BE Society

What Is Qigong?

"What is this thing you do?"

he asks, hesitantly,
over the phone,
"this quee gung?"
"Is it a martial art?
he asks,
or is it some kind of health practice?"
"Well," I answer,
it is a health practice,
it's also a meditation practice,
as well as a spiritual practice."
"Wow," he says,
"all in one package huh?
What a deal!"

I suppose qigong
could be called
a sort of
psycho-spiritual-
energetic-meditation-
movement/exercise/routine.
Then again,
there's no need
to get so technical.
Qigong is really
just something that I do,
like breathing,
like eating,
like dancing,
like making love.
Making love
with the universe,
you might call it.
An amorous, attentive,
articulated, attitude
of openness and grace—
an exchange
on a deep and basic level
of my inner being
with that of the great
undivided, unending,
undissolved Dao.
And with that exchange
comes balance, harmony,
a composure of spirit,
a deepening of character,
a relaxing of mind muscles,
a feel of safety,
of being at home,
of being empty
and full at the same time,
of being attentive to detail,
clear of vision,
open of heart,
soft yet strong
like water, like wind,
sensitive to changes
in the energetic atmosphere,
simple joy in beingness,
compassion for the sufferings
of those around me,
a sense of proportion,
of objectivity,
of openess to change,
transformation and miracles,
a greater sense of
who I am myself
and how I fit into
the grand scheme of things,
a deeper understanding
of how I fit into nature
and how nature fits
in to me.

Of course sometimes
it's just too hard,
too tedious, too boring,
too hot, too little sleep,
not in the mood,
no time, no quiet,
too much to do,
too much to understand,
too much to remember,
too hard to stretch,
to stop my madly
running mind.
I'm too off center,
too sad,
too anxious,
too impatient.
too spaced out,
too distracted,
too distraught,
too confused,
feeling hopeless,
out of whack,
deflated, defeated,
dissolved in my own
sense of importance
or no-importance.

But still, the practice,
the form,
the breathing,
the focusing,
the exchange
of light and darkness,
of form and formlessness,
or yin and yang,
in and out—
all sustains me,
uplifts me
out of my limited
sense of being,
my old tired patterns,
my old empty
emotional, mental,
physical and spiritual states—
those oh so familiar faces
of doubt, worry, fear
that we all carry
from childhood,
those past life
karmic hauntings
that hold so much power
over us
until we learn
to let them go,
release them
gently but firmly
into the great healing
eternal Dao.

As the ancient Daoists said:
We humans,
are stardust,
we are golden,
and we've go to get ourselves
back to the garden—
the garden of Dao,
the garden of health,
vitality and spirit,
using and uniting with
the three treasures
of jing, qi and shen,
those three shining jewels
of simplicity, patience
and compassion—
those three celestial guides
leading us back
to before the beginning
when Dao gave birth
to the oneness,
the oneness gave birth
to the two—
the endless spinning,
dancing polarity
of yin and yang,
and the two gave birth
to the three,
those shining jewels,
those celestial guides,
which, in turn,
give birth continuously
to the ten thousand things—
all that we see
and know and touch
and feel and experience.

Yes, I say,
this mysterious qigong practice
that practices me,
is sometimes a struggle,
sometimes a dance,
but always a wise
and nurturing teacher.
Yes, it is something
that I hold dear and precious
like a light in my life,
like a treasure in my heart,
like a gift of the universe
which humbles me
and fells me
with the sense of awe.
This qigong,
as dear to me
as the smile
on the face
of my beloved,
the firm yet loving
words of my teachers,
the clear eyed vision
of my children,
the very centermost
core of my being—
eternal, vast
formless yet solid,
eternally present
while I drift aimlessly
through the wu wei
of my exultant, hopeful,
endlessly unfolding life.

by Solala Towler