"All of a person's viewpoints, concepts about life and religious convictions are a manifestation of his energy. If one's mind is strongly conditioned, it is as if one measures everything with a crooked ruler; he can never measure anything accurately. If one's aim, however, is to know the truth, then one must straighten and refine one's measuring instrument, for if the instrument is faulty, one cannot perceive realitiy precisely.

When the nervous system of a human bein is restored and refined, one becomes calm and objective. One can then see clearly and discover that although there is diversity in the universe, there is unity behind that diversity. One may intellectually learn, understand, and accept the unity of the universe, but this is very different from arriving at the unity through personal spiritual purification. Struggling to perceive unity is not spontaneous experience of and participation in unity itself."

Last week's chi gong lesson was very uplifting. The blueprint sensation that I already have occassionally for my legs, extended to my entire body this time: while doing the exercises, I all of a sudden was able to, well, melt into some kind of logical and natural position, like I could fold myself around some preformed frame of myself.

It's hard to describe, but when I stood like that, without any tension, narrowing, questions or doubt, it felt like this was the only way I could ever want to stand. I didn't feel any need to shift, move, ask or even think.

Very uplifting indeed, but also very humbling, because it made me realize that, well, who am I to interfere with myself? And who am I to believe that I cannot cope without me, as in me-maaike-with-the-brains? This intellectual me is only 30 years old, whereas my other me is driven by something much older. And much wiser too.

Not much news AT-wise lately; my teacher is moving house, so I haven't had lessons for some weeks. That's okay, I find that I finally have the discipline to lie down every once in a while and listen to myself, even though the last weeks have been extremely stressful, both workwise and privately. The stress doesn't disappear, I'm still my usual worrysome self, but at least I now know that I have a way out, and that it's my own responsibility to take care of myself.

I still have my Chi Gong lessons every week, and one thing made me think. We do a lot of energy-moving exercises. I noticed that when my Chi Gong teacher explains these exercises, he always uses the word 'imagine', as in 'imagine you have a ball of energy in your hands. Now imagine we slowly move the ball.' When I just started Chi Gong, I didn't feel anything. But as time went by, I started feeling this energy as two spots in the palms of my hands, and later as an actual ball. And now, I'm reaching the point where I can't even imagine not feeling it.

I find this remarkable. If my teacher had told me that there were energy balls, I would never have believed him. But by imagining energy balls, they became a reality for me. Imagine is a funny word; it takes away the need for things to be logical, and therefore opens up a whole new range of possibilities that I might otherwise never have accepted to be possibly true. Which only shows how I am limited, not by what is possible, but by what I think is possible in my reality.

After some talk with Cypher, lots of deliberation with myself, and finally ending up just listening to my gut feeling, I decided to give the herbals a try and went for a consultation last week. It never stops to amaze me how this works: you sit down, he feels one wrist, then the other, looks at your tongue, checks your eyes, and then usually says something that's so true that it hits you in the stomach- literally. This time, he remarked, among other things, that I have a lot of anger inside that I don't let out. Kabam, jackpot.

In Chinese medicin, this is not just a remark about a state of mind; anger has actual physical consequences, because it leads to an excess of fire in the body, which can cause all kinds of problems, my shoulder probably being one of them. He also noted an excess of water, so I got a bag of dry, cool herbals to restore the balance. If you want to know what dry, cool herbals look like: they include stones. Stones? Yeah, I'm drinking tea made from stones. At times like this, it's handy to have an organic chemist around the house: Cypher noted that it's actually a piece of iron-rich stone, and, as we all know, iron has some very positive effects on your blood. Still, I'm drinking tea made from stones. And red berries, black seeds, pieces of tree bark, leaves and other stuff.

The taste is actually not that bad, once you get used to it: bitter, a bit like coffee that you've left on the stove for a couple of days. I'm supposed to drink three cups a day, and it's funny: about 15 minutes after I've finished one, the 'hotspot' in my hands and feet get quite warm, just like after an AT or Chi Gong lesson. I guess it's too early to notice any changes in my shoulder, but one thing that did change quite soon, is that the cough that has been bothering me for some weeks now, is starting to get less.

The last two weeks have been quite strenuous, emotionally speaking. Lots of things happened in my family, some small miracles, but also some really sad news. I don't know what I hate more: big fights, or the things that don't get said. Hmm, at least it's heading somewhere. Even better, it's heading the direction I want it to go, so that's a change. And I'm not alone, Cypher is more solid than a 16th century oak floor, so that's a comfort too.

What I noticed, is that at times like these, my shoulder starts whining again. It's really whining- not physical pain in one place, but a numb feeling that seems to move around. AT, Chi Gong and a visit to the chiropractor do help a bit in removing the physical stiffness, but the whining stays most of the time.

I know there's one other alternative I could try: Chinese herbals. My Chi Gong teacher is a herbal doctor too, his herbals cured my of a nasty bronchitis once. He knows of my shoulder problem, and says it's caused (as most of the illnesses in our body) by an imbalance in energy and hormones which results in a hindered blood circulation. He also says he can alleviate the problem with herbals, but that it should be my choice to do so. I feel very reluctant to use them, even though I know they can help.

At first, I thought this was because these herbals are quite expensive. But I soon figured that I have enough money for the things I want or need. And, after all, I pay a lot of money for things that will never result in anything. Health insurance being one of them, ironically.

Then I figured it must be the fact that I don't know what the herbals are made up of. It's not like you get a labelled little pot with powder that you should take in fixed dosages. No, you get a plastic carrier bag, filled with exotic things like pieces of wood, berries, leaves and undefined little bits. But this too, is not something I'm bothered about. I mean, what good is a label if it tells you that you are taking nice chemical poisons like, say, Prednison or antibiotics? So, it must be something else.

And I know what it is, of course I do. It's fear and disbelief, the same mixture that I experienced when I started taking Chi Gong lessons. It's the fear that it might work, that these herbals may fix my shoulder problem. Because if that's true, then lots of other things are true too. Like my teacher's other students, some of which shouldn't be walking around on this planet any longer, statistically speaking. But they're still here. Like my teacher's way of diagnosing, which looks ridiculously simple, but is more accurate than that of any other doctor I've met so far. Even like some of the thoughts that sometime just pop up inside of me may not be figments of imagination, but reality.

In that case, I have to drastically adjust my view on things. Yet another leap of faith, once again. So...do I jump?

"Venerable Teacher, should one spend all of his time and energy in quiet sitting meditation in order to remain above all worldly conditions and maintain empty-mindedness?"

"Kind prince, one who spends all of his time and energy in quiet sitting meditation for this purpose is only fixing his mind in a certain, narrow way. This is not empty-mindedness, but only narrow-mindedness. Such practice does not lead one anywhere, much less to becoming an integrally virtuous being."

"The practice of whole-mindedness, you see, is not the practice of stiffness. What is stiff belongs in the company of the dead, whereas what is supple belongs in the company of the living. The mind should be like water that is always flowing smoothly. One should not designate a specific time or place in which to practice empty-mindedness, but should practice mental unassertiveness in all aspects of life, the essential as well as the trivial."

Chi Gong: same story, lots of little and big changes taking place. Like being able to do the balancing exercises (like very slow shifts from one foot to the other) with my eyes closed. Or actually experiencing energy balls instead of visualising them. And the best part: during some of the exercises, I all of a sudden know exactly where I am. I, as in the boundaries between my skin and the outside world, the parts of my body that are supposed to move and ones that are supposed to stay still and support me. For just a few milliseconds, I have complete control over every cell in my body. Because it's so short, I don't even realise when it happens, I only notice the return to my old state afterwards. But it's very exciting anyway, and it leaves me very curious about what I'll encounter next.

Last week, my Chi Gong teacher returned from his summer holiday with his family in China, so we had a lesson again. When he returns from China, my teacher is always much more energetic; something we notice very much as students.

We started with a little meditation, and just ten seconds into the first exercise, I already felt a huge rush of energy from my hands to my feet. Amazing indeed. It's funny, the same thing that I disliked about Chi Gong, is now one of the things I'm learning to like most: the entire absence of 'having to', 'considering', 'right or wrong', or even 'up or down'. The entire purpose of the lesson is just 'to be', without judgement, without intellectual effort.

It took me a while to make this leap of faith, and I still wonder in the back of my mind whether I'm doing things right. I guess this comes close to what my AT teacher calls giving up: letting go not only of the fear what others may think of me, but also letting go of the fear what I may think of myself.

This is cool:

"People who are unenlightened have not yet reached the integral truth, for they cannot direct their mental energy to flow in the right channel. Instead, they adhere to totally false, rigidly formed belief systems that are composed of concepts derived from the limited sensory organs. This distorted information is stored and arranged by the memory and judgment systems. Thus, the more one knows and understands, the more dimness and confusion are created.
[...]
All of this conditioning builds up layer upon layer of conceptual filters through which one then looks at the world. Thus, not only is one's perception of the world distorted by the interposition of these false images, but one's very being becomes distorted."

Meanwhile, my Chi Gong teacher is off to Tibet for two months. I hope he manages to get his Chinese herbals through customs this time :-)

My Chi Gong teacher has given me a small book with the later teachings of Lao Tzu, as a kind of "homework for spiritual development". This is the kind of homework I don't mind at all :-) The quote below has a special appeal to me, because it reminds me of all the times I wondered how to 'do' AT on my own and whether I 'lost' my Alexander skills.

To be aware of being with the Integral One is like watching the reflection of the moon on the surface of a still lake. Actually, the moon is not in the lake, yet people speak of it so. If, by chance, clouds appear and cover the moon, people say that is has departed from the lake, yet is has actually gone nowhere.

The relationship between the universal soul and the individual soul is just like the relationship between the moon and the lake. Spiritual security is always present, but the clouds of the mind create the phenomena of apparent separation. The true nature of the universe is always self-existent, never failing to respond to an individual's straight and direct awareness.

If an individual is aware enough, he realizes that the Integral One does not come only at the time of awareness. When one's mind is disturbed or confused, the Integral One seems to disappear, yet one's true nature has not departed. One creates the darkness which covers the light that is always available to freely support one's soul.

For a teacher to impart his wisdom to others is purely a realization of his virtue. A student should not try to disturb his teacher with emotional or material entanglements of any kind, because the gross energy of mental, physical, or emotional entanglement severs the subtle spiritual connection with the divine energy.

If a disciple is excessively emotional or if his mind is very rigid, good teachings will be distorted and the teacher's wisdom will not be assimilated. If a teacher must continually work on the student's mental problems, he is prevented from sharing his spiritual treasure with the student.

The student should not insist that the teacher solve his problems or do the inner work that is an essential aspect of one's own cultivation. Instead, the student should eliminate all obastacles and make himself an empty vessel to receive the light of One Great Life from his teacher.

People always tell me that I have a little monkey called coincidence sitting on my shoulder. And it's true, things keep happening to me all of the time. For instance, when I moved house last year, my appartment had many empty walls. Just when I decided that it was time for action, an art student rang my doorbell; he sold his own work, which looked great on my walls.

It was also coincidence that put me in contact with my chi gong teacher. About one year ago, I was somewhere at the other end of the country for a meeting, and on my way back, I had to take another train than the one I'd usually take. It was quite late, so the train was completely empty, except for a tiny old Chinese man who was reading. It's funny, but somehow, I felt like sitting close to him, so I sat down opposite to him. We started talking, and he pointed out things about we which completely surprised me, like the fact that I had a weak liver (I've had glandular fever [Pfeiffer's disease] when I was 22).

Then he started to talk about Chi Gong, and this immediately got me interested. But since we were in a train quite far from my hometown, I assumed that he must live too far away for me to follow lessons. But it turned out that he taught only 15 minutes away from where I work. Speaking of coincidence...

This is one of the questions my first teacher refused to answer. Once he said: "as long as you keep asking, you can be sure that you're wrong". Sometimes, I think I begin to understand why.

I haven't had many Alexander lessons lately, but some weeks ago, during Chi Gong, I stood like I've never stood before. It's hard to explain, especially because standing seems like such a trivial thing to do, but the way I was standing was the only possible way I could stand, like a kind of proto-standing from which all other standing derives. There was simply no other way I could stand at that moment. It lasted only for a few seconds, but in that time, it did not even come to my mind to ask myself whether this was right. It simply was.

Yeah, that makes sense. I'm quite sure that it looked a lot better than it sounds here :-)

Last week's Chi Gong lesson started out like any other: opening the various parts of our bodies to let the energy flow, concentrating on the palms of our hands, moving energy to our navels. But halfway through the lesson, our teacher introduced some new routines which were quite spectacular, compared to what we're used to. We did something that resembled pulling a bow, moving away energy with one hand, while pulling back the other. Another exercise involved standing on one leg and pushing energy from one hand to the other.

This was great, the movements were very fluid and graceful; at a certain moment, almost felt like Karate Kid. Including his reckless attitude: I was so excited that I forgot all about inhibition and ended up losing my balance.

Since some of the exercises are also really useful for singing, I asked our teacher whether I could do some of them at home. He was very strict about this: no Chi Gong without supervision of a good teacher. In my current state, I'd probably do more harm than good. Hmm...sounds familiar :-)

Found some pieces of writing which I didn't finish, but still wanted to post.

During Chi Gong, I do notice some remarkable things.

A typical lesson comprises series of gentle exercises; each exercise is finished by bringing down energy to your navel (according to Chinese medicin, the kidneys and the liver are the most vital organs in the body)and meditating for one or two minutes. The exercises at the start of the lesson are meant for opening the meridians in the body and letting the energy flow. As the lesson progresses, the teacher picks certain exercises that channel the energy to those parts of the pupils' organism that particularly need it.

This is where the remarkable things start. Just like an Alexander teacher can tell things about a pupil by means of his hands, a Chi Gong teacher can tell things about a pupil by focusing on the energetic field of a pupil. So without even touching us, our teacher can sense shortages or surplusses of energy in our bodies. He even adapts his exercises to our specific needs. Takes a bit of a leap of faith, just like AT.