Listening To The Silent Grammar Of Being

The silent grammar of being,

Listening through Tai Chi.

Before any word was spoken,

There was being.

Before thought declared I am,

There was the quiet pause of existence.

You can feel it now if you turn inward,

Like a faint hum beneath the ribs,

A warmth behind the breath.

It asks for nothing.

It carries no story,

No ambition,

No past,

No future.

This is the language before words,

A conversation between breath and space,

Between weight and balance.

It speaks through your body,

Through the bones,

Through the muscle and gant,

Through the slow arc of each inhale.

Sometimes when the body begins to move in its own rhythm,

Like in the Tai Chi state,

You can feel that same hum traveling through form.

It's even thought and no technique.

It's awareness finding shape.

You sense a subtle continuity,

Like the body's wearing,

The breath guiding and the awareness expanding,

Like light through water.

Each gesture feels inevitable,

As if it had already been written in the air before you moved.

In those moments,

You are not doing Tai Chi.

Tai Chi is happening through you.

It is the universe breathing itself.

A dialogue between the visible and the unseen,

Between motion and stillness,

Between the human and the more than human.

In that rhythm,

There is a timeless instant,

Which is an eternity folded inside a single breath.

That is where you meet the I am.

Not as a definition,

But as a quiet certainty of being itself.

You don't need to name it or claim it.

It simply is.

You only need to feel it living itself through you.

That is the most ancient language of all.