I mused at the different people - of various colors and backgrounds - threading the story of tai chi in America. We were having brunch in a restaurant overlooking the Charles River and the Boston skyline. Mary wanted to know how to pronounce the Chinese names of the different moves, for Master Ching could not speak English.

We took a break. Mary read me an I Ching (Book of Change) passage she liked. What, besides health reasons, had drawn her to tai chi?

Mary was silent for a beat. It's almost like fate that the invitation for that research trip came out of the blue from a former student.

"I had never had any interest in Eastern medicine but I needed a chance to get away. Remember Marcos, the capoeira teacher from Brazil? I thought I had helped him a lot, trying to get his non-profit organization going and helping him with his immigration. In the end, he and his wife kicked me out, saying I was too pushy. That experience shook me up."

"The church was of little help," Mary continued. "I tried two churches in Philly. Every time I spent my time and energy to build the community, its leadership politics disappointed me.

"Then came tai chi, examining such questions as how to maintain balance between the community and the self, the action and reflection."

We jogged by the river. The sun shone warmly. I marveled at the journeys we undertake, across East and West, in pursuit of happiness and peace of mind. Mary used to be my English teacher and my guide; now it was my turn to help her.

I taught Mary how to say "open", "close", "push", and "breathe" in Chinese, and in her booklet, she wrote down their pinyin equivalents earnestly.