Sitting in my garden I was with a great Book: "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" by Muriel Barbery. I read there the following little story about a rugby player and his haka (New Zealand war dance):
"Then when the New Zealand players began their haka, I got it. In their midst was this very tall Maori player, really young. I'had my eye on him right from the start, probably because of his height to begin with but then because of the way he was moving. A really odd sort of movement, very fluid but above all very focused, I mean very focused within himself.
Most people, when they move, well, they just move depending on whatevers's around them. At this very moment, as I am writing, Constitution the cat is going by with her tummy dragging close to the floor. This cat has absolutely nothing constructive to do in live and still she is heading towards something, probably an armchair. And you can tell from the way she's moving: she is heading towards.
Mamam just went by in the direction of the door, she's going out shopping and in fact she already is outside, her movement anticipating itself. I don't really know how to explain it, but when we move, we are in a way destructured by our movement towards something; we are both here and at the same time not here because we are already in the process of going elsewhere, if you see what I mean. To stop destructuring yourself, you have to stop moving altogether. Either you move and you're no longer whole, or you're whole and you can't move.
But that player, when I saw him go out onto the field, I could tell there was something different about him. ... Everyone was enthralled by him but no one seemed to know why. Yet it became obvious in the haka. He was moving and making the same gestures as the other players, but while the others' gestures went towards their adversaries and the entire stadium, this players gestures stayed inside him, stayed focused upon him, and that gave him unbelievable presence and intensity.
And so the haka, which is a warrior chant, gained all its strength from him. What makes the strength of a soldier isn't the energy he uses trying to intimidate his opponent by sending him a load of signals, it's the strength he's able to concentrate within himself, by staying centred. That Maori player was like a tree, a great indestructible oak with deep roots and a powerful radiance - everyone could feel it. And yet you also got the impression that the great oak could fly, that it would be as quick as the wind, despite, or perhaps because of, its deep roots."
And that moment I thought of my teacher, doing his Tai Chi Long Form in the middle of 200 people.
Total stillness in the audience. One could hear a needle fall.
The master focused within himself.
Still, like a mountain. Moving, like a big river.
Nothing else to say - that's all.
Thx for your time