By Cathy Hird

"As we begin," the Tai Chi instructor says, "stand with your feet parallel, shoulder width apart. Make sure your weight is centered."

At this moment, I realize how hard it is to stand. There are so many angles for the rest of the body even with both feet on the ground. My weight is more to the right or the left, and I have to move my hips sideways to find the centre. Then, I find that my weight is back on my heels, or forward on my toes not the centre of the foot. So many ways to be off balance when standing.

Even once the weight seems centred on my feet, I am not yet straight. My shoulders are slumped forward, and I bend a little at the waist. I lift the shoulders, roll them back, look straight ahead and feel taller. But now I am almost on my toes. I have to settle back onto my feet, centre myself again. Perhaps now I am ready for the opening exercise, the standing jongs.

Standing is hard. When we fidget, we are told to stand still. We'll get a pin stuck in us by the person who is trying to adjust a dress or a suit to fit properly unless we stand still. But how long can we hold that one position?

If we let our back bend, our posture is curved. "Stand straight and tall," we are told. So we pull in our navel, settle our shoulders back, look straight ahead. We feel taller. Perhaps, we are taller. But we may feel stiff. Relaxing into a straight standing posture, that is hard.

Sometimes standing straight is not tall enough. We stand up on our tippy toes to reach the top shelf, to adjust a picture on the wall, to pick an apple. But standing with our weight forward on the ball of our foot with only our toes to balance us is precarious. Unless we are a ballerina with toe shoes, we cannot stay in that position even though we gain inches of height.

If we have to stand up for ourselves in the face of an argument, we need a centred position. We settle back with our whole foot on the ground. Arms folded we spread our feet to give us a strong stance as we face the person we want to argue with. Hands on our hips we defend our position. Hands clenched into fists, we are ready for a fight. Arms at our sides, we look less aggressive, but we will stand up for what is right, stand against what is wrong.

Sometimes there will be someone we want to stand behind. If we are encouraging a friend or a child to try something new, we stand behind them, letting them take the lead, but showing we are there to support them if they need us.

If we are defending someone else, we stand by them. We take a place at their side, not in front and not behind, but right beside them so they can lean on our shoulder or just our presence.

It can be hard to stand alone. We feel isolated and separated. We feel vulnerable. But then, on a clear night with stars filling the sky overhead, standing alone can clear our spirit. On a rocky lookout, seeing the brilliant colours of October, standing alone can open us to the world and to ourselves.

Standing is a thing in and of itself. It is not just a prelude to movement. It is a place. It is a position. It is the posture where we find balance. We need to be balanced when we walk or dance, but first we find that balance where we stand.

In this busy moving world of ours, it is in standing we find stillness. A poem by John Milton reminds us of this. He was an active ambitious man whose busy life was taken from him when he went blind. He asks if God will judge him for not serving with all his talents now that he cannot see. He is restless himself as he is confined in this imposed darkness. He seeks to learn stillness and a new kind of contentment as he reminds himself, "They also serve who only stand and wait."
Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister and writer living near Walters Falls.