Discover Top Posts Tagged with #waigong

Popular Recent

E chi ha detto che gli alberi non si muovono? And who said trees don't move? #training #gongfu #kungfu #neigong #waigong #qigong #meditation #supervillain https://www.instagram.com/p/CfEGFZ2M4ly/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#training #gongfu #kungfu #neigong #waigong #qigong #meditation #supervillain

Lasciare che il nostro "esterno" rimanga o divenga debole e contratto, o semplicemente stupido, è senz'ombra di dubbio il modo migliore per vanificare tutta la pratica "interna" di questo mondo. E anche per farsi decisamente male... letting our "external" remain or become weak and contracted, or just plain stupid, is without a doubt the best way to nullify all the "internal" practice of this world. And also to get seriously hurt ... #training #gongfu #kungfu #waigong #neigong #qigong #meditation #magick #awordfromthewise #supervillain https://www.instagram.com/p/Cev8UxXsavJ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#training #gongfu #kungfu #waigong #neigong #qigong #meditation #magick #awordfromthewise #supervillain

Sarà davvero " Coltivazione" solo quando avrai compreso il bosco e i campi... It will be a true "Cultivation" only when you understand the woods and fields ... #training #neigong #waigong #qigong #gongfu #meditation #magick #countrylife #awordfromthewise #supervillain https://www.instagram.com/p/Cel-0uYMYuM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#training #neigong #waigong #qigong #gongfu #meditation #magick #countrylife #awordfromthewise #supervillain

Dear waigong (part I)

I remember holding my grandpa's hand when I was five years old, being led through migratory Shanghai crowds and safely shielded from tired men on bikes, smoking cigarettes and catcalling at wayward pedestrians, not feeling worried for one second that I could get knocked over or bowled into or sideswiped by any of the impatient strangers littering these unpaved streets. I was always bad with directions, and it took me a good 3 months before I finally memorized the order of turns and number of steps to be traveled down each block before reaching the front gate of our community home. It was only a quarter mile, tops, but it felt like a daunting journey, each time. Distance is all relative to a child.

On some days, he chose to pick me up on his bicycle - and those were the best days. We whizzed past trees and bushes so fast they blurred together into one continuous green film strip around me, dizzying and exhilarating to my young eyes. I used to be obsessed with the thought of having long hair, an obsession sparked by the fact that every year come the tail end of May, as the suffocating humidity of the China summer began rolling in, my grandma would shave my head, convinced that this would help keep me cool. But I was a little girl who wanted hair that whipped in the wind as my grandpa pedaled. He probably rode his bike at a crawling 8-10 miles per hour, tops (I was, after all, precious cargo). But speed is all relative to a child.

Sometimes on weekday mornings he would pull up to the gates of my elementary school and wait for me to clamber down from the makeshift bike seat. (It was a flat wire grid that made my butt ache within seconds of sitting on it, so he took an old sweater and some string and fashioned a seat fit for a queen.) I'd shake my head, not yet, and he'd laugh and pretend to check his watch, even though he knew that we were ten minutes early. We were always ten minutes early. Alright, he'd say, pulling away from the school, just one more time around the block. Three, I'd bargain. Two. We didn't speak, just sat in silence as he took us both in circles, going nowhere but knowingly and purposefully and happily so. Two trips around the block probably took 6 minutes, tops, but this was our hour. Time is all relative, to a child.