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[Extreme Photography] Fog WalkerAuthor: JEFFI CHAO HUI WU Time: 2025-08-06 Wednesday, 4:58 AM ········································ [Extreme Photography] Fog Walker The fog is so thick that it cannot disperse, and the sky and sea are a chaotic blend. Everything before me—the lights, the shadows of the trees, the silhouettes of people—floats and sinks in the fog, appearing and disappearing, like a projection cast from another dimension onto reality. I walk alone into the fog. It is six o'clock in the morning by the Sydney seaside, and the sky has not yet brightened. The streetlights cast faint yellow beams, like strands of memories falling from the depths of time. I walk slowly on this empty stretch of land, taking my time, each step firmly pressing down on every inch of the ground. Dressed in black, with a restrained aura. I am not here for a stroll; I am here to practice my skills. Practicing and photography overlap in dimensions at this moment. The body is in the fog, but the consciousness has already detached from the physical framework, beginning to enter a state of resonance with heaven and earth. The surroundings are very quiet, with no bird calls, no car sounds, only the breath between myself and this thick fog. I feel the mist, moist and dense, as it passes through my nasal cavity, moistening my lungs, intertwining with my slow breathing rhythm. The energy within my body rises gently, like a wisp of light smoke in the mountains, neither restless nor scattered, but steadily condensing in the dantian. My feet are grounded as I walk, neither hurried nor slow. My knees are slightly bent, shoulders relaxed and heavy, hands naturally hanging down by the seams of my pants. Although I am walking, each step conceals the structure of stance training and the guidance of awakened nerves. Just like practicing Tai Chi standing post, each step takes root, each step generates energy. There are no fixed forms, yet there are principles everywhere, and everywhere is practice. The surrounding fog grew thicker, and the streetlights unfolded before me like nodes in time. I don't need to hurry, nor do I need to rush; I only need to fully release my spirit in this moment, in the present space. The photography captures all of this purely by chance. I did not deliberately arrange anything; I simply habitually turned on the camera mode to preserve the fog, light, people, and the figures practicing in this morning. There was no posing, nor waiting for the light to be just right. This is a form of "passive imaging" in a real state, which better reflects my internal practice trajectory. In the fog, light and shadow erode each other. My silhouette is both blurred and clear, like a microcosm of many years of practice: lonely, yet stable; slow, but steadfast. Over the past few years, I have insisted on practicing every morning, regardless of rain or shine, heat or cold. Horse stance, Wuji stance, Golden Rooster Stands on One Leg, Tai Chi sword, Xingyi Five Elements Fist, and the Yi Jin Jing closing exercises—all completed in full. The energy within me has long since merged with that of the universe. This is not for so-called health or strength, but to allow the body to become an "information interface for energy," interacting with the external world at any time, rather than being a closed storage. And this misty morning is precisely when the meaning of "interaction" rather than "sealing" can be best displayed. The heat of the body rises in the mist, yet does not scatter; with each breath, even the colors of the distant streetlights seem to be drawn closer, giving rise to a layer of faint golden airflow swirling beneath my feet. People, ground, mist, lights, and even the tall pine trees in the distance, at this moment, are no longer just "scenery," but become a part of the practice. The environment is the field of practice, and the field of practice is an extension of consciousness. I am not pursuing so-called "explosiveness" or "high difficulty"; what I seek is the synchronization of structure and presence. It’s not about having great strength, but about having a stable structure; it’s not about fast movements, but about precise intention; it’s not about forceful confrontation, but about quietly resolving. Practitioners should learn to extract the rarest energy from the most ordinary situations—like the fog of this day, which is unassuming, invisible, yet envelops everything. It is not a barrier, but a guide. The figure in the lens gradually fades into the fog, as if entering another time and space. I know that true skill is not in the movements, nor in the form, but in the idea that "every moment can be skill." What is practiced is awareness, state, and the continuous flow of energy and environment. I walk silently, and the world responds silently. I know I am not walking alone—I walk with the fog. Source: http://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=697129 |
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