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Outside Magazine, April 2005
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Bodywork: Martial Artist
The Chi in Me (cont.)

EVEN SO, I WAS SKEPTICAL. Moving with patience and relaxation is not my forte, and I wondered how poses with names like Part the Wild Horse's Mane could turn me into a competitive singles player. I needn't have worried. At my first weekly hourlong lesson last spring, English watched me whack a hundred balls over the net, then suggested that we radically overhaul my form to enhance my chi. "When you have awareness of proper technique," he explained, "you can shut off your brain and let the energy circulate freely." In other words, you won't think or strategize; you'll just flow.

Accordingly, English and I spent the next month modeling my tennis strokes on tai chi postures. The goal was for me to move different parts of my body in opposing directions at the same time to accumulate energy in my core, and then release it in a smooth, coordinated blast of strength. English called this "spiral power" and explained that it is the essence of all movement.

After months of spastically practicing my postures, I'd begun to incorporate spiral power into my muscle memory, and my chi was officially flowing. I knew I'd tapped into it—not just because my shots rocketed deep and hard to the opposite baseline but because of how I felt: smooth and liquid, my whole body flowing through each swing.

Actual tennis matches, however, were another matter. I was still losing. Granted, my strokes were more consistent, but I still choked easily and often under pressure. It was time to work on my head game. Happily, the path to mental focus was relatively straightforward—as simple, in fact, as breathing.

"Breathing helps you quiet the dialogue in your mind and connects your mind to your body," said English. "From this intent, the chi begins to flow." The challenge was to switch off my brain—and its fixation on external goals like actually winning a point—and concentrate on my breath. "Instead of trying to beat your opponent," English advised, "be unbeatable."

It may sound hokey, but the mental shift worked. At my next match, I practiced inhaling when my opponent hit the ball and exhaling when I shot it back. This easy routine kept me immersed in each point and brought a welcome sense of calm to my game. After two long sets, I was so detached from the outcome that I barely realized I'd won the match.



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