Developed according to theory, thought, philosophy, science, mathematics and the laws of nature, the joy of practising t’ai chi is being able to suddenly unlock a secret.

I feel extremely privileged to have a beautiful garden. On an early spring day, I stand there ready to start my practice, watching the sun rising. I take a moment to admire and smell the flowers waking up from the winter, embracing spring. They are changing, from bulbs in the earth, to rising stems and closed buds, to open into colourful petals; they are the perfect picture of nature’s changing cycles and I am part of those cycles. At first my environment appears to be completely silent. The eyes are such a strong experience that we tend to categorise things by how it looks.

So I close my eyes and listen; it is then that I notice the melody of bird songs, the rustling of the leaves in a gentle breeze, the lapping sound of my cat licking her fur, one of my neighbour’s dogs barking in the distance, a tractor driving in the opposite field and before long, I am almost overwhelmed by the richness and variety of sounds around me. Amidst this great symphony I listen beyond what I am able to hear and am then able to tap into the energies of our nature. As I learn to live in harmony with the Universe, I realise that I am an inextricable part of Nature. I calmly and confidently allow my presence to expand into this space.

I then connect to my inner senses (which have been dulled by thinking), listening to my breath, becoming aware of any aches or pains and of any other sensations I might have. I stand still and collect myself. Sometimes I imagine I am on a stage with the entire world looking on. In the same way a good actor’s voice and gestures project the energy and motivation of his character all the way out to the cheaper seats, I make a statement about who I am; that I can be seen all the way to the end of the Universe. At other times, I imagine I am creating a giant spider web, connecting every part of the space around me; my web is light and delicate yet immensely strong.

I then begin practising The Form; movements rise and fall spontaneously, yet with humility. I get excited about tweaks because they are messages that I am improving. I feel what is happening being acutely aware of a sense of inner peace dancing with the external qualities of the fresh air and tranquillity; I become awestruck. For a few glorious seconds there is no background chatter inside my head, apart from maybe a “wow”!

I have every realisation that perhaps I will not feel these sensations again for a very long time. I practise because I know those sensations are there, because I trust to keep myself fired up no matter what. So, my daily practice is like painting a masterpiece that develops deeply into a feeling of serenity that permeates the rest of my day.