finish up, wait for her to come back.
Erin is wearing black, an unusual break from her normally colorful appearance. Goes well with her dark hair.
We climb five flights of stairs in a white, alley sized hallway and then enter a room with wooden floors, few windows, and a gold-colored archway set into a red wall at the back. A guy named Micheal introduces himself, points us toward the restrooms. When we return, I tell him
I'd heard about the school from another student, and he tells us a bit about Tai Chi Chuan, or Tai Chi Boxing.
The main thing Mike wants to get across is that Tai Chi is misunderstood in the west. After the communists came to power in China, a lot of Tai Chi practitioners were forced to either give up the art or water it down, convert it into a breathing exercise which has little more
defensive value than dancing. The way he practices came from a lineage that pre-dates the changes made, and is still focused on teaching good fighting principles.
Erin and I are curious enough to stick around and watch. It is interesting, the students move slowly and with some grace, but they take stances and make movements which are extremely challenging; Deep, low, and fluid pushing exercises.
Mike likes to talk, explains a lot in terms of Chi energy. He tells a story about his father, a hunter, who apparently developed a lot of Chi energy by hunting. His father would just sit by a tree in the woods, waiting for something to shoot, all the while he was relaxed and, so
doing, developing Chi.
I like the way they move, but after a while Erin and I head out. I'm thinking I'd rather spend time practicing and understanding what I'm doing based on observable physical facts, Erin just thinks they need to spend a little less time on the talking and more on the doing. We head down stairs, make a spontaneous stop for dinner. We chat a bit about existence, the fact that we are clouds of atoms, wonder a bit if anything can come of remembering that. She tells me about a book called "Human Dynamics," which she thinks I would like, and briefly mentions her new relationship.
It's raining when we leave. I try not to get distracted looking at her hair in the rain, but I think she knows where my mind has gone. I figure I'm like any other guy, shrug it off. Later she shows me her art studio before I head back to my sweetheart, and she to wherever she's going.