From Tai Chi Plans to Historical Insights: A Personal Reflection

There is an old saying: Want to make God laugh? Make plans.

I think the universe has been laughing at my Tai Chi teaching plans for the past year.

Last November 8th, I completed my training to teach the eight-form Tai Chi for Balance program. I was excited. I had plans. I was going to introduce Qigong and Tai Chi to the SCA and help people discover that these arts are every bit as much a part of our historical period as European martial arts.

Then reality arrived.

My first class was scheduled for January 18th. I got sick and had to trade my scheduled time with someone else. That time wasn’t until April.

I also planned to substitute-teach for another Tai Chi group to gain more experience. But the church hosting the class told me they didn’t want a second substitute instructor because of liability concerns. Perfectly understandable—but another closed door.

Summer arrived, and I hoped outdoor SCA classes would attract new people. Instead, the fighters quite sensibly decided to practice indoors year-round because of the heat. That meant I would be teaching the same three people over and over, with little chance for the class size to grow.

My real goal had always been Lilies War. That was where I hoped to reach the largest audience. But the weather gods had read my teaching schedule and took it personally. First came days of rain, but that often happens. Then came triple-digit heat indexes. At that point, I decided the universe had made its opinion abundantly clear.

By July, my total was four students taught and one demonstration. With that, I decide to stop trying because you feel like you’re pushing on a door that simply won’t open.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Tai Chi or Qigong. Quite the opposite. They work wonderfully for balance, relaxation, breathing, and gentle exercise. The problem is that starting a class from nothing is hard. People who succeed usually have an existing community—a church congregation, a senior center, an independent living facility, a recreation program. They begin with twenty people already gathering in one place. Once a class exists, it grows naturally. I was trying to build one from scratch.

So I’m letting go of being the Tai Chi teacher.

That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on teaching its history or Ming dynasty timeframe.

If I’ve learned anything from my recent dive into developing a Chinese persona, it’s that we in the SCA have barely begun exploring East Asia. Qigong predates Tai Chi by many centuries. Chinese martial arts—the ancestors of what we casually call Kung Fu—are period. They deserve a place in our conversations about pre-1600 history just as much as longswords, rapiers, or wrestling manuals.

I may not be the person leading weekly exercise classes. But I can still teach people that these traditions existed. I can give classes on the history of Asian martial arts before 1600.

I can encourage others who are younger and already have schools, students, or community centers to explore the historical roots of what they teach.

Sometimes the best contribution isn’t being the one who carries the torch the whole distance.

Sometimes it’s simply lighting someone else’s torch.

And that, I think, is a goal worth keeping.

P.S. A few weeks after Lilies ended, the Smithville area uniquely experienced days of flooding.