Obey My Blog

I happily carried my 9 lb ball to Tai Chi Ball class. 9 lbs! That’s almost a baby. Or something. My teacher eyed it with what I thought was a pleased look, but actually…was not. She took a look around the class and then asked me to trade. She wanted me to experience holding a heavier ball. I like my teacher and of course, I trust her, so I traded balls with one of my classmates. While my nice 9 lb medicine ball was leathery and stitched, this was a glossy and smooth heavy-ass bowling ball. Noting the weight of it I suddenly realized her point. I was never going to gain strength from a 9 lb ball.

Okay, I said. I’ll exchange this one. What do you think? Perhaps a 12 lb one?

No, she replied. 15.

Gulp.

I now have my 15 lb ball. It’s freakin’ heavy. It’s squishy and weighted so that it actually feels heavier than a 15 lb bowling ball. It’s awful. But now at least I don’t feel like a weeny in class. And I’m kind of getting used to it. Kind of.

Oh and check this out – I finally ordered myself a pair of these beautiful Onitsuka “Tiger” Tai Chi shoes from Zappos. Yay shoes! Now, instead of slipping and sliding around the dojo in my socks (which, admittedly, is fun to do sometimes) I can move around like a real Tai Chi master!

Okay, not exactly like a master, but you know what I mean.

I’ll soon be practicing Tai Chi with a big ‘ol ball.

Yes, that’s right.

A ball.

The (almost) lost art of Tai Chi Ball Exercise strengthens your core muscles and helps develop the qi in your dantian. It can also significantly improve your Tai Chi practice.

I kind of think if I just practiced more, though, my Tai Chi would improve, but my life has been rather busy lately. I only make time to meditate.

Which means my body, while centered, is getting a little flabby. Oh no!

Must. Work. On. Core. Muscles.

Maybe you think that’s strange. Maybe you think, Robin, why do I need some stupid ball to improve my Tai Chi?

Well, maybe you don’t. How should I know? But…Tai Chi Ball Exercise was the first part of the workshop that Grand Master Chen Qing Zhou taught while he was in Austin and I completely missed it. Mostly because it was a Saturday and I wanted to sleep in. But still, I realize that this is pretty important to the practice of Chen Style Tai Chi.

Look, I mean, even Lance Armstrong does it! Well, okay, not exactly, but it’s on his website.

So there’s that. But first, I’ll be finishing up part 3 of my Chen Tai Chi Old Frame 1st Routine class.

That’s 75 forms!

75 forms that I still haven’t really embodied. So I’m thinking of taking the whole class all over again.

I know, crazy right? But I love Tai Chi and I still feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface.

I briefly considered moving on to something new, but these days, I’m not sure I particularly enjoy starting over quite as much as I used to. I think perhaps starting something new provides some initial excitement, but lately I’ve become more interested in discovering what’s beyond the newness. What’s there that I’ve been missing? What have I overlooked or not appreciated?

Could be interesting…

It’s my last day at Tassajara and I’m washing 30 carrots. 30 big huge carrots! The scrub brush and the water have turned orange and all I can smell is their fresh, crunchy aroma. I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend the morning.

Okay, I can think of a few others, but this definitely ranks up there.

This trip to Tassajara was not a typical vacation. Yes, it was a break from my daily routine, but there was no escaping reality or life on this trip.

In fact, I was thrown right into it.

In a community like this you have very little privacy, there are rules for when you can talk and when you can’t talk and while you have some choice in the matter, the jobs you’re assigned are chosen for you.

There are good reasons for this (cultivating mindfulness being one of them), but when I first arrived, I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend why anyone would willingly take up this kind of life.

Be told when I can talk? Peesh! Be told what to do? Ha!

This is the exact opposite of how I’ve constructed my life so far. I’ve worked very hard to make sure I’m not dependent on anyone. I’ve made sure I know how to survive on my own without anyone’s help. When things got tough, I wanted to know that I could make it without having to trust anyone at all.

Put me in a community where this is completely turned upside down and…voila!

Major panic attack.

But I survived it. And by depending on other people, no less.

This is how I found myself delightfully washing carrots. My friend Vicki was kind enough to switch jobs with me on our last day, because she knew how much it meant to me to be in the kitchen for at least one shift.

How awesome is that?

Tassajara itself is a small place, tucked away in a valley in the Ventana wilderness. After the flight from Austin to San Jose, our group rented two vehicles and began the long trek in – about 3 to 3 1/2 hours. Or maybe it was longer, I can’t remember. Anyway, the mountains get increasingly taller and rockier the further you drive. Many of the trees that had been scorched by the fire here about 2 years ago were, sadly, still scarred black.

The mornings here begin early and I found myself waking up at 5:15, sometimes 5:00, in order to make it early to zazen in the meditation hall. Which is huge by the way. The clack of wood and the sound of bells and bowls became my early morning soundtrack from Monday to Friday. I listened to my ipod once the entire week – once!

Luckily, I managed to sneak away for one afternoon to practice Tai Chi. I only got to practice once during my stay, but in my Tai Chi class Sunday night, I noticed I felt much more focused and relaxed. I guess a week of meditation will do that!

I had very few expectations when I first started this trip. I really didn’t know what to expect, to be honest. For some reason, it never occurred to me that a trip like this would change me or challenge me even.

Isn’t it odd that the thought wouldn’t even cross my mind?

But what a nice surprise, to find that I could do things I didn’t think possible before. Like completely trust the people I was with, work in a kitchen, slow down enough to appreciate and notice even the tiniest gestures of kindness (of which there were many), tolerate nature (mosquitos, anyone?), share a bathroom with five women (!) and survive with only the light of the sun and a kerosene lantern.

It kind of makes me wonder, what else can I do that I didn’t think possible before?

I took a break from practicing Tai Chi.

And then I took a break from writing.

Scandalous!

My Tai Chi class has started up again though and I’m (almost) back in my regular routine. After Master Chen’s workshop several weeks ago, I realized I was a wee bit worn out. I needed to stop and catch my breath. Plus, my body was all like, okay dood. Dooooooood. We like, really need a break in here, do you mind?

And so I decided to take a break.

Now that I’m back though, I have a calmer, more focused approach to my Tai Chi (sort of). I’m not anywhere near mastering the forms of course, but I take correction better than I did before. I don’t get as discouraged as I did before. And I don’t worry as much either.

Master Chen’s workshop pushed me to my absolute limits and challenged me much more than I realized. It was really tough, but it also put things in perspective. I’ve put so much energy into worrying and stressing over how I’m doing the forms, how awkward I feel – how awkward I must look. When really that doesn’t matter.

YES. You are going to look awkward. You are going to FEEL awkward. That’s just a given.

But who cares?

I also seem to have a lot more fun in class (I know – how could Tai Chi be any more fun than it already is??). Granted, my legs feel like they’re on fire and sweat drips down my forehead in class (ewwwww), but I love it.

I’m also relieved.

Less fear – fear of failure, fear of pain, fear of looking stupid or whatever fear you are faced with – is always a relief.

In this same spirit, I am planning, packing and prepping for a week long trip to the boondocks of California.

Next week I’ll be traveling over the mountains and through the Austin and San Jose airports and up a very long and steep dirt road to the Tassajara Zen Monastery where I’ll be staying with my Zen teacher and several other friends and members of the Austin Zen Center.

I’ll be meditatin’ y’all!

At 5:30 in the morning. Every morning.

Um…

But I’ll also be doing some other zen-like activities like slaving away in the kitchen (I hope, maybe?) and/or doing other Tassajara-y things like attending talks and taking hikes and of course just enjoying the change of pace (not a small thing for me I must tell you).

I’m starting to think that taking a break is a good thing sometimes…

In case you’re a regular reader o’ mine and you were wondering, hmmm, what did Robin learn at SXSWi about blogging?

The answer is – not much! I learned about how other bloggers write – or don’t write. One blogger hadn’t updated his personal blog in over a month. But that was because he was guest blogging.

Guest blogging. It was like a mantra spoken at every blogging panel I attended. And at the sound of it, I froze in my seat and looked back at the panelists like a deer in headlights.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but the thought of it terrifies me. Why? Because whenever I’m under pressure to express myself I become paralyzed. It’s like stage-fright, except I get word-fright.

This past weekend, the Austin Zen Center held a Jukai ceremony for four of its members. This is where a person receives the Precepts.

I have a very palpable uneasiness with formal ceremonies, but this time my curiosity out-won my fear. I wanted to see what is was like. I wanted to know what was involved. What does everyone say? What do they do?

The place was packed! And everyone seemed to be in good spirits and smiling, even if they were new and didn’t understand what was going on. Heck, I’ve been going to the Zen Center for almost a year and I wasn’t sure what was going on!

As the ceremony began, my initial uneasiness was replaced with surprise. In between bells and clacks, the words that were spoken from teacher to initiate were kind, warm and filled with unconditional love. I’ve never witnessed a ceremony quite like it. I was overcome by the rarity of such a thing. How often does a person experience unconditional love and kindness like that in our society? Not very often. At least in my experience.

Afterward, we all got together to enjoy the sunshine and feast on some delicious food. As I was munching down on a chard tart, my Zen teacher walked up and I offered him a chair. He sat down and while happily chewing away on some kind of rice dish, he asked with a sly grin if I was going to be next. I smiled and said maybe, maybe not. I wasn’t sure.

Though most likely I will some day.

But don’t tell him that. I want to keep him guessing.

Now that my legs have fully recovered from the workshop with Grand Master Chen Qing Zhou, I have more blood available to my brain to write something halfway coherent today. Yay!

Grandmaster Chen caused me great pain. Pain, I tell you! Yet, I willingly went up to him and allowed him to demonstrate several moves, like twisting my arm back in on itself, throwing me to the ground, etc.

This was starting to hurt after a while and I wanted to defend myself. But how?

At one point, as I was hurtling to the ground in another one of Master Chen’s vice grips, I made a desperate and feeble attempt to lightly punch Master Chen with my other, less compromised arm. Just to prove that I wasn’t an imbecile who was going to sit there and take it.

And then it hit me.

Robin, what the hell are you doing? You’re trying to punch Master Chen?!

And then I thought, but he’s trying to hurt me – I must defend myself!

I wondered what Master Chen would think. I wondered what my teacher would think. I was suddenly both horrified and foolishly proud of my reaction.

And then I looked up into the eyes of these two teachers.

And they both burst out laughing.

“Do not resist!” Master Chen said.

In Tai Chi, one of the worst things you can do is resist. Still, this is the hardest thing for me to accept. In the two years that I’ve been practicing martial arts, you’d think I’d get this by now. But no.

At the end of our day together, Master Chen encouraged us all to keep practicing. He also emphasized the importance of hard work. Which made me happy. Seriously. A lot of people want to obtain good health, strength, agility and even enlightenment through Tai Chi without doing any of the work. Unfortunately (or fortunately, rather) it doesn’t work that way.

But, I have to admit that even this misses the point. As strict as Master Chen is (and he is), he loves what he’s doing and has fun doing it.

This is what impressed me the most, I think. It wasn’t his expertise or his quick moves. It was the fact that he was not in it for himself, if that makes sense. There was nothing I could say or do that would put him on the defensive. He knew who he was – and he knew who we were.

Before saying our official goodbyes, Master Chen half-jokingly stormed around the room, going up to each one of us and looking us in the eyes – showing us his spirit, he said. Watching him and the other students’ reactions was fascinating. Some backed away a little (understandably so). Some stood their ground and looked right back at him. When he came up to me and I looked him in the eyes, I simply softened. I was surprised. I was supposed to be afraid and yet I couldn’t see anything scary in there. Weird.

I’m not sure when Master Chen will be back. But in November, Grandmaster Chen Zhenglei is expected to be in Austin to give one of his workshops. I’m giddy with excitement because I’m much more familiar with his style than with Grand Master Chen Qing Zhou’s. Hmmm, perhaps this means I won’t screw up as much in his class. One can only hope… But then, that might not be as much fun.

PAIN. Soreness. PAIN.

Just kidding.

I’m not in that much pain – now.

The Chen Style Tai Chi workshop I attended with Grand Master Chen Qing Zhou this past weekend went something like this:

“Wrong!”

“Stop!”

“Wrong direction!”

“No.”

“That’s not right!”

“Stop laughing!”

“This is not a joke!”

“Wrong!”

“Wrong!”

“Wrong!”

“No!”

I have the image of Master Chen throwing his hands up in the air over and over because of something I did wrong now etched into my brain forever.

He’s a wonderful dude, don’t get me wrong. He just doesn’t fool around when it comes to teaching Tai Chi.

At one point I was paired with him to do double push hands (yes, God hates me). I have never done double push hands in my life – only single push hands. So, I had no earthly idea what I was doing. Realizing this, Master Chen kept pushing me back, further and further towards the wall. Then with the flick of his wrist, he slapped the tip of my nose with the back of his hand.

Humiliated and defeated all I could do was laugh.

And then plot my revenge.

I have to give kudos to my teacher, Yuxia Qiu – who co-taught the entire workshop AND translated AND took correction from Master Chen, all at the same time. She even helped me out a few times and I made sure to thank her.

One of the highlights of the workshop was when Master Chen asked us to put our hands on his belly and back so that we could feel what his dantian was doing during the movements. Grandmasters traditionally do not do this. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. His belly is like a rock, let me tell you. A big round rock. It’s weird. And awesome.

While we were on break for lunch, I walked around the Austin Fitness Martial Arts dojo and came across an altar, with Guan Yu at the very top. Guan Yu, I was told, is the protector of the martial arts. How could I not know this? There’s so much I don’t know… But I was intrigued by this figure. And happy to spot the familiar image of Kuan Yin, the bodhisattva of compassion standing near him.

Speaking of compassion…Steven over at Real Taijiquan was kind enough to give me some very useful feedback on my blog last week. Thanks Steven! If you get a chance, go check out his site – he has a new optional minimalist theme, which I think is pretty cool!

South By Southwest is here! Woohoo!

What does this have to do with Tai Chi?

Nothing!

Other than the fact that, since I am not attending on the company’s dollar this year, I can attend any panel I choose. And in order to create a better blog for you, my dear readers, I choose to attend A LOT of panels. On blogging! Yay!

On that note, if you have any feedback regarding this blog, please feel free to send me a message via my Contact Form. I welcome constructive criticism, as well as, nice thoughts.

Just try not to be mean, if you can. An irate man tailgated me halfway home from a morning sit at the Zen Center a few Saturdays ago. I laughed. Likewise, if you are mean, I may very well laugh at you, too.

So I’ll be getting my geek on starting this weekend, but NEXT weekend I am attending a workshop with Grand Master Chen Qing Zhou.

This guy is going to kick. my. ass. And I’m very much looking forward to it.

Chen Qing Zhou apparently began teaching within a year of learning Lao Jia Li Yu – the Old Form. The form that I am learning right now.

I have just learned the 34th form, Double Jump Kick (Ti Er Qi).

How am I EVER going to make it to the 75th? I think I’m going to have to wake up a lot earlier in the mornings…

I think back to when I first started learning Tai Chi and I shake my head. There is NO WAY I would have been able to teach back then! I don’t think I could teach now! Well, okay, I could probably, maybe teach some Silk Reeling, but there is so much more that I don’t know…

Over lunch this past weekend, I described to a friend of mine how I started off doing Tai Chi to help me deal with stress. Then I mentioned how I went to an (awesome) acupuncturist for a year, also because of stress. And then of course, I got into Zen. Also, in a way, to help me deal with stress (and for other reasons too, but it has definitely helped me deal with stress, that’s for sure).

Hmmm…so apparently – and this may have been obvious to everyone but me – I’ve been one stressed out chica!

(to my former roommates back in Virginia…I’m so, so sorry…)

And now for a riveting video from the Grand Master himself. Who makes these videos? I need to have a talk with them about music selection…

Last weekend I drove by the IRS building that Mr. Joseph Stack flew his plane into on Thursday, February 18. I was driving to the grocery store Sunday afternoon before Tai Chi class like I always do. I happened to look over and there it was with all of its broken windows and mangled building materials dangling from each of the floors. It was eerie in its ordinariness.

The night of that incident, here in North Austin, I watched The Bridge.

If you haven’t seen The Bridge, it is a film that documents a handful of people who chose to end their lives by jumping off of the Golden Gate Bridge in 2004.

Needless to say, it was not easy to watch.

But over and over, as these individuals’ stories unfolded, I realized that all of them had particular expectations for who they thought they should be. And they were tortured by them. Some were suffering from mental illness, but the others almost obsessively compared themselves to ideals they had created in their minds about who they thought they were supposed to be.

And they simply couldn’t live with the fact that they didn’t meet those ideals and expectations.

Nearly six years ago, I almost couldn’t live with mine either.

Standing on the edge of the metro platform in Washington, DC, waiting for the next train, I looked down and marveled at how easy it would be to just jump in front of it. I was alone and completely lost in a soul-sucking temp job as an assistant at an investment bank. I could barely afford rent and food and though I wouldn’t admit it, I was still reeling from the bitter and painful divorce of my parents only a few years before. It was probably the lowest I’d ever been.

But I still couldn’t do it. I looked up and saw the headlights of the train beaming right at me and I became frightened. I didn’t want to die. Even in that much pain.

So when I learn about people who actually do go through with killing themselves I can only imagine their despair.

I see a very thin, but often times, very elusive, line between expectations and reality. On this line hangs a question – what if the people who ended their lives on the bridge just didn’t compare themselves to an ideal? What if they were just able to tell their expectations to piss off? What then? Could they have turned around and faced the road back into San Francisco, rather than face jumping into the water?

What are these expectations really and why do we let them dictate how we live? So what if we’re not rich by the time we’re 40. So what if we never sculpted the perfect career for ourselves (what is that anyway?). So what if we never got married or never had children. So what if we got divorced. So what if we went broke.

I challenge these expectations. They rob us of our humanity. They separate us from each other. How is that living?

In the most ordinary sense, on the most ordinary day, a man decided to fly his plane into a building in North Austin because the world didn’t meet his expectations.

His only solution?

Violence and death.

I challenge that.

I attended an informal talk a few months ago, where it was suggested that I encourage others to meditate. I raised my hand and immediately expressed my concern and unease with this.

I don’t talk about Zen stuff very often. Well, okay, in this blog I do, but that’s different. Much of the time though, in my daily life, I try to completely avoid talking about Zen Buddhism or Zen meditation altogether.

There are several reasons for this.

1. A lot of people think meditation is weird. I’m not really interested in trying to convince people otherwise. Even though it’s probably the simplest thing a person can do. In Soto Zen, it involves sitting and staring at a wall. But this still seems to weird some people out.

2. I get the impression that a lot of people already think I’m kind of weird.

3. Before last year, I thought Buddhism was really, really, really boring. Really. I absolutely had no interest in it whatsoever and could not relate to it at all. Knowing this, I do my best not to waste my time – or other people’s – jabbering on about Zen stuff. The people who are genuinely interested, ask. The people who aren’t, just get defensive anyway.

4. I am not a Buddhist. I’m not sure I want to be a Buddhist. And yet it’s the closest I’ve come to feeling like I’m “home” in a very long time. I don’t know how to reconcile that, but that’s okay. But with this in mind, I do my best not to preach.

5. There are already enough people jabbering on about Zen and Buddhism. People much more qualified at it than me. But then there are those who like to jabber on and on and on…about nothing! I’m a writer – maybe not a great writer, but a writer nonetheless  – and I love words. But Jesus Mary Mother of God, I don’t want to sit around and argue with some jackass with something to prove about the intricacies of the Vinaya. Snore! I have a life to live. So do other people.

Zen is such a strange, strange thing. And yet it’s so boringly normal. I don’t know how to express this experience to other people. I just have to live it. Or try to.

It is also very, very personal.

In my Zen class this week, my teacher asked us all why we come to the Zen Center.

The people who responded had really wonderful and touching replies.

I was not one of them.

I couldn’t answer. I knew if I opened my mouth to speak it would be waterworks all over the place.

So I bit my lip and made a joke instead.

Because I mean, how do I even begin to answer that question?

It’s unfathomable to me. Extremely personal. Absurd. Ridiculous. Serious. And yet, not serious at all.

I can’t even imagine not going to the Zen Center now. I can’t even imagine not meditating. How’s that for an answer?

p.s. Yes, I made up the word “jabbery.”