I’ve just finished a week of qigong in Costa Rica, enjoying mountain views, fresh food, water and air, and a recharge of the practice that I began with some skepticism a year ago. Last year I came at the encouragement of an old college friend. This year I bring people of my own, hoping that they too will take to this ancient Chinese art the way that I have.
My daughter is an avid practitioner of hatha yoga, and at first she finds the quiet simple exercises underwhelming. As the week wears on, however, she devises ways to blend her more extreme stretches with what is being taught and our instructor, or sifu, is patient with her hybrid efforts. Yes, there is a place for both in her life, she concludes, and she is glad that she has come with me.
My husband is one of the least limber people I know, and he starts the class out relieved that the exercises are relatively tame. He is also the ultimate do-it-yourself person and as I watch him in class I realize that in spite of the years he has spent as a high school teacher, he accepts instruction rather poorly. He can teach and he can collaborate, but just listen, watch and do is barely in his repertoire.
Late in the week, our sifu mentions that we need to accept that not everyone we try to include is going to embrace qigong the way that we have. He is probably talking to many people, but I feel like the comment is meant for me and is about my husband. Unfortunately, he uses a phrase that causes a visceral reaction in another whole arena. “You must accept that not everyone is ready for qigong,” he says. No, I scream back in my head. Don’t use the word ready.
Ready implies that there is only one way. As a Catholic child in a small Catholic town, I was taught that not all Christians were ready to become Catholics and we should help prepare them lest they be relegated to a lesser place in heaven. Later, evangelical Christians shook their heads at me when I argued with them about the narrowness of their faith, assuring me that I would come to believe what they did when I was ready. At least they hoped so, as they just hated the idea of my being tortured for an eternity.
I wasn’t ready for Eckankar, or ready for EST and I’m still not ready for any organized religion that asks me to accept that it offers the only way. I’m not an only kind of gal. One of my favorite quotes from Buddha is that there are many paths to the top of the mountain, and this quote alone has helped me embrace qigong.
I’m also not one to suffer in silence. At the next break I take my sifu aside, and share my discomfort. He is a very reasonable man, and a reflective one as well. After a few seconds of thought he agrees that I have a good point. During the next class the word ready is stricken from the record. “Qigong isn’t for everyone,” he corrects himself. “Others have other paths and it is good to accept that.”
Yes, it is. My husband has agreed to practice qigong for thirty days and now that he is no longer being instructed he is beginning to show a little more enthusiasm. We’ll see. Maybe this is a path he will want to walk along with me, for awhile at least. I still hope so, but if not it is okay. He needs to walk his path. I need to walk mine. You need to walk yours. We all need to let each other get to the top of the mountain using the route that is best for us.
How do your find your path? I think that you know it in your own heart. You just have to stop and listen.
For more on my own personal story of my Costa Rica qigong experiences please see
1. Embracing the Yin in Costa Rica,
2. Finding Forgiveness in Costa Rica
3. Breathing Deeply in Costa Rica and
4. Animal play in Costa Rica