by Last Updated on June 12, 2025 by Avia
I didn’t set out to become a tai chi devotee. I just wanted some peace and clarity…something resembling sanity, honestly. My whole tai chi practice began with group meditation classes in Buffalo, led by a woman who, to this day, lives rent-free in my head as the embodiment of original thought, spiritual sovereignty, and just plain awesomeness. Her name was Anne.
Anne was an effervescent, twinkly-eyed, mature woman who could fill a room with laughter and grounded grace at the same time. She was like a giggling Buddha meets Jedi Master hybrid. Her classes weren’t just meditations…they were cosmic reset buttons disguised as Wednesday night group sits. You’d leave feeling like your molecules had been rearranged for the better.
After a few years in her elite meditation circle, where we talked about everything from breathwork to quantum fields, I learned that Anne also taught tai chi. And not just any tai chi. She taught something called Shyun Style Tai Chi, also known as Eight Step Preying Mantis Tai Chi (yes, “preying” in this case is spelled with an “e”). I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but when Anne said it, it sounded like mystical kung fu poetry. I was in.
Enter the Church Basement: Let the Journey Begin
So I showed up for tai chi practice. In a dusty, chilly church basement in Buffalo, with concrete walls and questionable acoustics, Anne ran her tai chi classes like sacred ceremony meets stand-up comedy. She had spent time training with a master sifu, Kevin Loftus (who, in 1996, was chosen by Grandmaster Shyun to be one of the disciples of the Eight Step Preying Mantis system in Buffalo). Anne absorbed the postures and movements as well as embracing the deep philosophy and essence of tai chi. She didn’t just teach movements…she transmitted wisdom.
We learned in sets. Shyun Style Tai Chi has four of them. They’re creatively named: Set 1, Set 2, Set 3, and then the holy grail…The Sword Set. You read that right. A sword set. I mean, how cool is that?
Every set was a dance of circular grace…fluid, complex, mesmerizing. Nothing felt forced. Even the breath was choreographed. Tai chi taught me that breathing while moving is a kind of natural therapy, a somatic spell that rewires your nervous system in real time.
The names of the movements alone were enough to keep me enchanted: “Needle to Bottom of Sea.” “White Crane Swallows the Moon.” Honestly, I would’ve paid the price of admission just to hear Anne say those names aloud.
Tai chi is often misunderstood. People think it’s just for elderly folks in parks moving in slow motion. And yes, that is yang style tai chi…a powerful form in its own right. But Shyun Style is a different creature. Rooted in Eight Step Preying Mantis kung fu, this style blends martial prowess with healing grace.
It’s both gentle and deceptively fierce. Every motion spirals, circles, loops, and lemniscates. It’s almost like drawing invisible mandalas with your limbs. I rather thought it was like sacred geometry for your soul. The circular patterns are visually poetic, serving as metaphysical metaphors. Life isn’t a straight line. Neither is tai chi, and I totally dig that scene.
The beauty of the practice is its duality. It’s simultaneously martial and meditative. Gentle yet powerful. Grounded and ethereal. It’s like being fully in your body and completely outside it at the same time. Whoa! Talk about a consciousness level-up!
The Benefits: Beyond Words
Let’s talk perks. Not because I want to sell you on tai chi, but because I can’t not mention them.
- Flexibility: Even now, decades later, I can bend, stretch, twist, and contort like a bendy straw…and that’s thanks to tai chi.
- Breathing: The way I breathe changed forever. It became conscious, slow, and powerful. That alone lifted me out of a serious depression.
- Mood: Within minutes of practicing tai chi, my mood shifts. It’s like clearing the browser cache of your soul.
- Focus: You want superior focus? This is moving meditation. The kind that gently yanks your mind out of the chaos and anchors it to grace.
- Comradery: I bonded with my fellow students over giggles, grace, and shared sweat. Most of us also sat in Anne’s meditation circle, so there was a natural kinship.
Anne’s Kung Fu Comment
Anne used to joke that I approached my tai chi practice like a kung fu warrior. One time, after a particularly intense session where I nearly took out a folding chair with an overly-committed ‘White Crane,’ she laughed and said…
“You know, Avia, watching you do tai chi is like watching Bruce Lee at a poetry slam. Calm down, grasshoppah!”
I suppose I was pretty intense (I usually am). Hyper-focused, all in, zoned out but dialed in. Tai chi consumed me in the best way. I didn’t dabble…I dove headfirst. Even though I don’t practice with the same discipline today, every time I return to it, the benefits are instant. Like returning to an old friend who always knows exactly what you need.
How Tai Chi Changed My Life for the Better
Let me put it this way: Tai chi practice didn’t just help me stretch better…it helped me live better. Before I found tai chi, I was stuck in a fog. Mentally heavy, emotionally sluggish, spiritually disconnected. Practicing tai chi regularly gave me tools that I didn’t even know I needed. It sharpened my mind, steadied my emotions, and made me more present in my body.
I’m not exaggerating when I say tai chi lifted me out of a pretty serious depression. When everything else felt flat and flavorless, tai chi gave me color and texture again. It was the kind of therapy that doesn’t come in a bottle or on a couch. The breathwork alone could knock the gloom out of me in just a few sessions.
And on a deeper, soul-level note, tai chi gave me a way to feel connected. To the earth. To my body. To the breath. To something bigger and more graceful than me. That kind of connection?
That’s healing. That’s sacred. That’s the kind of shift that sticks with you.
The SWORD I Never Wielded
Alas, I eventually moved too far away to keep attending Anne’s classes. That means I never learned the fourth set…the fabled Sword Set. I’ll admit, it still haunts me. But what I did learn has carried me for over 30 years, and it shows up in my body, mind, and spirit daily. I’ve kept the movements alive, even if I never graduated to sword-wielding tai chi ninja.
What is Shyun Style Tai Chi?
Let’s zoom out a bit. Shyun Style Tai Chi was developed by Grandmaster Shyun Kwong Long, a martial artist trained in traditional Eight Step Preying Mantis kung fu. This system incorporates the principles of traditional Chinese medicine, soft internal energy (chi), and powerful martial arts application. Unlike some tai chi forms that focus purely on softness and flow, Shyun Style infuses each motion with a martial lineage and deep philosophical backbone.
It includes hand forms, weapons forms (yes…swords, staffs, fans! LOVE!), qigong, and even push-hands practice. The movements are performed in short, refined patterns that emphasize stability, spiral energy, and breath control.
Why Tai Chi Deserves Respect
Tai chi isn’t just some relaxing stretch routine. It’s a martial art. In the right hands, it can disable an attacker as efficiently as any hard-style technique…but it does so with grace. It is both art and defense. Both healing and humbling.
When I practiced seriously, I’d feel like I was training in slow-motion superpowers. And let’s be real…there’s something almost sacred about practicing a martial art that heals you while training you to protect yourself. It makes you feel whole.
Gearing Up with Grace
If you’re inspired to explore a tai chi practice of your own (or any martial arts or fitness journey), having the right gear helps. Luckily, tai chi doesn’t require a bunch of accessories, but I highly recommend checking out Elite Sports for high-quality, comfortable training apparel. Whether you’re flowing through tai chi, kicking into kickboxing, or just want to look like a grounded warrior while running errands, they’ve got you covered.
Parting Thoughts from the Circle
Committing to a tai chi practice turned out to be one of the most transformative choices of my life. I didn’t start it to get fit. I started it to feel better. And I did. I still do. It’s moving meditation, circular magic, sacred geometry in motion.
You don’t have to become a master to reap the benefits. You just have to show up. Preferably in a chilly church basement with someone like Anne, but anywhere will do.
So here’s to all the White Cranes, all the Needles at the Bottom of the Sea, and all the Anne-like teachers who change our lives in ways we’ll never be able to repay.
May your movements be fluid, your breath be deep, and your sword (real or metaphorical) be ever within reach.
Mighty brightly,
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P.S. If you’re standing still while moving… if you’re fully present while totally transported… if you feel more you than ever while doing something slow and strange…congratulations. You’re doing tai chi.
