26/09/2025
As we practice Qigong, small lessons become profound experiences… like understanding the dynamics of how to change direction in a harmonious way. Practice becomes the opportunity for your own personal discovery on how to integrate your body, mind and intention.
For many, the slow pace of certain Chinese martial arts forms is puzzling. Taijiquan is the best-known example, but it‘s not unique. To the outside eye it can look ornamental, even indulgent. Yet the slowness isn’t performative: it’s a way of entering into the marrow of things.
Anything studied deeply enough eventually reveals more than itself. It becomes a mirror of the order of reality. The divine, beyond all things yet pervading all things, can be glimpsed wherever we look deeply enough. A single movement, stretched out and examined moment by moment, becomes an ocean of depth.
To move slowly is to expand awareness until it reaches into every crevice of being. Each joint and tendon, each contraction and release, each flicker of thought is brought into view. One begins to see the tides of Qi. Where it collects, how it permeates the tissues, how it shapes the body’s inner landscape as it moves.
In time, the act of moving through a form becomes less about technique and more about revelation. It isn’t simply “doing” the form, but dwelling in the mystery that the form opens. But such depth is not inevitable. It only arises when practice turns into devotion.
This path isn’t for everyone. Many practise for health, for strength, for combat. All of this has its place. But for those who walk further, the simple act of lifting a hand or turning a foot becomes a revelation of the cosmos, and the divine presence that lives within it.
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