An update on my previous post entitled Crouching Fatman Hidden Wasp:
As I sat immobile, nursing my swollen feet, my mind was left to ponder how I was supposed to react to this. Here I am trying to commune with the universe and find some inner peace and along comes this wasp and violently (it really hurt) disrupts my exercise. I mean, sure, I was stepping on his home and blocking him from getting out, but I certainly wasn't being Israeli about it. After all, I pay exorbitantly for the privilege of trampling on that grass. Couldn't he wait until I was done?
The thing is, once you do tai chi outside, it is a totally different experience from practicing inside. It really does feel different (the expression that described the difference best: practicing outside was like eating off fine bone china after having eaten off paper plates). I guess my choice of metaphor kinda explains my waistline.
So, I had to find another place to be outside. But there is something about the proximity of the water, the swaying palms and dancing reeds, and the genteel nature of the Ritz where people elegantly ignore you that gave me little alternative but to go back.
At first, I tried to choose where I practiced carefully, looking for telltale mounds where the wasps had burrowed underground. Then I tried different times of day when I thought they might either be at sleep or out and about taking care of they waspy chores. Eventually, I got so tired of watching the wasps that I gave up and just went out, not caring too much what would happen. And that was when it started to change for me.
The wasps would circle around me so I tried to keep extra still, my feet became lighter on the ground cause I was overly careful about any wasps underneath and I was always watchful of what was happening around me, which took my mind off my form and helped me relax about the movements I was making. All in all, my tai chi improved tremendously and I enjoyed my practice more than ever and I have been given the Native Indian name: dances with wasps