I find myself doing a lot of contemplating these
days, as I anticipate the arrival of my first
child. Even though work has never been more
hectic, I find that I am provoked into
philosophical musings more and more easily. This
week I found myself particularly distracted by
three little birds.
I was working on a lesson plan for an upcoming
tai chi seminar when a nest of hummingbirds drew
my attention. How could it not? I have never had
such a clear view of a hummingbird nest, and have
never had the opportunity to observe one feed its
young.
This nest is not exactly conspicuous. In fact, it
took several minutes for my wife to explain the
exact location to me, in spite me looking
directly at it and belonging to one of the few
species who can see colour. No one had seen this
nest before yesterday, although the young are
about 3 or four days old.
The hummingbird demonstrates the power of being
small and inconspicuous, an example of the yang
within the yin. The yang aspect of extreme yin is
also shown whenever one observes a fragile baby
of any species. Human infants, through their very
extreme vulnerability exert an irresistible power
over adults of their own species, and often over
adults of other species as well. What we often
find insufferable in teens and adults will prove
absolutely endearing in an infant. Also, an
infant crying alone at the side of a road will
elicit a very different response from the one
evoked by a 45-year-old football player having a
tantrum in the same place. This is how we grow
less powerful by being stronger.
The hummingbird seems to exhibit some
tai
chi principles
in reverse. For, while tai chi teaches us to
cultivate slowness in order to achieve
speed; it is the incredible speed of the
hummingbird's wings that allows it to sit
still in mid air, and even to fly backwards.
When we say that
tai chi teaches
us to use slowness to achieve speed, this can
have two meanings. In one respect this refers to
the profound efficiency of movement that is
cultivated by the slow conscious practice of tai
chi routines. Slow practice teaches us to move
the body without resistance. This slow movement
cultivates the potential for lightning fast
reflexes and the pure expression of natural
instinct. But in another respect, the use of
slowness to achieve speed refers to the awareness
of efficient structure and position. One learns
through practice to recognise the most
appropriate position and alignment of body and
mind, thus eliminating unnecessary or irrelevant
movement. "The fastest way to get somewhere is to
already be there."
Watch the pure, effortless movement of the
hummingbird, which seems to transcend space and
time. The wings move faster than the eye can
follow, yet the hummingbird seems constantly at
ease. Ever still, ever moving, ever hidden, ever
watchful; the hummingbird is quick to take action
against intruders whether they be other
hummingbirds at the feeder or nosey human
paparazzi. (You learn that when you try to get
close to a mother and her nest.)
Perhaps I am trying too hard to find tai chi
lessons in a hummingbird nest. But as a tai chi
teacher and student, it is both in our tradition
and in my natural instinct to seek lessons in
nature. And with my first child due in a few
weeks, I will be taking notes as we watch these
two chicks develop over the next two to three
weeks.
Tags: tai chi, hummingbirds
