Of that, there is absolutely no doubt. This was not a title she bought for a couple hundred bucks and a two-year membership in a martial arts school. This is something she earned, from her teacher and our Grand Master Hsu Fun Yuen. And it’s a title she deserved.
E was a phenomenal Tai Chi practitioner.
She was supremely gifted… strong, athletic, agile.
And focused. She told us of sewing hundreds of steel nuts and washers on a jacket to give it weight. Then she wore that jacket through countless practices, to build her strength.
And she was wise. She was wise beyond her years. And frankly, I gotta say, she was much wiser than you’d expect for a chick that hot. But that was E: she loved being wise, and she loved being hot. You gotta love her for that.
Elizabeth always said that it took three things to be a Tai Chi master. First, you had to be a good student. Second, you had to develop a strong self-practice that you could sustain on your own. But finally, to be a true master, you HAD to teach.
You had to pass on what you know. And, through teaching, you could empty yourself, and thus be able to refill with new knowledge. And you wouldn’t stagnate.
So she did teach, and what a teacher she was. Gifted beyond all reason, and yet patient and gentle.
She taught us so many… SO many things. About balance. About rooting. About weight distribution and weight shifting. Lightness vs. heaviness.
And joint alignment. She could tweak your wrist a half an inch, and suddenly your power quotient on a scale of 1-10 would go from a weak 6 to something approaching infinity.
She taught us about breathing. Breath is key in Tai Chi. Breathe deep, breathe relaxed. And breathe silently. “If you can hear your breath,” she’d say, “you’re wasting energy.” That’s how subtle it was.
And above all, she taught us about softness. Because, you see, Tai Chi is counterintuitive. It relies on softness, listening and awareness to overcome strength, speed and aggression.
And Elizabeth was as soft as they came. You would push Elizabeth and she would turn to vapor in your hands. A second later, out of nowhere, a buffalo would push your off your feet. And that buffalo always looked just like Elizabeth. How did she do that? Soft as cotton. Strong as a bull.
But the real genius of her teaching was that she didn’t just teach you what SHE knew; she taught you what YOU needed to know. She SAW you, internally, and she saw what YOU needed. And that’s what she gave you. Even if it wasn’t what you wanted or THOUGHT you needed. WHAM, that’s what you got.
And then you were better at Tai Chi.
And Elizabeth LOVED strong students. She didn’t want followers. She wanted strong, independent Women and Men, who were capable of carrying on her Tai Chi tradition.
E wasn’t intimidated by strong students. She relished them, because she was fearless and she knew she could handle them.
And because she knew they could teach her as much as she could teach them.
That is true wisdom. True humility. True nobility. She had that.
Every 6 years the cells in our bodies are replaced, so for us, we ARE Tai Chi. We ARE Elizabeth. We are our own selves, make no mistake, but who we are is inextricably bound with Elizabeth.
She’s in our movements, in our breath, even in our thoughts. She is entwined in our hearts and in our relationships with each other.
She is the set of qualities that we will ever strive for.
Elizabeth Wenscott was our teacher. She was our mentor.
She was our inspiration. She was our laughing, mischievous friend.
But first and foremost, she was---and she always will be---Our Tai Chi Master.
Good-bye, Sifu.
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