Most of us know the feeling of moving through a day on momentum alone. The kettle sings, the dog needs to go outside, makeup and breakfast intersect at the vanity, a message arrives, a meeting begins before the breath has fully landed — and we continue on this thread for the rest of the day. We carry ourselves across thresholds without arriving in ourselves first, and somehow get accustomed to the drive adrenaline provides.

Qigong teaches another way. It teaches the art of sensing before acting, of breathing before speaking, of letting the body remember its natural rhythm so the mind can soften and the heart can lead. This is the spirit of Moving Stillness.

In practice, we begin by touching the earth with awareness so that our feet truly find the ground. The knees soften and the pelvis settles into its natural bowl. The breath drops lower and widens; the shoulders release; the jaw softens; the tip of the tongue gently rests behind the front teeth on the roof of the mouth.

From here, movement arises rather than being pressed into existence. The arms lift because the breath invites them to. The weight shifts because the body is organized around a steady center.

Qigong and Tai Chi reveal that the space between forms is a teacher in itself. The transitions between forms, between inhales and exhales are where presence heightens, where intention becomes clear, and where movement and meaning merge.

In those few moments of transition (of breath, of awareness, of presence) one experiences life as a moving meditation. To the observer, Qigong appears as graceful synchronicity of movement, breath, energy, intention and subtle shifts they can’t describe. Yet beneath the visible flow lies an ancient truth: yang arises from yin, for yang to appear, yin must first yield; for a movement to rise, it must first lower; for a step forward, there must be counterbalance. Within these transitions, slow-controlled movement and embodied awareness sculpt the next form.

This same principle is true for our own lifestyle transitions. When we honor the space between one activity and the next, the nervous system experiences safety and coherence. Focus becomes clearer without rigidity. The day begins to flow without fraying our attention. We use the space in between to slow down so we can speed up, to sit so that we can rise, to repose so that we can act.

Taoist wisdom calls this living with the current rather than against it. Yin receives and nourishes; Yang expresses and builds. They are not rivals but companions, trading places in reverence to sustain the larger movement of life. When Yin has replenished, Yang acts with clarity. When Yang has expressed, Yin restores the well.

Health is not a fixed point. It is a living conversation between these two states. As is lifestyle. In the language of daily life this becomes a simple practice. We choose fewer, truer actions and we give them our full presence. We let breath lead and timing follow. We allow pauses to gather wisdom rather than fearing that a pause means we are falling behind.

Midlife draws this lesson close. The old pace can no longer carry the weight of a full calendar and a divided body–mind–heart–spirit. The body asks us to listen in a new way when sleep changes, focus drifts, or anxiety hums beneath the surface. It is easy to believe the only story is aging or hormone decline, but often, it is the lost rhythm, the forgotten pace, that quietly dulls a woman’s radiance.

When we steady the pace of life, and move as we do in Qigong, the whole day changes. We become less brittle and less scattered. We begin to meet the doorways of our life with awareness and step through them with a quiet authority. We live the moving stillness way, living in a moving meditation.

This way of living may sound like a spiritual practice hidden inside ordinary movement, but it is also deeply physiological uniting the body and life with a natural rhythm of vital life force energy. It is a refinement of how purpose travels through a human life. We let the inhale gather us into one piece. We let the exhale settle us into the next right action. We speak plainly. We carry ourselves with kindness. We end what we begin with care, so the nervous system can trust that one loop has closed and the next can open cleanly.

From this ground, the practical becomes elegant:

• Before the next meeting, feel your feet.

• Place one hand on the lower belly and take a longer exhale.

• Let the shoulders drop by themselves.

• Name the next right action in one clear sentence.

• Walk to it without haste or urgency, but rather slow and controlled.

• When you finish write one line about what you learned.

Transition. Arrive. Presence. Complete. Reflect. These five movements turn a busy schedule into a coherent sequence. They are small gestures, but they change how attention behaves in the body, and how energy moves through the day.

The MenoPace Upgrade was born from this understanding: that the still point within movement is not a luxury for quiet days, but the center that holds when life is full. It is a moving stillness method that translates the inner logic of Qigong into a living cadence for modern responsibility. It honors the body’s language, respects the heart’s timing, and creates sacred space in the in-between.

Qigong extends beyond mind and body where it builds an inner alignment that allows us to know our true nature in mind, body, heart, and spirit. From this recognition, choices become cleaner. The right yes is easier to give. The necessary no is easier to speak. Joy returns in reliable ways because attention is no longer scattered across too many thresholds. It is gathered where you are, and it moves with you to what is next.

None of this requires perfect discipline, only the willingness to arrive. One breath is enough to begin. Feel the feet. Let the breath fall lower. Soften the shoulders. Sense the quiet between the last thing and the next thing. Step through with intention, not reaction.

When we live from this rhythm, life itself becomes our living Qigong form, where each moment a brushstroke of presence appears. The joy that once felt elusive no longer hides in the future or the past; it lives in the gentle continuity of breath, in the awareness that we are always arriving. Moving Stillness isn’t a goal to master, it’s a way of remembering that the sacred pulse of vitality was never lost, only waiting to be felt again.

In much love, light, peace and joy,

Dr. Ellie