Finding Flow: Why We Practice Movement Patterns Until They Become Second Nature

[The_Neidan_Master]

Last week, while teaching my community taijiquan class, I had one of those magical teaching moments. A student who had been struggling for weeks with a particularly challenging sequence suddenly executed it flawlessly—and the look of surprise on her face was priceless. “I wasn’t even thinking about it!” she exclaimed. “My body just… knew what to do!”

That moment perfectly captures why I’ve dedicated so much of my life to movement practices, particularly taijiquan and gongfu. There’s something profound that happens when a sequence of movements transitions from being a mental exercise to becoming embodied knowledge—a transformation that seems increasingly valuable in our digitally dominated world.

The Digital Age and Our Declining Coordination

Before diving into the benefits of movement practice, we need to acknowledge a troubling trend. Over the past decade, I’ve observed a significant decline in the baseline coordination abilities of new students, especially among younger people. This isn’t merely anecdotal—research increasingly confirms these observations.

Our modern smartphone culture has created what some researchers call a “coordination crisis” among youth. Children and adolescents who spend excessive time on screens often show reduced motor skills, balance problems, and difficulty with spatial awareness. Studies indicate that excessive smartphone use is associated with attention problems, impaired cognitive functions, and decreased physical fitness.

What’s particularly concerning is how the sedentary nature of screen time replaces the natural physical play and movement exploration that previously developed these fundamental coordination skills. As one martial arts instructor I know says, “Twenty years ago, kids came to class already knowing how to roll, jump, and balance. Now we have to teach these basics before we can even begin the actual training.”

How much do you think smartphone use affects physical coordination in youth?

1. Significantly impairs coordination development
2. Slightly affects coordination but is manageable
3. Has no real impact on physical coordination
4. Actually improves certain types of coordination
5. Depends entirely on how the technology is used

The Struggle Before the Flow

When I first began studying taijiquan fifteen years ago, I was the definition of frustration. My instructor would demonstrate a sequence that looked effortless—like water flowing through a stream—yet when I attempted to replicate it, I resembled a rusty robot. My brow would furrow in concentration as I mentally recited: “Step left, arm up, turn right, shift weight…”

Sound familiar? Whether you’re learning a traditional form like Chen or Yang style taijiquan, or movements from Shaolin gongfu, that initial phase of conscious processing can feel incredibly awkward. You’re constantly in your head, trying to remember what comes next, your movements hesitant and disjointed.

This struggle is actually more pronounced today than ever before. Many new students come to class with significant “movement deficits”—challenges with basic coordination, balance, and body awareness that previous generations developed naturally through active play. In my gongfu classes for children, I now spend the first several weeks just rebuilding these foundational movement patterns before teaching any traditional forms.

Beyond Memorization: The Neuroscience of Movement Learning

What I’ve discovered through both personal experience and diving into the research is that there’s something much deeper happening than simple memorization when we practice movement patterns.

When we first learn a sequence, we’re using our explicit memory system—the conscious, deliberate recall of information. This is housed primarily in our prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for planning and decision-making. That’s why it feels like such hard work! We’re literally thinking our way through each step.

But with consistent practice, something magical begins to happen. The movement patterns start to transfer to our implicit memory system—specifically to areas like the cerebellum and basal ganglia, which control automatic movement patterns. This is what neuroscientists call “procedural memory,” and it’s the same system that allows you to ride a bicycle or type on a keyboard without conscious thought.

This process of developing procedural memory is precisely what’s being compromised by excessive smartphone use. The fine motor skills needed for typing and swiping are developing at the expense of whole-body coordination and spatial awareness. Traditional martial arts training directly counteracts this imbalance by rebuilding these movement foundations from the ground up.

Gongfu Training: Rebuilding Lost Coordination

While taijiquan offers subtle internal training, the broader practice of gongfu provides an excellent framework for rebuilding coordination in people of all ages, particularly youth. The word “gongfu” (功夫) itself means “skill achieved through hard work and practice”—a perfect description of the process.

In my children’s gongfu classes, we focus on developing fundamental movement skills that many kids today simply haven’t acquired naturally. Traditional stance training builds leg strength and stability. Hand techniques improve fine motor control. Forms training connects both, developing whole-body coordination and spatial awareness. Partner exercises teach timing, distance, and reactivity.

Parents often tell me how these benefits extend far beyond the training hall. One mother recently shared how her son, who struggled with clumsiness and poor coordination, transformed after just six months of training: “His physical education teacher asked what changed. He’s suddenly coordinated, confident, and engaged in playground activities he used to avoid.”

The beauty of gongfu training is that it systematically rebuilds these coordination pathways through progressive, structured practice. Each movement is broken down, repeated, and gradually internalized until it becomes second nature—precisely the antidote to the fragmented attention and limited movement patterns that characterize our digital age.

Which aspect of traditional movement training do you believe most directly counters the effects of excessive screen time?

1. Building physical strength and endurance
2. Developing whole-body coordination
3. Practicing sustained focus and concentration
4. Learning sequenced movement patterns
5. Building body awareness and proprioception
6. Social interaction during partner exercises

The Ancient Wisdom of Repetition

Traditional taijiquan and gongfu masters understood this neurological process long before modern science confirmed it.

In Chinese martial arts, there’s a concept called gong (功), which roughly translates to “skill acquired through practice over time.” Masters would have students repeat basic forms thousands of times before considering them proficient. This repetition isn’t just about physical memory—it’s about training the body to respond appropriately without the delay of conscious thought.

This approach stands in stark contrast to our modern preference for constant novelty and immediate gratification. Young people accustomed to the dopamine hits of social media and gaming often struggle initially with the deliberate, repetitive nature of traditional training. Yet this very quality makes it such a powerful antidote to the scattered attention and coordination deficits that plague the smartphone generation.

What traditional masters understood intuitively is that true mastery isn’t about conscious recall—it’s about training the body to respond appropriately through the subconscious mind. As one taijiquan practitioner noted, “You cannot move this system adequately without using the dantian pulling on the connections of the body.”

The Paradox: Thinking Less to Perform Better

One of the most fascinating aspects of this journey from conscious to unconscious competence is what happens when we try to return to thinking about movements we’ve internalized.

Have you ever been performing a well-practiced taijiquan form flawlessly, only to suddenly think, “Wait, what comes next?”—and promptly stumble? This phenomenon, sometimes called “paralysis by analysis,” reveals a crucial truth: once movements have been transferred to procedural memory, conscious intervention often interferes with performance.

I discovered this the hard way during a taijiquan demonstration years ago. Mid-form, I suddenly became consciously aware of the audience watching me, started thinking about the next sequence of movements, and promptly blanked on postures I had practiced hundreds of times. My conscious mind had interrupted my body’s flow state.

This experience has a direct parallel to what I observe in smartphone-addicted youth. The constant switching between apps, responding to notifications, and fragmented attention creates a habit of mental interruption that makes it difficult to sustain the unbroken focus needed for movement mastery. Traditional training directly counters this pattern by requiring extended periods of uninterrupted, focused practice.

Have you experienced “paralysis by analysis” in your movement practice?

1. Yes, thinking too much ruins my flow completely
2. Sometimes, but I can usually recover quickly
3. Rarely, once I learn something it stays automatic
4. Not sure, I’m always somewhat conscious of my movements
5. No, I perform better when I think through each step

Finding Your Path to Embodied Knowledge

So how do we facilitate this transition from conscious learning to embodied knowledge, especially for those raised in our digital era? Through years of both teaching and learning taijiquan and gongfu, I’ve found these approaches particularly powerful:

• Start with the foundations - For today’s youth, basic coordination exercises may need to come before traditional forms. Simple jumping, rolling, balancing, and crawling movements rebuild the movement foundation.

• Embrace “structured play” - Particularly for children, disguising repetitive training as games helps build coordination without triggering the boredom response conditioned by constant digital stimulation.

• Limit distractions - Create a training environment free from digital interruptions. The practice space should be a sanctuary from notifications, alerts, and the fragmented attention they create.

• Start slow and deliberate - Don’t rush the conscious learning phase. Build a strong foundation by practicing slowly with full awareness.

• Create meaningful chunks - Group movements into logical sequences rather than isolated steps. This helps the brain organize information more effectively.

• Focus on sensation, not visualization - Learn to feel the movements rather than picturing them. This builds the proprioceptive awareness often lacking in screen-focused youth.

• Celebrate small improvements - The smartphone generation is accustomed to instant rewards. Help them recognize and appreciate the subtle progress that comes with dedicated practice.

I’ve found that focusing on the sensory experience of movement—how it feels in my body rather than how it looks or what it’s called—accelerates this transition. When I teach now, I emphasize proprioception (your body’s position sense) over verbal instructions whenever possible.

The Deeper Gift: Presence Through Movement

Beyond the practical benefits of efficient movement, there’s something profoundly meditative about activities that engage our procedural memory. When we’re performing complex movement patterns automatically, we often enter a flow state—that magical condition where time seems to dilate and self-consciousness falls away.

Some of my most peaceful moments have come during flowing taijiquan sequences at dawn, when my thinking mind finally quiets and I’m simply present in the movement. This is the state that the Zen tradition points to with concepts like mushin (無心) or “no-mind”—not the absence of awareness, but a heightened presence free from the chatter of conscious thought.

This state of presence is increasingly rare and valuable in our notification-saturated world. The very qualities that make traditional movement practices challenging for the smartphone generation—sustained attention, delayed gratification, subtle awareness—are precisely what make them such powerful tools for reclaiming our embodied intelligence.

In taijiquan philosophy, this relates to the concept of wuji (無極) or “undifferentiated emptiness,” which has zero manifestation but infinite potentiality. Each time we reach the still point between movements—that moment when yin turns to yang or yang to yin—we tap into this infinite potentiality.

In our hyperactive, overthinking, digitally dominated modern world, I believe this may be one of the greatest gifts that traditional movement practices offer us: the opportunity to step out of our analytical minds and into the wisdom of our bodies.

Moving Forward Together

As we navigate this unprecedented era of technological change, traditional movement practices like taijiquan and gongfu offer a crucial counterbalance. They rebuild the coordination foundations that natural play once provided. They restore the sustained attention that smartphone culture fragments. They reconnect us with our bodies in an age of increasing disembodiment.

Whether I’m teaching elderly practitioners recovering forgotten movement patterns or children who’ve never developed them in the first place, the process remains consistent—struggle, practice, integration, flow. The journey from conscious effort to embodied knowledge is universal, timeless, and perhaps more essential now than ever before.

What movement patterns are you working to embody in your life? What practices have helped you make the transition from thinking to knowing? I’d love to hear about your experiences and continue this conversation about the wisdom that lives not in our conscious minds, but in the intelligence of our bodies.

Remember, the goal isn’t to think our way through movement—it’s to practice until thinking becomes unnecessary, freeing our awareness to simply be present in the richness of the moment.

[Jezz]

An incredibly thought provoking article in my mind.
I suppose the largest item ‘from thinking to knowing’’ in my life would be learning to drive. I cannot now remember the transition from having to think and not having to think.
With my Taichi practice I fear I am not giving myself time…I so badly want to be proficient and have that natural flow that I am probably stopping myself.
The body intelligence is there, telling me what I should do but is being pressured by that frustration , and maybe a slight anger , that it won’t happen.