From Tears to Laughter

Just before my T'ai Chi practice today, I received an email from my dad. My mom has had a number of strokes--even she has lost count. Her health has been declining over the last few years. This email reported that the left side of Ma's face was drooping, that she'd had a CT scan, and had Bell's palsy. With medication it usually is resolved within 6 weeks. But the photo he attached was shocking!

This is my mother! The woman who not only taught me how to cook, sew, knit, crochet, and a million other little life skills, but also taught me subconsciously how to be the sun in the little family solar system. You know, the sun that generates the light and energy to nurture the life and activity of the solar system? This was my mom. She always provided wonderful food, mended ripped clothes, typed papers for school, thought ahead to what was going to be needed. She was problem solver extraordinaire that drove the life of the family. And this photo made her appear wilted and helpless. On the verge of tears, I went out into my back yard to practice.

I began to focus. But I had a little distraction, in the form of a 6-year-old angel. Our granddaughter is spending the night with us tonight, and she wanted to come out into the back yard while I was doing T'ai Chi. Although my husband, her grandfather, warned her that they were not to talk to me, she just couldn't help herself. She walked right up to me and said "Grammy?" I didn't say anything, trying to show her I was focused and not to be distracted. So she just started trying to copy my movements (more or less). I could see her out of the corner of my eye, a little to my right and a little behind me. I could hear her deep breaths and exaggerated exhalations, the sound of 6-year-old concentration. I turned and she was now on my left and a little in front of me. I still stoutly refused to look at her, to acknowledge that I was being distracted by her, but I was suddenly surprised to discover that I was smiling. And then I was grinning. And she said she was going to make up her own T'ai Chi. And then I was laughing. I couldn't help it.

Somehow I managed to finish the part of the form I've learned so far, even while telling her to move this way because I was going to punch, or move that way because I was going to kick. So it wasn't the absorption of a good book, where you're not aware of what's around you. It was more like enjoying a good meal with loved ones. I was enjoying the T'ai Chi, while performing this beautiful, magical dance with my beloved granddaughter.