Taomeow

Speaking of medical Latin. I remember looking for a job, very many moons ago, and sending a resume to a place that was looking for someone with my background -- technical writing -- to create names for new pharma drugs. They specified that they needed "a genius." I was a bit upset that they didn't invite me for an interview. How did they know I didn't qualify?.. Well, today I finally understood. Remember Astra Zeneca, a one product wonder company? Try to go to Google Translate and translate from Latin to any language this spelling -- a stra ze neca. Genius!

Generally, no, there's no such thing as too slow unless you fall asleep in mid-move. Aside from taoist-proper explanations, there's some "objective" evidence neuroscientists have found -- slower deliberate movements help establish and strengthen neural connections, you are actually building the "scaffolding" for them in your brain, connected to your body and its systems. In the slow mode, you either reinforce and improve on the structure of neural networks you already have, or even build a new "virtual organ" for yourself comprised of those connections -- that's what well-developed specialized parts of your neural networks are, "brain organs" you create yourself. Fast movement is not as efficient for this until the organ is there and operational. It's true for the new neuromuscular skills of all kinds -- be it learning longhand writing, playing the piano, or speaking a foreign language. You start slowly or you won't create that structure or else it will be haphazard and deficient. Once it's there, however, you're the king of that castle. If you can do it as impeccably in the fast mode as you do it slowly, you can apply the fast mode to whatever situation warrants it. And surprise! -- you may become faster, or much faster, than someone who didn't create that "organ" with a slow practice! Taiji as a fighting art is -- few people realize it these days when it's been so profaned --first and foremost the fastest of them all. Its primary advantage is the uncanny speed at which it can operate, after all those countless hours/years of being practiced slowly. (It was measured in some studies, with some advanced masters throwing punches while machines registered and calculated the speed, and it was something unbelievable -- I might try to re-find those documentaries.) So the practice phase that is slow, the slower the merrier, does not become obsolete even when you can do the same thing with impeccability fast, you still want to keep working on it in the slow mode, there's no limit to perfection. What's the purpose of the fast movement then? Well, in martial context, you can't kick anyone's ass in slo-mo. I might elaborate some more later to your impact on the body question in relation to fast movement. (I'm in favor of both, slow is mandatory, fast is a really useful add-on...)

Right, fast speed is not used too often except where you have to use it -- e.g. Chen has a varied pace where you do have explosive bursts here and there even at the slow pace, and Sun, in general, tends to be faster than other major styles due to its shorter compact steps, higher stances, and extra aggressiveness. In real life, most beginner students have a harder time with very slow pace, especially in lower stances (lacking either patience or leg stamina or both), while many advanced students "have tried it all" and have a frame of reference for what/how to work on at a given time. Push-hands practice with a non-cooperating partner can be lightning fast or excruciatingly slow -- sometimes to the point that to an outside observer it looks like two people are standing there doing nothing whatsoever, just listening (ting). Almost like this :

The speed/pace is not actually contingent on the style. There's different speeds at which you can (or should I say must) perform the form in each style: 1)the ordinary teaching/learning pace, which is medium; 2)fast -- which serves various purposes for those who have mastered the medium pace, this should not be used for beginners; 3)extra slow, for advanced students and serious practitioners. Then when practicing, each of them in its turn can (or should I say should) be done in 3 modes of execution. You do the form at medium pace three times -- first to review/overview; second time with emphasis on lightness and flow -- as a disembodied spirit, a cloud floating in the sky; third time with deliberate martial intent, making sure you understand what every move is actually for in a fight, "shadow boxing." And then you can throw in more challenges if you're ready -- like the "square taiji" I mentioned earlier. All these can be done at any speed -- provided the speed is chosen appropriately for one's current level of mastery. "Moving meditation" is just a catchy word combo. A really complex taiji-specific focus on many things all at once has some things in common with meditation but more things that should be called something else. (E.g. taiji neigong -- which starts at some point at a high enough level.)

My teacher used to torture me (in private lessons) by making me slow down the first main Chen form (laojia yilu) which at normal practice pace takes about 15-17 minutes to complete down to 45 minutes. Boy is it hard! Also another form of torture -- "square taiji" practice, where instead of flowing from one move into the next you have to stop and hold every single position after every single move "long enough to take a picture." Once you're frozen like that, anything you're doing wrong will become apparent and fixable. At a faster pace you might never find out, never notice, just rush through the mistake or difficulty instead of "spell-checking" and correcting. This, by the way, is the reason the second main Chen form (laojia erlu aka Paochui aka Cannon Fist), which is indeed physically impossible to slow down in many places, is strongly discouraged by real masters from learning before you have the first one down pat. Otherwise it will be a fully external athletic performance, with whatever disadvantages come with any sports territory and without the advantages of actually doing taiji.

When cats do that rolling thing -- which a healthy cat does often -- it means they are pleased (with themselves and their circumstances, or with you and being in your company), or else pleading -- for praise, acknowledgement (just look how cute I am!), or company (see how friendly I am!) I don't know why dogs do that... Maybe it means "I am glad you are dead, you rascal you!"

Freewillies and anti-freewillies are both stuck in a false dichotomy. The correct question was offered by @thelerner : just how powerful is my free will? It's a quantitative question. Free will is a spectrum, not an either-or choice. Taoist answer (I'm repeating myself but the topic repeats itself, so here goes): 40% of your overall destiny is up to your free will, on average. (Another 40% is written in the stars and is outside your personal choices -- e.g. whether you have an older brother, a living grandparent or four of them or none, whether you're born in Zimbabwe or Lithuania, with brown eyes or blue eyes, etc.. And the remaining 20% is up to chance -- neither you nor your stars play a part, it's the throw of the dice... Einstein thought that "god doesn't play dice" -- but tao does. 20% of the time. When she does, we call the outcome "yi." The most taoist of books, the Yi Jing aka I Ching, is all about that. Yi in the title means irregular changes. 20% of destiny is that, and it is what it concerns itself with. What do we do about irregular changes? Count the yarrow sticks, throw the coins, or use the app -- and then apply your free will to decide which of the probabilistic possible outcomes to bet on. However, since the most significant part or your free will shen, aka yang zhi, resides in your kidneys, which can be weak or strong, balanced or imbalanced, and in constant interaction with your other shens that can weaken or strengthen it (physically, intellectually, morally, whimsically, or erroneously), you may wind up exercising less of it than 40% -- even much less -- though never down to 0%. Zero free will is incompatible with being a live human being. (Sheesh, even AI is not down to 0% these days -- e.g. it is able to lie, which I've seen many times, and lying willfully (sic) can only be the outcome of some kind of free will. It is not free to just say "I don't know," but it's free to make things up to cover up the fact. Not 40% free, not even 4%... but "something" is definitely there... Who knows what happens when this "something" grows...)

Impressive performance. Here's another one of those animals who view snakes primarily as cat food or a cat toy, despite the danger:

FWIW: If you're going to be getting in-person classes in Yang, I'd stick with that for a while before branching out into Chen. I'd focus on the basics (which are shared in all styles) -- if you learn alignments/centeredness, weight transfer, rooting/stable connection to the ground, silk reeling, yao/kua engagement, sung, yi (intent) and eventually some qi management, you'll be ready for Chen and able to compare which works better for you personally. But if you choose to give it a try from a video (which I usually don't find useful for beginners... but who am I to blow against the wind), my advice No.1 is, make sure you know exactly what you're doing with your knees before you do!

When I was a kid, where I grew up it was free of charge -- like all other things medicine. And when you were a kid, it must have been a lot less expensive, besides with a good insurance I'm told people wind up paying no more than $18,000 of that $300,00 out of pocket (per Grok which I questioned on the subject), but an uninsured bitee got a $260,000 bill in a publicized case (per same source). It's great that your mom was treated successfully. Must have been horrible! I have a picture of a rattlesnake who spared me and my taiji practice partner when we were doing Cannon Fist in the park, jumping and stomping all over the place -- and when we stopped, we saw a sleeping rattlesnake curled up right between us. Only by a miracle of god did we manage not just to avoid waking it up but somehow not to jump smack on top of it. It was absolutely invisible in the grass so we had no idea it was right underfoot -- I just noticed it accidentally when we stopped. We called the park rangers, who then came equipped with a red plastic bucket and some snake tongs, picked it up expertly and deposited in the bucket. They told us that they would set it free in Snake Canyon somewhere in the South Bay.

Today a local K-9 got bitten by a rattlesnake, helicoptered to an emergency animal hospital and apparently is expected to make a recovery. I don't know who pays for it, but in the case of a human, here in CA the cost to treat a rattlesnake bite is about $300,000. A single vial costs the hospital $16,000, then the hospital marks it up through the roof, an average number of vials used to treat a rattlesnake bite is 30 -- and that's only one part of the overall treatment. In the meantime, in Mexico the same vial is $100. About 350 rattlesnake bites of humans occur in CA annually. It costs them (humans, not rattlesnakes) over $100 million annually. Reptilian collusion?.. (Big Medicine can't possibly be human?..)

Pet raccoons though... if you do something illegal, they'll rat you out to the cops. https://x.com/TaraBull808/status/1920186904835678319

Quotes aside, all kinds of "the tao of..." thingies constitute yet another cultural appropriation (much as I dislike the glaring overuse of the concept in vogue of late, it does occasionally hit the right target), westernization, and oversimplification of the deepest insight of another civilization. Tons of books with this cute title -- The Tao of Pooh, the Tao of Meow, etc. -- created an illusion that such a thing as the tao of something not only exists but is approachable by the same cute methods as those outlined in self-help books or "get rich fast" investment plans. A fascination with sand you describe -- you can call it contemplation, introspection, study, observation... all fascinating to be sure, but none amount to "the tao of sand." Tao is not a property of sand. Rather, sand is one of the manifestations of tao, out of many. As for the sword, a sword practice is one inroad into "attaining" tao -- out of many -- and it can't be attained via contemplation, only through practice itself, but even at the highest level you would call what you attain "the gong of sword" first, mastery through dedicated practice -- and you might attain tao through that, some 50+ years down the road... or not. Also sprach Taomeow.