Yesterday, I wrote part one of the unexpected long-term benefits of Taiji with a fair bit of meandering in between actual points. That’s how my brain works, and it’s not something I care to change. Things are connected, man. That’s just the way it is.
I mentioned that I fell the other day. This is not unusual for me–or rather, it was not unusual for me back in the day. Now, I don’t fall nearly as much as I used to (or bump into things), and when I do, I don’t take as much damage. I will say, though, that yesterday, as I was eating, it hurt. I could not figure out why until I realized that I probably bit hard as I fell, which made my teeth hurt. Weirdly, though, it was on the left side, not the right. I say weirdly because the scrapes I have are on the right side. But it’s possible that I just bite more heavily on my left side than right side in general.
Here is another unexpected benefit: I have an ass now. Not a big one, mind you, but a noticeable one. I’m excited because I had no junk in the trunk prior to practicing Taiji. Hey, I’m Asian. We’re not usually gifted with big, juicy asses. Then again, we usually don’t have big honkers, either, and mine are huge. When I complained about it to my mother, she said that her grandmother had had big boobs–liek Double Ds. Which, for Taiwanese women thirty years ago, would be huge.
I mourned my lack of ass, to be honest. I would look at J-Lo and be consumed by lust. Er, envy. Also lust, but in this case, envy is more pertinent. I had no cheeks to clap, much to my dismay. After many years of Taiji practice, I noticed as I looked in the mirror that I actually had an ass! Not a full one as I said above, but an actual ass! I mentioned it excitedly to Ian and he said very diffidently that he had noticed it the last time we had seen each other.
I also was giddy when I told my teacher about it, and she laughed heartily. She thought it was hilarious, and I told her that she should advertise it as one of the benefits of Taiji. She thought it was probably the Golden Roosters (basically, marching in place, but in a Taiji kind of way and stepping backwards as you do), which I do every day. It’s high and tight (my ass, I mean), and I’m irdordinately proud of it.
Then, there are the mental health benefits that are more intangible, but equally positive. One is–ok, look. I have to go over a physical benefit first before going onto the mental health equivalent. Before I started studying Taiji, I hated crowds, noises, and trying to worm my way through said crowds that were filled with noises. I realize now, a decade-and-a-half later that there are neurospicy reasons for that, but at the time, I was just miserable when I was in such situations.
Now, well, I still hate loud, constant noises. But I can slip my way through crowds by finding the gaps and oozing into them. I hate crowds for a different reason now, but at least I can navigate them.
It’s hard to explain these benefits to people because they all just kind of happened. I didn’t deliberately try to get better at being in crowds or, and this has to do with the mental benefits of Taiji,
As I’ve said in the past, I do not have a good relationship with my parents. It was, quite frankly, awful when I was in my twenties for various reasons. It reached a point that talking to them on the phone made me very depressed, and I would have a hard time doing anything for days after. This is not hyperbole, by the way.
I would try to hold myself back and just say the minimum possible to get the conversation over with, but I had a hard time keeping my mouth shut. Then, we would get in an argument (with either my mother or my father), and I would feel bad about whatever we were arguing about as well as hate myself for falling into the trap again.
With the hepl of Taiji, I was able to start…not setting up boundaries so much as disengaging as much as possible. As a result, I was able to tolerate the conversations much better.
I know this sounds sad to hear, but being detached from my parents was the most I could hope for at that time. If I could manage not to get ensnared in their bullshit, that was a win for me. Yes, I still felt a lowkey depression as I talked to them, but at least I did not want to walk off the nearest cliff.
This was Taiji, but for mental betterment, not physical. The ability that made me more able to slip through a crowd was the same that helped me slip through the quagmire that was a conversation with either of my parents.
My teacher emphasizes the mental health benefits quite ofen. As she is fond of saying, the chances I’ll get in a fight is slim. The chances that I’ll have to deal with mental health issues or difficulties in relationships is almost 100%.
Now that my parents are on their last journey on this earth, I have had to use my mental Taiji even more when I’m talking with them. My father has severe dementia and my mother is his primary (almost sole) caretaker. They are both in their eighties and in failing health. Ever since my medical crisis, I’ve struggled again with talking to them. Ironically, not my father as much because I just agree with whatever he says. Which I had a hard time doing when I was younger. Now that he has dementia, though, I am more able to let it go.
My mother, on the other hand, I saw a very sobering side of her when they were last here. She made it very clear that she chose my father over me, I knew that intuitively and have known that since I was in my twenties, but to have her verify it for me as I was recovering from dying, well, that was another thing altogether. Ever since, I’ve had a hard time detaching. Taiji wasn’t helping me.
What did help? Again, this is going to sound sad, but thinking of my parents simply as two old people who were in a difficult situation who needed compassion did the trick. If I think of them as my parents, I get incandescent with rage. I have to depersonalize it and then I can feel some compassion.
I put this down to Taiji as well. Taiji tells you to pivot and do something else if what you are doing isn’t working. It’s not wedded to doing what you’re doing at the moment. It’s also reactive as in you take what is given to you and then redirect it. That’s what I’ve been doing, mentally, and it really helps. When I’m not able to do it, then I get reeled back into the morass once again.
I’m done for the day. More tomorrow.