Obey My Blog

Alrightie. This is my last attempt to write for the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge. Heck yeah!

Today’s topic: Resolution you wish you’d stuck with.

Hmmm… I don’t really want to write about 2009. I don’t want to write about 2010 either. Because today, outside, it is absolutely gorgeous. I should be out there. Absorbing the beautiful Texas sunshine. Not in here, attempting to reflect and be all deep-like.

But okay, I’m gonna do it. I’m going to write you an article you can’t refuse. Or reuse.

I kept all of the resolutions I made way back when in January. Jealous? Eh, you shouldn’t be – they were very broad resolutions anyway. I wanted to be healthier physically, so I started slowly changing my diet. I stumbled my way through Qigong, found myself delightfully and unexpectedly in a Baguazhang class and then returned to my first true love, Chen Style Tai Chi.

I wanted to be healthier mentally, so I started doing Standing Meditation along with my martial arts practice. And then found my world completely turned upside down by one little book, Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate (Damn you Brad Warner! Just kidding.).

Zen Buddhism. Holy crap.

I don’t think I’ll be making any resolutions for 2010. I was pleasantly surprised and humbled by 2009. Despite all the mistakes I made, the stupid things I said, the heartache and my sometimes awkward social moments (please don’t ever ask me about my master’s degree. I will get all kinds of awkward on you), I held steady with my desire to be a healthier person. Not the healthiest person, mind you – just healthier. Which, I think is much healthier. Heh.

Here’s to a healthy 2010.

It’s always awesome to discover you’ve poked fun at a video that just so happens to be by your teacher’s teacher. Who also just happens to be Grandmaster Chen, Xiao Wang.

D’oh!

I still think his video is funny though…

Anyway.

I recently finished reading Women in the Martial Arts, edited by Carol A. Wiley.

Let me just say, that this has been extremely hard for me to write about. One, because it is immensely personal and two, because some men (not all!), when they see the word “Woman” in the title of a book or article, run screaming for their lives. I’m half-kidding. But it does seem like a lot of men (not all!) are allergic to the female perspective. Why is that?

If it’s any consolation to my male readers, I won’t be beating you over the head with feminism. I also promise not to talk about “moon cycles” (oops – just did!).

To say that this book inspired me would be an understatement. Many of the women got into Tai Chi, Aikido, Tae Kwon Do, Karate and Baguazhang to learn how to defend themselves. Several of the women had experienced sexual and physical abuse and others had friends or relatives who had been abused. All of them needed a way to heal and be strong and self-sufficient in the face of overwhelming self-doubt, learned passivity and sometimes horrifying violence and pain.

Self-defense was never the reason I got into the martial arts. I was considerably stressed out and Tai Chi seemed like the most obvious way to deal with it. That was all. But the more I delve into the martial arts the more I realize that the mental and emotional strength that is gained through practice is the foundation for self-defense (even against stress).

Because if you lack confidence in yourself and you do not feel you have a right to the physical space that you occupy, how can you effectively defend yourself?

You can’t.

A lot of women may think that empowerment only comes from being tough and aggressive but the conclusion that almost all of the women came to in Wiley’s book (and what surprised them most), was that the mental and emotional skills they gained through practice far outweighed the physical strength and agility that was a result of their training.

This is the conclusion I have come to as well.

Tai Chi puts my awareness back in my body and out of my head. When I do Tai Chi, I am not led around by my thoughts, worries and fears (okay, sometimes I am. I’m only human.). All the pain, worry and stress I feel loses it’s power little by little and as a result, I feel confident, more relaxed and less anxious. I don’t feel the need to react to everything around me.

And this is what is needed to properly defend yourself – relaxed awareness. Not a tight fist, a bloated chest or sinewy biceps (I just wanted to use the word sinewy). But it’s difficult to come to this realization without first going through the process of being defensive, aggressive and trying to prove yourself.

I commend these women for having the courage to take the path of martial arts, because it’s not always an easy one.  But because they did, they were able to heal and discover strength in themselves that they didn’t know they had.

Despite persistent 100 degree weather here in central Texas, I can smell the fall. And it smells like Tai Chi! Chen Tai Chi Old Frame 1st Routine, that is!

Yes, I am virtually salivating in anticipation of my next Tai Chi adventure. I will attempt to start all over again after dropping this very same class last fall.

Even though I have to leave Baguazhang behind, I am so incredibly glad that I took it. It was really hard! And I don’t mean that in a whiny way (well, maybe just a little). We soared through the basics and went right into learning the Lion form. I didn’t realize this was deliberate until this week though. I just thought my teacher was insane (I kid!). But it’s good my teacher approached it this way, because if I had known what I was actually getting into I would have been incredibly intimidated. Okay, maybe not that intimidated, but it would have been daunting mentally nonetheless. I have a tendency to overthink things, so I really like being blindsided and just thrown in there. Actually, I don’t really like this, but it seems to work for me in some weird way.

I feel a bit guilty leaving Baguazhang. Many of the Bagua students are extremely passionate and they really want to share that with you. There is a palpable energy in Baguazhang class that can’t be matched in Tai Chi. I don’t know how to explain it really. Let’s just say I always had a very hard time falling asleep after a night of Baguazhang. It left me pretty hyper and I had to make sure to devote a bit of my evening to winding myself down. It’s very easy to get caught up in that kind of energy, but I have to be honest with myself and admit that my heart is still in Tai Chi. I feel I’ve only barely scratched the surface of my Tai Chi practice and I want to follow  through with it and see where it takes me.

If all this talk of Baguazhang has piqued your interest, check out the Yin Style Baguazhang International website. This is the style we learned, as taught by my teacher, Kuan Wang, who was taught by He Jinbao (Who I hear is a very serious guy. I would never want to cross him. I can only imagine how he’d react to my goofiness…*gulp*).

By the way, a sincere thank you and many bows to whoever sent me the Baguazhang DVDs from The Association for Traditional Studies. I was quite surprised and honored that someone took the time to send these to me. Thank you!

On a completely different note, I decided to attend a Japanese Tea Ceremony workshop with a friend of mine last Saturday and thought I would close this by sharing a few photos with you. Check ‘em out. It was so much fun and Sheila Fling is one of those wonderful Southerners of such unpretentious grace and humor, that I felt right at home with her. She likes to refer to herself as a Buddhapalian – a Buddhist and an Episcopalian. How awesome is that?

One of the attendees was kind enough to capture my backside as I attempted to bow in front of this lovely scroll (note Sheila’s cruel and menacing laughter).  I learned a lot (there’s a lot to learn!) but I will definitely not be making tea for any cute guys like in Karate Kid anytime soon. Ah well.

“If you are not sore the next day, you are not doing it right,” my Baguazhang teacher says.

Jesus God! I am sore. Two days since class and my legs still ache. I’m feeling pain in muscles I didn’t know existed. But it was worth it. Even though I didn’t have much strength in class this week, I put just a little more extra effort into the forms and drills. I even got a compliment from the teacher, which was a big surprise (don’t worry, I won’t let it go to my head!).

The funny thing is, I still dread going to class every week. Right up until I get to class and we start warming up. Then I  really enjoy myself and time flies by.

So, if I really enjoy it while I’m there, why such resistance? C’mon brain, what’s the big deal? If I hadn’t committed myself wholeheartedly to this class, I think I would have stopped going a long time ago. But then, what a shame that would have been, because I’ve learned so much just by sticking with it.

And maybe that’s the key. This sounds so obvious to me now and some of you may laugh at me and slap your foreheads, but I’ve slowly realized that by committing myself to going every week, I get a lot more out of class than if I just went based on how I was feeling.

My decision to go to class is not based on whim, emotion or even the weather. I go whether I like it or not. This is so counter-intuitive to what I usually think of as commitment, because in actuality it is quite freeing. Who knew!

And yet, all this lovely insight comes to an end next week, as my Baguazhang adventure screeches to a halt. Tai Chi class will start again in September and I will leave circle walking behind. Is it weird that I’m a little sad?  I’ve gained an entirely new perspective of the martial arts just by taking this Baguazhang class. Even though I still cringe when I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror practicing (I’m all arms it seems), I feel like I’m actually starting to get some of these movements down. It’s a shame I have to stop now. Who knows, maybe I will return to Baguazhang someday…

I was inspired to write this after reading Matthew Apsokardu’s post on Ikigai Way called, “Do All Martial Artists Love Violence?”

…

I was shocked when I walked into last week’s Baguazhang class and our teacher paired us up to practice sparring. I was paired off with one of the more knowledgable students and we had at it. Well, sort of. I had no idea what I was doing and ended up laughing through most of it. Luckily, I had a very patient partner.

As we were going through the movements, it dawned on me just how powerful Baguazhang really is. I learned how to take someone’s head off. I learned how to break someone’s arm. I learned how to take someone’s head off and break their arm at the same time. And it doesn’t require that a person weigh 200 lbs and be ripped. I weigh half that (okay, around half that…) and as long as I am centered and low to the ground, I can very easily put enough force into a move to achieve breakage (apparently, it only takes 8lbs to snap an arm!).

I joke around in class and laugh when I’m frustated, but by no means do I wish to imply that this is something I take lightly. As I may have mentioned before, I was a little worried about getting into a harder martial art like Baguazhang.

When I was 16 years old I beat someone up. But not just anyone. I beat up a Nazi skinhead. Looking at me, this sounds absolutely preposterous. I’m quite girly and effeminate. But when I was younger I hung around some rather sketchy people at times. This particular skinhead used to bum around with some of the people in our group. God knows why. One night he decided he wasn’t going to let my girlfriends and I go home, so he jumped into the van my friend was driving, turned around and started taunting us. This pissed me off to no end. He had been pushing my buttons the entire night and finally I just couldn’t take it anymore. I looked him straight in the eyes, took my cigarette out of my mouth and swiftly put it out on his hand. He screamed, pulled his hand back in pain and then in retaliation spit in my face. Things progressed quickly after that. I started wailing on him. I punched him over and over as hard as I possibly could. Unable to defend himself, he freaked out and ran to his friends’ car and they sped away.

The next thing I remember was that I got into the van and screamed. For what felt like an hour. I screamed and screamed. My friends stared at me in horror. Never had I felt so out of control. Even though I was defending myself and my friends, I was horrified by what I had done and felt I had taken things way too far. I was ashamed and embarrassed that I had let myself get that angry.

Some people might say, good for you! Or, you were right to defend yourself against a Nazi skinhead asshole. And I’ll be completely honest and say that a small part of me was proud that I stood up for myself. But still…that whole situation left a bad taste in my mouth and an uneasy feeling that I can’t quite name.

That is just not a good place for me to be in.

I didn’t then and I don’t now want to be the kind of person who reacts with anger and retaliates with violence. And just because I know how to break someone’s arm, doesn’t mean I want to actually do it – or even should.

Granted, it would take a lot more Bagua training for me to really do some damage, but the more I learn, the more aware I am of how easy it is for us to hurt each other. And how restraint and not acting out of anger are far superior to any dangerous kung fu moves I could possibly learn.

I was dreading Baguazhang class. I kept checking the clock all day, knowing I’d have to make a decision at some point whether or not I was really going to go. I went back and forth. I did a lot of internal cussing. At some point I’m sure I wrung my hands. On the drive there I still couldn’t decide. Damnit, I thought, I don’t want to go. But I kept going, telling myself that I must be crazy or masochistic or something.

Part of my reasoning to go was pride. I did not want to have to tell people I gave up on this class only half way through it. But it was also because I remembered how much I had regretted dropping that Tai Chi class last fall. All because I was stubborn and angry and hardheaded. If I had just stuck with it, I might have surprised myself.

And so I went. I hated it. Until about 30 minutes into the class, when something changed. I wasn’t getting the movements right away, but they were starting to make sense to me. I kept going, encouraged by this small breakthrough. Our teacher started us on drills, which consisted of chopping movements to build up strength in our arms, waist and hips. It looked simple enough. And then I tried to do it and was flabbergasted. I looked up and said to him, “You make this look so easy!”  He laughed and told us that in Beijing, his teacher had made him do these drills for 6 hours straight. 6 hours! My jaw dropped. I quickly shut it and got back to work, thankful I wasn’t in Beijing.

There is a wonderful excerpt from Linda Myoki Lehrhaupt’s book, T’ai Chi as a Path of Wisdom (which I absolutely love and highly recommend) which states,

“We learn something when we are challenged to stretch beyond what we think our boundaries are. When we are always working at a level that seems comfortable, we tend to stagnate. When we are not challenged, whatever we do learn soon fades. When we always perform at a chugging pace, our faces never know what it is to glow with joy.”

This Baguazhang class has definitely been challenging and I am most assuredly being stretched beyond my usual boundaries and comfort level. But as much as I have resisted it, I’m really glad I decided to stay with it. I’ll probably still struggle, cuss and hate it at times, but if I can simply accept this class for what it is and not try to make it into something I think it should be, then I just might surprise myself this time around. Hopefully. There are still 4 more classes to go…

I’m entirely too girly for this class. And maybe too silly. Like I’ve mentioned in previous posts, when I get stressed I like to crack jokes and laugh (well, now that I think of it, even when I’m not stressed…). It makes me feel better. One of the more advanced students was obviously disturbed by my cutting up and laughing today though. He thought I was laughing at him. He said to me, “It’s not a joke. Seriously.”  Wow. I really had no idea anyone would even assume I was laughing at them. I feel kind of bad…

Muuuhaaahaaahaaawww!!

Seriously though, I did not want to go to class today. But I took my fatigued and sleep-deprived body down to the dojo and did it anyway. I have so much to learn. Even about Tai Chi. Yes, I’ve taken Tai Chi for about a year and half now, minus a few months when I stopped going last fall, but I am a long, long way from ever really mastering the forms. And I need to be a lot more disciplined.

Taking this Baguazhang class makes me wonder what Tai Chi was really like when it was used as an actual form of self-defense and a fighting art. Oh, you thought Tai Chi was just for old people and hippies? No, no, my friends (has enough time passed between now and the ’08 election for me to use that term again?). The slow, boring movements are only the beginning. If you persist long enough with Tai Chi, you get to learn the faster, harder (supposedly less boring) forms to round out your training. Sometimes even weapons are involved. Oh yeah. At least, that is what Wikipedia told me…

And now for a bit of  “old-school”  Baguazhang training. I’m really glad our teacher doesn’t make us do this…

I should have learned from past experience to be a bit more patient. My Baguazhang class this week was…really good. Something’s different. The teacher started us off by reviewing basic drills, then we practiced walking the circle while he emphasized its Daoist origins, then we even had ten minutes at the end of class to ask him questions (!). Maybe he’s finally getting a good feel for the class. Or maybe he’s been reading  my blog (oh crap…oh, wait, no one really cares what I think do they? I certainly hope not.).

I pounded him with questions.

Should we be practicing walking the circle at home?
Um, yeah.

How should I feel when I’m doing Baguazhang? Should I feel centered like in Chen style Tai Chi (which is the only Tai Chi I’m familiar with)?
Yes, but the emphasis is a bit different of course. There is more of an inner rotation of the hips and more powerful, forceful movements.

How did you get into Baguazhang?
After studying Chen style Tai Chi in Beijing, I became a bit wary of my Tai Chi teacher, decided to take a Yin style Baguazhang class and ended up liking it and eventually became a disciple of He Jinbao.

I’m paraphrasing here of course. Don’t go quoting me.

On the drive home (which is like 5 minutes, but still…) I came to the conclusion that I was the one who wanted to rush through being a newbie. I was the one who felt uncomfortable being new at this. And if I really want to be honest (oh I do, I really do), I feel very uncomfortable being a woman in this class full of men who already know what they’re doing.

Okay. As much as I hate to admit it and as much as I try not to, I still place a lot of importance on my intelligence. Being a woman in a class full of men just magnifies this for me. Because a lot of men (not all! not trying to lump all you fine gentlemen into one big generalization here, bear with me.) automatically peg women as stupid or rather, less intelligent than them. At least, that has been my personal experience. So. I’ve spent much of my life trying to prove myself, when I really didn’t need to. And sometimes, like in this class, all of that comes up for me again.

But the shift in this class has me thinking that maybe it’s not really a big deal. That no one expects me or any of the other newbies to be experts right away. And no one really cares if I’m a woman or not.

Which only leaves one thing left to do. Just practice.

Being new at something is scary. Maybe not mind-boggling scary, but nonetheless, most people (myself included) would prefer to move through the “newbie” stage as quickly as possible. Why is that?

I visited the Austin Zen Center for a second round of the Beginner’s Instruction (hey, I’m a slow learner) and our instructor this time around brought up an interesting point. How do you relate to the form? Meaning, what is your relationship to just sitting there? How do you react and what comes up for you? I never thought about it in that way and it got me thinking about being new at something and how I relate to the forms in Tai Chi (and in Qigong and now Bagua).

My usual reaction? To crack jokes. While waiting for my friend to join me at the Zen Center, the room was full of serious quietude and anticipation. I was so excited to be there though that I didn’t feel like being serious, so when my friend walked in I said in a loud, booming voice, “Shhhh – we’re sitting zazen!”

It is the same for me when I practice Tai Chi and when I’ve practiced Qigong. For the most part, I’m really happy to be there, despite being nervous about making mistakes or whatever other fear crops up when I’m learning something new in class. So the way I get myself through the fear is by using humor, or playing the fool or indulging in silliness.

But why the need for any coping mechanism? What’s so wrong about being new at something anyway and why do so many people try to rush through it (as if it ever ends!)?

I’ve noticed this in my Baguazhang class as well. Half the class already knows Baguazhang and the other half are completely new to it. Us newbies learn by following the more knowledgable students. This is fine by me and it actually helps, but there is little time spent in class for reflecting on what we’re doing. We walk into class and immediately go into drills. For an hour and a half non-stop. I poke fun at the masculine energy in the air, which in reality I don’t have a problem with, but there seems to be this rush to get through the beginning stages as quickly as possible. And you know, maybe that’s just my perspective, but it does make me wonder – where are we rushing to and why so quickly?

Okay, I have to admit…I’m a little scared of some of my Bagua classmates. I feel like such a girly-man in this class – and I’m a girl! Everyone’s all beefy, sweat’s flying everywhere (literally) and they’re barreling through the movements like I don’t know what. I finally stopped the teacher and blurted out, “Doooood, slow dooooooown! I can’t follow what the heck yer doin!”

Okay, I didn’t quite say it like that…But I was thinking it.

Despite feeling horrendously inadequate, this class was much better than the first one last week. Our first lesson in the land of Bagua was a wee bit chaotic and more closely resembled a three ring circus. Our teacher has decided only to focus on the Lion Form, since attempting to show us several different animal forms on the very first day left most of us frustrated and confused.

So far, this class feels a bit militaristic. There are lots of drills (which help – I’m definitely not complaining here!) and lots and lots of excited energy. When class begins, things are pretty low-key, but by the end there is an obvious electricity in the air. Maybe too much. It feels a bit unsettling and unbalanced. I don’t know. Perhaps I just feel lost without a closing movement, like in Tai Chi. Or maybe this display of martial manliness is a bit much for my very effeminate nature. I’m not sure.  Maybe I’m uncomfortable with my own martial manliness and should get in touch with that? Nah…

I should be fair. There is a lot more to Baguazhang than what I’m saying here and I’m oversimplifying a little. There is a lot that we don’t talk about in class. Actually, why don’t we talk about this stuff in class? For example, circle walking. In class, “walking the circle” is spoken like a punch in the face. Like, “yo, I’m gonna walk the circle so back off motha fucka!” From what I understand, walking the circle is not exactly a ho-down. In actuality, it

“dates back hundreds of years when Daoists would walk in circles to calm their mind as a form of meditation. The early Daoists repeated a mantra while walking the circle slowly with relaxed, comfortable and natural body movements.” (taken from my very credible google search on What is a Bagua Circle?)

I’m thinking I should be walking more circles…