My mother worked in a state-owned cookware factory in China.
For the first forty years of her life, she had what was supposed to be a secure, lifelong job. That was the promise many people of her generation grew up believing in: work hard, keep your position, and the job would be there until retirement.
Then, in 1992, that certainty suddenly disappeared.
At the age of 40, after working for the same state-owned enterprise for more than two decades, my mother was “off-the-duty”—a polite expression used at the time for what was, in effect, being laid off.
I was young, but I remember the change in her.
She had always been someone who talked easily and laughed a lot. But for a long time afterward, she became quiet. The atmosphere at home was heavy.
Then something changed.
I don’t remember exactly when it started. One day, my mother began going to the park in the morning with some friends. They practiced a slow, graceful form of movement called Tai Chi.
Little by little, I saw my mother come back to life.
She started reading books about Tai Chi. She watched old VCDs of Tai Chi demonstrations and practiced what she learned every morning in the park. Eventually, she completed the training and qualification to teach Tai Chi in community education.
And then she became a Tai Chi teacher herself.
I still remember the first time I really watched her practicing in the park.
It was a sunny morning. She moved slowly among the other people in the park, completely absorbed in what she was doing.
I didn’t really understand what she was doing.
I didn’t know about weight shifting. I didn’t know about alignment, relaxation, or the relationship between movement and breathing. I certainly didn’t understand the traditional ideas behind Tai Chi.
But I could see something.
She looked at ease.
She looked sincere and present, and—most importantly—she seemed to enjoy herself again.
Years later, I learned about the concept of Qi. Later still, I began learning the Tai Chi movements from my mother myself.
That became another long story.
Looking back now, I realize that my mother was my first Tai Chi teacher long before I understood what she was teaching me.
She didn’t give me a detailed explanation of weight distribution or body alignment.
She gave me something more basic: an example of what it looked like to move slowly, patiently, and with ease.
And perhaps that was the first thing I learned from Tai Chi.
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