Jasper Finds His Chi
When my 42-year old daughter and only child Eleanor became pregnant, I rejoiced with her and her long-time Brit partner Andrew. Plus, I took partial credit because the previous summer, I had given away her jubilee umbrella stroller. I acquired the stroller when Eleanor was one year old on a trip to London during queen’s jubilee year and saved it for many years ‘just in case.’ Getting rid of that U.K umbrella stroller had somehow made room for this Brit-American baby to come.
My challenge became the gift: what to take the baby when I traveled to London for the arrival. Having grown up in the era of grandmothers’ being able to knit, quilt, sew, needlepoint and crochet, I regretted not being able to do any handwork. No hand-sewn mittens or cuddly hats or crib quilts. During my teenage years, a friend of my mother’s tried to teach me to sew, but it was an unsuccessful effort, the friend sadly telling my mother that I lacked fine motor skills. But I excelled in gross motor movement. Somehow, though, I didn’t think the baby would appreciate having one of my old basketball trophies or long-distance running medals as a gift. I talked endlessly to other grandmothers and prospective grandmothers who were quilting, tatting, and knitting away with considerable enthusiasm and an abundance of fine motor skill.
As the time for delivery drew near, the challenge intensified for deciding what I could possibly bring to that precious and special newborn grandchild. But then, with a burst of insight, I knew. I knew what but not how.
As I’d aged and become increasingly aware of fall risk, I researched balance—how to maintain balance, how not to lose my grip in elder years. I studied what gerontologists recommended, and there was a surprisingly clear consensus: the mind-body practice of tai chi. Some gerontologists described tai chi a ‘capsule’ for maintaining balance. Nothing could provide a guarantee to prevent falls, but tai chi allowed for the practice of balance, an approach to self-care.
I enrolled in a beginner-beginner class at the local art center and found myself, along with other senior beginners, learning the slow and purposeful movements of tai chi from a Master teacher. As an added bonus, I appreciated that tai chi is a martial art, and class members noticed a certain glint in my eyes as I practiced.
After several series of beginner-beginner classes, I bravely moved on to the beginner 24-step short form class at the teachers’ studio. Over several years, I learned to part the horse’s mane, repulse monkeys, brush knees, make a single whip, grasp the sparrows tail, and spread the white crane’s wings. After one of the classes, I spoke with my teacher about the gift for my soon-to-arrive grandchild as we looked together on his wall at the Chinese character of chi. He explained that the pictures in the character showed tea, cooking on a stove over a fire, with steam rising up.
“How appropriate,” he said, “for your British grandchild.”
How appropriate indeed. And I didn’t have to give the chi—Jasper, my grandson-to-be, already had it. Within. So, along with my improving balance, I took with me to London my unconditional love and this story, “Jasper Finds His Chi.”
Lyn Fraser, MFA ’97, teaches in the New Dimensions program for Colorado Mesa University. Her publications include short fiction (American Literary Review, MidWest Review); a mystery novel (Mainly Murder Press); and two books on the psalms (Morehouse, Paulist Press).