Tai Chi as a Diagnostic Tool, Reflections and Life Lessons in Love

Reading time: 9 minutes

Image: Mohamed_hassan, Jolly Equilibrium logo edit: Erik Stout

Tai Chi is natural movement. Wind blows without effort, rain falls without difficulty, and water always flows to the lowest point without having to think about it. Both the I Ching (The Book of Changes) and Chinese Taoism are based on these principles and let’s be honest; that doesn't sound too difficult, does it? Just move as you move.

Sure.

I've been in China for six months and should surely know how to tai chi by now. Every time the master comes along and takes me out of a nice tai chi flow, I actually prefer that he lets me muddle along so as to have the idea that I’m doing great. The funny thing is that progress is definitely made, but only not as I had expected, which in turn is based on the illusion that six months of training will bring me on the same level as a master who was pretty much born doing martial arts kicks.

Beyond these expectations, however, tai chi, because it has everything to do with natural balance, turns out to be an incredibly special gauge for my entire state of being.[1] As long as I hear from the master that my shoulders, hips or wrists are not relaxed (while I think they are), I now know that my thoughts are still somewhere other than with the movements and am therefore ‘not there.’ That changes when the movements are performed from a relaxed state, for then the feeling is essentially different and the movement seems to go by itself.

Feeling where there is still tension in the body during tai chi practice can provide information about possible problems or (not yet processed) issues. In addition to being a wonderful and artistic way to stay flexible, strong and fit, tai chi suddenly becomes a valuable diagnostic tool. With that in mind, the feedback from the master, however difficult sometimes to receive, is invaluable. Because the better we learn to read the body, the faster we can find out whether there are stressors and if so, which ones. Seen in that light, physical discomforts and illnesses suddenly become valuable sources of information.

That became relevant when I had to deal with a period of old fashioned low back pain at the end of February. Moreover, a week later I experienced one day with intense headaches and nausea and the low back pain slumbered for well over three weeks. Trial and error have illuminated that these ailments never emerge by themselves, but almost always coincide with one or more factors that push buttons. On closer examination, there were more than expected (read: hoped).

Events never stand alone. In the process of life, one event flows into another and it takes a lot of effort to find out which factors (people or situations) can push our buttons. With me it usually works like this: once a button has been pushed, more buttons will be pushed in the foreseeable future. That's because I'm very adept at circumventing such factors, which usually creates a moment when I start to believe the illusion of having processed all my demons. At such moments I lower my guard and *boom*, another button has been pushed, leaving me perplexed and opening the door for more buttons to be easily pushed.

Under those buttons are deeply rooted beliefs, two of which have already been discussed in Part 6 (I can't take care of myself & whatever I do, it's never good enough anyway). The deep rooting ensures that we often unconsciously act from those convictions, so that we continue to spin in a vicious circle. The hope that the conviction of not being able to take care of myself has been dismantled, turns out once more to be an illusion as soon as my childlike dependency again rears its head.

By “childlike dependency” I literally mean the dependence that a child experiences from parents. As soon as our buttons are pushed, we feel ‘child pain’ and it triggers our reactions learned in childhood; in other words, childlike (childish) behaviour. We go from child pain to being a child again! The deeper that is rooted, the less we are aware that buttons are being pushed and the more subtle the childish desire for security and safety manifests itself in our behaviour.

My co-dependency has long been expressed in pleasing behaviour to anyone who my inner child perceives as a potential caregiver, but only recently I have begun to see the moments (and with what type of people) that behaviour emerges. Unfortunately I often feel that then the pleasing behaviour has already gone too far, so that fear of rejection follows as soon as I want to stop that behaviour, which usually results in a downward spiral. Let’s use recent example to illustrate this.

Through the kung fu academy I met a lady with whom a friendship quickly developed. She lives and works half an hour’s drive from the academy, and at the end of February I allowed myself a week's vacation which I spent with her (also the prospect of a heated apartment was very attractive). That ended up being an incredibly intense week for both of us where buttons were pushed and healing took place on several levels. The conversations were deep and the sex extraordinary and wonderful, though prior to that it was made clear that a ‘traditional’ relationship was not an option.

However, a pattern repeated itself here. The fact that my ex and I broke up in early 2020 didn't mean that my tendency to look for someone to take care of me had been dissolved into thin air. So the search for a lady who wanted to take care of me continued ‘as usual’ under the radar of consciousness, overlooking an important realization until not so long ago.

The desire to be cared for is a childish desire, but as adults we also like to be satisfied intellectually and sexually. These are difficult to merge because in the first case there is a certain degree of inequality between the partners, while in an adult relationship it should be about equality between individuals who can stand on their own feet, particularly emotionally! In the meantime, there is the realization that as long as my childish desire still plays an important role and certain child pains have not yet been processed, the first task should be to find out what it actually means for me to become emotionally mature.

That childlike aspect of my behaviour becomes clear after I share a bed with a lady. Since my childish desire is still active from the unconscious, it’s inevitable that I become intimately involved with ladies who provide care and/or take the lead. My consciousness says it wants mature relationships based on equality, but my unconsciousness still wants to be cared for and guided. Unconsciously, I then consciously look for ladies who, consciously or unconsciously, provide care and lead,[2] because as soon as there is someone who takes me by the hand, I no longer have to be “afraid” that I will die (as a result of the deeply tucked-away conviction of not being able to take care of myself).

Naturally such a situation can never end harmoniously. Either the one who is cared for and led eventually feels locked up in a straitjacket, or the one who cares and leads gets tired of the other’s passivity over time, or both. As long as we, consciously or unconsciously, are still convinced that another person can (and should) solve our unprocessed issues, we say at the beginning of each relationship: “I love you,” and at the end of it: “you can no longer give me what I need,” without actually knowing what we need. We then start looking for a another new ”love “and the whole story starts all over again.[3]

After spending a remarkable week with said lady, I had the nagging feeling that I was in danger of ending up in a straitjacket again. My first reflex is then to push the other person away because so many buttons are pushed that it feels like a system overload. This vicious circle occurred a few times after my divorce and resulted in my actions causing people pain, without that being my intention at all.[4]

This realization coincided with the moment my back went out. Because suddenly it became clear how often my behaviour in the past had not been based on a calmly reflected and mature decision, but was merely the result of buttons that had been pushed. At eighteen I might have turned mature on paper, but often my behaviour was more like the emotional behaviour of children, simply because with every pushed button I regressed back into being a child. As it turned out, there were quite a few buttons.

Over the years I convinced myself that hurting others was something I was incapable of. Yet if that were to happen anyway, it certainly would not have been my intention and therefore the blame could not be placed upon me. This delusion was shattered with the realization described above, and that was such a big button that my back cramped up violently. Suddenly it became clear that I was not the saint I wanted (or ought) to be, and that caused a very heavy stress response.

However, this realization offered an opportunity for healing via another angle, because suddenly I saw the childlike fear from which my tendency to push others away was based. So instead of pushing the lady away, I did what felt most difficult and least ‘natural’: I called her and made my fears negotiable. That felt like facing my demons, because every negative reaction of another is still perceived by my inner child as harsh personal criticism accompanied with the associated fear of rejection. Becoming emotionally mature, however, means, among other things, that I let my inner child(ren) know that they are no longer alone, but that they now have an adult who will never let them down anymore: myself. With that awareness, we picked up the phone.

It became a wonderful, insightful, cathartic and ultimately liberating conversation both her and me.[5] By openly and sincerely sharing and discussing each other's fears, beliefs and expectations, psychological blocks made way for space and freedom of movement. As a result, pushing away was no longer necessary. On the contrary; this paved the way for sincere friendship, because based on mutual respect and love instead of desire and anxiety.

Often we need to do the very things that fear us the most. That’s what we call our demons and includes all those people and situations that we prefer to avoid. By coming into contact with them, we give ourselves the opportunity for reconciliation with our dark side. After all, our vice is as much part of our whole being as our virtue, and reconciliation with it ensures processing, healing, equilibrium, and peace.

Jolly greetings,
Erik Stout

[1] This applies to any form of movement that requires full attention on the body, such as the various martial arts, yoga, qigong, etc.

[2] The principle of unconsciously choosing a partner who has the ungrateful task of solving our child pain is beautifully described by Jan Geurtz in his book ‘Addicted to Love.’

[3] See [2].

[4] After my divorce, there were a few intimate relationships and meetings, each of them with extraordinary, beautiful and loving women. I will always be grateful to them for the time they wanted to spend with me, the lessons I was allowed to learn from (and with) them, and the intensely valuable, joyful, difficult and wonderful moments we shared together.

[5] Already in the week we had spent together, there had been deep and confidential conversations. The basis of trust that had been established made the step to enter into this particular conversation a lot smaller than would otherwise have been the case.

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