( First published in Momentum Magazine, Summer 2001)

Eight years ago, I was called to explore physical movement. It could have been the Bruce Lee movies, or the stories about Shaolin Temple monks, or the Buddhist books about peaceful warriors, or maybe it was intuition (I'm not sure how these things work). All I know is this: at the age of nineteen I became determined to delve into the mysteries of my ability to move.

On a hunch I took up Tai-Chi, which proved a perfect place to start. My teacher, Master Tong, studied under the greatest masters of China. He taught his students traditional Tai-Chi movement theory. This included the use of circular and spiral motion, the body's five bows, the stacking of muscle/body structure, the raising of spirit and focus, and many other concepts and techniques. I became a believer in the intelligence and practicality of Tai-Chi theory.

Although I practiced intensively and learned a lot, I eventually longed for something more upbeat. Since then, I've trained in Arnis, dance, Wushu, and Capoeira. Applying Tai-Chi theory always helped me progress quickly, and each art taught me something fundamental about movement. Still, none of them were quite what I was looking for.

I finally found "it" outside a dance party in Robert's Creek, where I watched a group of fire spinners jamming. As I watched, I realized that my entire history of movement practice, plus that of several past lives, had been leading me to spinning Poi (fire chains). I don't know how I knew. I just knew. It was like God opened the skies and said, "Take up poi. You' ll understand later."

I was soon practicing with a pair of rolled up socks and shoelaces. To my delight, I discovered that poi are amazing movement exploration tools. They are guides. They are teachers. They are like Yoda, only smaller and on strings.

You see, in Tai-Chi you can mimic your teacher's form with non-connected movement instead of the more powerful inner-circles. You may think you're doing what your teacher is doing, but you're not. This sometimes makes it difficult to improve. Poi act as an external manifestation, and magnification, of those inner circles. If you can't keep the circles straight within a given region of your sphere of movement, you don't yet understand how to extend yourself into that region with full control or awareness. As all movement is created by an interplay of body/energy structure that extends from your hands to your feet, straightening the circles re-stacks that structure from the ground up.

For me, the whole process is like carving a rough piece of wood into a sphere. Bumps and corners make movement awkward and limited. As the block becomes spherical, movement becomes smooth and centered. The rhythmical, circular motion of Poi proves ideal for sanding away bumps. Fire helps further by raising focus and spirit (Tai-Chi prerequisites to good practice). Practice enough, and you develop a tangible sense for movement and space that seems to exist beyond your body. You begin to literally feel the space within your movement sphere. Getting even more metaphysical, the motion of poi is like that of a solar system or atom. The more spherical you become, the more you tune into patterns that lie at the center of all matter and energy. That's where things get Jedi-ish.

At any level, the results of practicing poi extend well beyond spinning them. I'm enjoying leaps of physical ability across the board, as well as a revived sense of play, and an increase in discipline and self-esteem. Poi have opened dimensions for me. I highly recommend exploring them.