Training Nonviolent Power in Times of Uncertainty and Why Tai Chi Matters Right Now
- 22 hours ago
- 6 min read
Jamee Culbertson integrates Taoist practices, the Alexander Technique, and spiritual healing for transformative experiences. She is a Senior Healing Tao Instructor teaching Tai Chi, Qigong, and Taoist meditations at the Universal Tao Boston School of Taoist Practices. Jamee is a teacher trainer certifying teachers in both disciplines.
In times of uncertainty and societal violence, Tai Chi offers a powerful way to remain steady and responsive. This ancient practice teaches us to stay grounded, reduce reactivity, and respond with clarity, helping us cultivate resilience and balance amidst chaos. Discover why learning Tai Chi right now is essential for navigating the pressures of modern life.
Feeling steady when the world isn’t
People feel the intensity in the world. Violence, whether direct or absorbed through constant exposure, has a way of entering the body. Even when we are functioning well, something inside braces.
Lately, students have been saying, "I need to learn Tai Chi now." Often, it’s said before class begins, or in the doorway on the way out. The choice to learn is not philosophical, it’s personal now.
I’ve been practicing and teaching Tai Chi for decades, long enough to recognize that this question doesn’t arise during calm periods. It appears when people sense that the usual ways of coping, thinking faster, pushing harder, taking sides, are no longer working. They are looking for a way to remain steady without becoming numb, and responsive without becoming aggressive. Tai Chi offers exactly that training.
Orientation before engagement
Tai Chi begins before contact. Before responding to an incoming force, the practitioner must be oriented, upright, balanced, and available to move in any direction. Without this internal organization, even strong technique collapses under pressure.
I remember practicing outdoors on a crisp morning in New York State during the annual Tai Chi retreat in the mountains. A surprisingly strong gust of wind knocked me slightly off balance, and for a moment, I realized physically I had no awareness of support. Adjusting, I felt an immediate and subtle shift, I renewed balance in my head and spine, and I returned to a naturally coordinated state. My stance became responsive, light, and ready. That single experience of effortless recovery reinforced the principle that underlies every Tai Chi movement, organization precedes power.
Even more, this "reset" is essential in everyday life, especially when you feel uneasy in your surrounding environment. Throughout your day, at every juncture, it’s important to pause for this "reset", a return to neutral before you charge forward again.
When you do, you’ll discover that vertical support can calm your nervous system and improve your true decision-making power. If you have ever had a lesson in the Alexander Technique, this is at the core of reorganizing yourself, to go from reaction to conscious response.
In class, I teach the same principle. Students are guided to sense inherent support, allowing balance to clarify and letting movement arise from a stable center, rather than gathering or contracting for effort. When orientation is clear, responsiveness becomes immediate and appropriate. There is no delay, and no excess. This is readiness, not preparation, nor is it passivity. It’s clearly defined for action or non-action.
Receiving force without bracing
One of Tai Chi’s most radical teachings is that bracing against force actually increases vulnerability. When the body stiffens, information is lost. When information is lost, timing disappears.
Tai Chi trains the opposite response. Through slow, continuous movement, students learn to receive force without freezing, to stay open long enough to feel where the pressure is going, and to redirect it without resistance. Yielding here does not mean giving up ground, it means staying connected to one’s own structure while allowing incoming force to pass by or through and be transformed. This skill is as relevant in daily life as it is in martial practice.
The pause as tactical advantage
Tai Chi places unusual importance on transitions, the moment preceding action, the shift from stillness to movement, the instant when contact changes direction. These moments are often rushed or ignored, yet they are where choice lives.
In martial training, this pause is not hesitation, it is tactical clarity. It allows the practitioner to sense, reorient, and respond with precision rather than reflex. In a violent culture that rewards immediacy and dominance, this capacity to pause without collapsing is a profound form of strength. Violence thrives when reaction replaces perception.
Teaching without aggression
When violence is present in society, it can be tempting to explain or defend the practice of Tai Chi. Over time, I’ve learned that Tai Chi requires very little explanation. The body understands quickly when it is given the right conditions, and when interference becomes unnecessary. Interference can show up as habitual bodily tension or unreliable perception.
At the beginning of class, I may simply acknowledge that the world feels intense and that students are welcome as they are. I remind my students that no matter how unsettled they feel when they arrive, they are welcome. They don’t have to "get their shit together" just to come to class. From there, attention is directed toward balance, direction, and continuity. Language emphasizes responsiveness over control, adaptability over force.
As students feel more organized, their responses sharpen. Movements become quieter, yet more decisive. Power appears without tension. This is martial training without hostility.
Carrying the practice into the world
Tai Chi does not prepare students for a single kind of encounter. It prepares them for uncertainty. By training orientation, listening, and nonreactive power, practitioners develop the ability to meet whatever comes toward them without losing themselves.
At the end of class, students return to their lives with a felt sense of balance and readiness. This is not confidence in domination, but confidence in response. In times of social violence and instability, this may be the most practical training available. Tai Chi quietly reminds us that how we move matters, and that clarity is often the strongest defense.
A sentence to begin
"Let’s begin by allowing ourselves to feel upright, supported, and ready to respond, without bracing or forcing anything."
Contained in this invitation is an entire internal arts philosophy, one that does not escalate conflict but does not retreat from it either. Tai Chi reminds us that power does not require aggression, and that clarity is the strongest form of resilience.
I teach Tai Chi as a way to remain humane in difficult times. When the world feels unstable or violent, our nervous systems tend to contract, we rush, we brace, or shut down. Tai Chi offers another possibility, staying present, upright, and responsive without becoming rigid or aggressive.
The practice trains us to feel support, to listen before acting, and to meet pressure with organization rather than force. These aren’t just martial principles, they’re life skills. In every movement, we practice yielding without collapsing, strength without hardness, and clarity without urgency.
Tai Chi doesn’t ignore what’s happening in the world. It gives us a way to meet it from a place of balance. By slowing down, sensing more clearly, and reconnecting with the ground beneath us, we restore our capacity to choose how we respond, rather than being driven by fear or reactivity.
In that sense, Tai Chi is not an escape from reality. It’s a form of resilience. It reminds us that even in uncertain times, we can cultivate steadiness, dignity, and care, first in ourselves, and then in how we move through the world.
Tai Chi helps us pause long enough to choose how we respond. Instead of bracing or forcing change, we work with direction, balance, and support, so effort organizes itself.
Especially right now, that ability to stay upright, aware, and unreactive is deeply practical. When violence is loud in the culture, people don’t come to class for more information. They come for regulation, meaning, and a place to land. Tai Chi can hold that without becoming political, preachy, or heavy.
Tai Chi matters right now because it teaches us how to stay steady when things feel intense. We practice not meeting force with force, but staying organized, grounded, and responsive. It’s not about escaping what’s happening, it’s about learning how to meet life with more clarity and less reactivity.
Tai Chi is a practice of awareness, coordination, and ease in movement. Rather than imposing effort or forcing form, students learn to allow natural support, clear direction, and balanced organization to emerge.
In an unsettled world, this practice restores our capacity to pause, sense, and choose how we respond, meeting pressure with presence instead of reactivity. Tai Chi becomes training not just for movement, but for living with steadiness, clarity, and care.
“Tai Chi quietly teaches us how to meet life’s pressures without losing ourselves, clarity is the strongest defense.”
Read more from Jamee Culbertson
Jamee Culbertson, Senior Instructor, Teacher Trainer
Jamee is a Senior Instructor at the Universal Tao Boston School, teaching Tai Chi, Qigong, and Taoist meditation. With nearly 40 years of experience, she integrates Taoist practices, the Alexander Technique, and spiritual healing. She is an internationally certified Alexander Technique Instructor and teacher-trainer at the Boston Conservatory at Berklee. Jamee has taught at Harvard University, Mass General’s Home Base program for veterans, and community wellness events like Rosie’s Place. Her work blends ancient wisdom and modern techniques to support healing, balance, and self-awareness.
