When Cullen McManus first encountered Tai Chi, it was not through a lifelong plan or a neatly defined path. Like many meaningful things, it entered his life quietly—through curiosity, timing, and need. Cullen, Daoist Gate Beverly’s Scholar for 2025–2026, was introduced to Tai Chi and Qigong through an elective course at Salem State University taught by Rosie Segil, who also teaches at Daoist Gate in Beverly, where she works alongside Brenda Gera and Robert Chavez.
Though Cullen had been curious about these practices for years—remembering, even decades earlier, seeing people moving together in parks—this was his first real opportunity to experience them firsthand. What began as an elective course soon opened a door he didn’t realize he had been searching for.
After learning that the Daoist Gate Beverly school offers scholarships for underserved college students, Cullen decided to apply. His application resonated deeply. The need was real, and the timing was right.
A Long Road, and a Turning Point
Cullen graduated last year from Salem State University—a milestone that took him long years to reach. Much of that journey unfolded alongside serious health challenges. At times, he attended classes while hospitalized, navigating chronic illness that once left him on the verge of requiring an electric wheelchair and around-the-clock care.
Five years ago, his health reached a critical point. Facing escalating physical limitations and living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), Cullen found himself isolated and overwhelmed. Determined to regain agency over his body and life, he began exploring ways to heal, walking, stretching, experimenting with movement, and closely observing his internal state.
His days became devoted to rebuilding stability: eating well, moving gently, integrating sauna and cold plunge therapy, and slowly reconnecting with his body.
“I’m a biohacker by nature,” Cullen says. “I like to explore hot and cold and pay attention to what’s happening inside.” That curiosity, paired with his background in meditation and Buddhism, naturally drew him toward Tai Chi and Qigong—not as abstract practices, but as lived, embodied tools for healing.
Access as a Form of Healing
Living on disability income, Cullen faced real barriers to accessing consistent instruction. The Daoist Gate scholarship removed those barriers, offering more than financial support—it offered access. Supported by Master Zhou Xuan Yun, the intention behind the scholarship is simple: when young people are under sustained stress, these practices can help them recover balance before patterns of disconnection take hold.
“It was an honor,” Cullen says. “It really has changed my life. It helped me find community.”
In his early classes, Cullen admits he felt defeated. The movements felt difficult to learn, and coordinating breath and body was challenging. Yet he kept coming back. As his Tai Chi teacher, Robert Chavez, observed, Cullen “kept showing up,” even when it wasn’t easy.
Over time, subtle changes emerged: improved balance, stronger wrists, greater mobility in his hips, and a deeper awareness of his breath. On days when getting to class felt like a struggle, he noticed that he always left feeling grateful he had come.
Tai Chi and Qigong, he discovered, were not about perfection or force. They were about patience, presence, and learning to meet difficulty without giving up.
A Practice That Extends Beyond the Training Hall
Five months into training, Cullen describes the practice as a “missing link”—something that supports his physical health, emotional resilience, and mental focus all at once. Healing, for him, is relational: between body and mind, breath and movement, and self and community.
Being part of the Daoist Gate community gave him a regular place to show up, a sense of belonging, and a reason to reconnect with others. That sense of connection has begun to ripple into other areas of his life as well.
Today, Cullen practices daily—on morning walks, at the beach before surfing, or wherever he finds himself. He dreams of becoming a teacher one day, offering Tai Chi and Qigong freely to others, especially those who face the same barriers he once did. He imagines these practices integrated into community spaces—alongside sauna and cold plunge culture—making them accessible, relevant, and alive for younger generations.
A Message to Other Students
Cullen hopes his story challenges the idea that Tai Chi and Qigong are only for older adults. His experience stands as a reminder that these healing arts can resonate deeply with younger people as well—especially those navigating stress, illness, uncertainty, or transition.
“Finding balance is hard for anyone,” he says. “But when you have barriers, it’s even harder. I wish my 20-year-old self understood how critical this kind of movement could be.”
To students who may benefit from the practice but feel hesitant, his message is simple:
“Come take a class and try it out. You will be welcomed. Then make your decision.”
Cullen’s journey is still unfolding. But he has already taken a meaningful step toward clarity, connection, and a practice that helps quiet the noise of daily life. His story reflects what becomes possible when access, consistency, and care come together—allowing healing arts to meet people where they are, and support them as they move forward.