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.).
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.
Okay. I did it. I joined the twitter brigade. But not for me – for my blog! I am now a tweep. Or a twit, I don’t know which (maybe both!)… If you’re into twitter, follow me. I’ll be posting Tai Chi and martial arts related goodies. I run across a lot of really great articles, videos and martial arts nuggets on the web that don’t always fit into my blog articles. So now they’ll just live on twitter rather than in my head.
Speaking of nuggets, Buddhist Geeks did a wonderful interview recently with Kenneth Cohen, renowned Qigong and Tai Chi practitioner and author of The Way of Qigong (an excellent book by the way) about tea and his training with Japanese tea master Millie Johnstone. There’s a transcript available if you can’t access the podcast or prefer reading. Check it out!
Most people associate Tai Chi with peace, solemnity and seriousness, but I’ve found these expectations more of a hindrance than a guide. I began Tai Chi in a very shy, serious way, because I was intimidated by the practice. Tai Chi was, to me, this mysterious, ancient martial art that required a disciplined grace that seemed completely foreign to me, but for which I secretly yearned. On the day of my very first Tai Chi class, I was worried I’d have to reveal some deep, spiritual reason for wanting to pursue it. At the time, I just wanted to relieve the enormous heap of stress I felt. I was elated and relieved when the teacher walked into the room, threw down his duffel bag and wordlessly began the warm-ups.
I continued practicing in this serious manner until one day, well into our Tai Chi class, I started joking around with my partner during Push Hands. Our laughter gently rippled through the classroom and all at once I surprised myself and began to relax. I discovered that in Tai Chi, as well as Qigong, there is a certain humor that emerges when I finally allow myself to relax and stop taking myself and my practice so seriously.
I was reminded of this last week during Silk Reeling. I was trying very hard to remain connected in each movement. To not swing my arms ahead of my body and to not speed up. My teacher walked up, stood in front of me and said,
“Are you comfortable?”
“No,” I laughed.
To which she smiled and adjusted my arms and my back.
“Try it again this way.”
The adjustment was subtle, but the difference was amazing. I could feel a warmth through the center of my body and my arms and my legs felt completely in sync. I lit up. Holy crap! That’s what she was talking about! I felt relaxed and connected all at the same time, without the tension I had felt before. I smiled and found it humorous that for all my concentration and effort, I was only making myself more tense.
There is a really great story from Kenneth Cohen’s book, The Way of Qigong, in which he asks a prominent Qigong master what he should do if a student has serious emotional difficulties and begins to cry while doing Standing Meditation. His reply? That the student should relax. Puzzled, he asks “But what if this only made matters worse?” Again, the Qigong master replies, that the student simply needs to relax.
I’d like to add to that and say, that perhaps the student also needs to laugh! Not a giddy, overexcited laughter, mind you. But a laugh that comes from releasing all that tension and relaxing into the moment, not taking yourself or your practice too seriously.
Next week I begin another class. Baguazhang. My Tai Chi Silk Reeling class will end in June and there will not be another class until September, so I’m taking this opportunity to learn something a little different. Actually it’s A LOT different. Baguazhang is very much a fighting martial art, as much as it is internal. I’ve been reluctant to pursue any of the harder martial arts like Kung Fu (which Baguazhang is a type), because I wasn’t looking to be a fighter. I didn’t want to fight. I got into way too many fights as young teenager and I didn’t want to bring that anger out again and refuel it. But what I didn’t realize before getting into Tai Chi and Qigong is that the martial arts – even the hard martial arts – are not about perpetuating anger and in fact are more about understanding it and accepting it, so that it doesn’t control you or overwhelm you. How wrong I was before! So I am excited to see how this goes. Here is a clip of my teacher, Kuan Wang, demonstrating a few moves from Baguazhang. I’m intrigued by his choice of music. This could be interesting…
Back in April was World Tai Chi and Qigong Day. I didn’t go. I kind of like to sleep in on Saturdays… But some of my classmates went to the celebration here in Austin and said it was great. There was one comment made though that disturbed me. Someone mentioned that to them, it looked like the Asian martial artists that were present just naturally performed the movements better than anyone else (actually, the word Oriental was used, but I won’t go into that here…).
Wait, what was that? Did I hear that correctly?
I’d like to take a moment and say that the martial arts are not a part of the genetic make-up of the Asian population (which is a hugely broad term anyway!), no more than cowboy boots are a part of the genetic make-up of Texans (I have never worn a pair of cowboy boots. Nor have I ever owned any. And no, I did not ride a horse to school every day! Although, that would have been kinda cool…). You only become good at martial arts by practicing. A LOT. Some people have been practicing since they were kids, like this young feller, so “naturally” it would make sense if they were better than others who, like myself, have only been practicing for little over a year.
So enough with the “Asians are better at martial arts” thing. It’s just not true. You know when someone is practicing a movement correctly. You can see it. And it is not dependent on if they are Asian or not.
Now that my Qigong class has ended, I thought I’d do a recap to show you some of the things I’ve learned, rather than expose you, my dear readers (all three of you – thank you) to more of my silly ramblings. I also feel a tad bit guilty writing about my class here. Why? Because it’s always going to be one-sided – mine. Which is nice for me, but it’s not really a true discussion. I feel like I may not have always been fair to my teacher and maybe to a few of my classmates. I’ve tried my best to be honest here, though and never mean. Hopefully none of my thoughts here have come across that way.
Weird thing is (well, maybe it’s not that weird), by asking why and questioning this class and my teacher I actually feel like I got more out of the class than I might have had I not been so inquisitive. Granted I may have been influenced by one too many Zen books recently, but still, I am intrigued by how much this class has changed me. My teacher also said some things during our last class that truly resonated with me. My teacher has always espoused the benefits of giving and receiving love and of cultivating genuine feelings of happiness. Yes, yes I thought, I understand that but I can’t be happy all the time. Who can? And not be put in a loony bin? This time though, he still emphasized love and happiness, but also balance.
“Enjoy the tired!” or “Enjoy the pain!” he would say during a particularly uncomfortable stance. We would laugh, but it was true. It’s important to appreciate every moment, not just the moments that feel good to you.
“Sometimes,” he said, “bad is good for you and good is bad.”
Meaning, what may seem like a really bad situation, say, getting fired, may actually result in something good – you get fired, but then land an even better paying and personally satisfying job somewhere else. And what may seem good at the time, like landing the best job you ever thought possible, turns out to be a nightmare – you find yourself working 80 hours a week, you hate your boss and you have no personal life. I actually experienced that one myself. I didn’t work 80 hours a week, but the job I thought was my dream job turned out to be nothing like I thought it would be. It was a very disheartening realization (a major understatement), but one I’m glad I had.
Okay, okay enough rambling. Here is a brief recap of some of the things I’ve learned. But first, what the heck is Sheng Zhen Qigong? I’ll quote the Sheng Zhen website, since they say it best:
“Sheng Zhen Wuji Yuan Gong is a system of moving and non-moving meditations. Although it appears to be similar to the traditional forms of Chinese qigong and gives all the benefits of traditional qigong such as healing and the strengthening and balancing of the mind and body, it is much more than that. The postures and movements of Wuji Yuan Gong have messages and mental images which are contemplated as they are being practiced. When practiced diligently and with sincerity, from within, one begins to find answers to the deepest questions in life. Far from just being a practice that enhances one’s health Wuji Yuan Gong then also becomes a vehicle for the transformation of consciousness. In time, it brings one to the experience of one’s original nature, which is Love.”
Back in January when I first started practicing, we learned these movements, which are demonstrated here by my teacher’s daughter. You’ll have to actually click the link to view it since embedding has been disabled. The movements we learned recently are called Kuan Yin Standing Qigong, which I believe means “Compassion” (Update: Ah, I should do more research – Kaun Yin is the bodhisattva of compassion. Jesus Christ, you mean I’ve been learning Buddhism this whole time???). Here’s another video demonstrating this. Try to ignore the sleepy lady talking through the movements. I actually prefer to mute it, but hey, you might actually enjoy the sleepy lady. And that’s okay too (haha – points finger and laughs. just kidding).
That’s it from me as far as Sheng Zhen Qigong! If you’d like to learn more, I recommend going to the Sheng Zhen Qigong website. I’ve only taken Sheng Zhen Qigong for five months and there is a lot that I don’t know, so if you are intrigued and want to learn more that is the best place to start.
There is a man in my Qigong class who is simply hopeless, but his committment to Qigong is steadfast and impressive. He very rarely misses a class. During the movements he closes his eyes and swings his arms in the air haphazardly, out of sync with everyone else in the class. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, it’s hard not to wonder where he’s going in his head. Why doesn’t he look at the teacher? Why does he act like he’s dreaming or in some other reality? Despite his committment he usually comes in late, after we’ve already started the first few movements. More than once, he’s stood at the edge of the class as if he were afraid to disturb anyone. Last time this happened I gently grabbed his arm and pulled him into the center of class. Those around me welcomed him over and made room for him, which he seemed a little surprised by.
In our last Qigong class, our teacher decided to put on a tape for us to listen to as we went through the movements. I heard gentle windchimes and then a woman’s voice began to speak in a slow, monotone voice. I was puzzled. Why were we listening to a tape when we had the teacher right here? And why was she talking like a hypnotist? I started to smile. It all seemed so beautifully absurd. Here we were in a classroom with the teacher playing a tape of someone else talking us through the movements, all of us doing our best to keep up and also trying to reach some unattainable relaxed state of unconditional love and happiness all at the same time. That in and of itself made me happy. I decided I would go through each movement and just have fun with it. I was never going to be perfect at it anyway and honestly, I didn’t have to be. That wasn’t the point.
I’m having a hard time actually putting that point into words. There’s something endearing and honest about my classmate’s hopeless efforts at practicing Qigong. But is it really hopeless? By what standard? And who made that standard anyway? Since when did being perfect at something ever make someone a better person? Doesn’t that miss the whole point? The point being…being…just…being. Yeah. What’s wrong with just being there? I kinda like that…
In Qigong class, I was again kind of out of it. I had been accumulating a whole heap of thoughts and emotions that were running amok in my head and that I could not let go of. The beginning of class felt normal and I was starting to think that perhaps I was finding solid ground again. But then on break, I noticed a woman tapping the top of her head, then her wrists, and then her temples, all while looking intently in front of her. My classmate inquired about what she was doing. It’s called EFT – Emotional Freedom Techniques®. The idea is that, if you have a problem or emotional reaction that is particularly strong, you can tap the meridian points on your body while concentrating on an affirmation. It’s similar to acupuncture, only without the needles. I don’t like to knock anyone for trying to make themselves healthier, but I was not impressed. I was even more disheartened when the woman started talking about her website and how she did EFT for a living and could teach my classmate. How nice of her!
Now, I love acupuncture and I would never have believed it was legitimate if I hadn’t tried it myself. But I also know that belief is a powerful tool to making yourself feel better. If you believe it is going to work, it probably will! I also accept the fact that acupuncture is successful for me, because I believe in it. If I didn’t believe in it, I’d probably write it off as just another hokie new age practice. Acupuncture to me, works much like a mirror – it allows me the opportunity to slow down, reflect and chill the frick out, but it is not what makes me feel better. That is up to me. My acupuncturist is not a magician, nor does she hold the secrets of the universe, nor can she cure the impossible. That is only up to the individual, in my humble opinion…
So this is why the tapping woman kind of irritated me. I don’t want to sound mean or close-minded, but honestly, it just sounded like b.s. and I wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Not to mention it reminded me of a conversation I had had many months ago with someone I cared about immensely, but who ultimately didn’t really care a whole lot about me. That triggered a whole other chain reaction of thoughts and emotions. When class finally resumed I wanted to run from the dojo as fast as possible. I wanted to bolt. But I stayed and concentrated on the movements with more seriousness than I’d ever mustered before. Anything, I thought, to keep me from bursting into tears right here in the middle of class. The new agers would be all over me then, asking me about my feelings, and then I’d really be screwed.
When class was finally over I went home, but no longer felt like bursting into tears or dwelling on my sad thoughts. I felt good actually and that made me think, that despite all the b.s. surrounding the practice of Qigong, there is something to it that works for me. There is something there worth pursuing and wading through the silliness and all the drama that it attracts. I’ll keep at it until class ends in a few weeks and hopefully take this with me as I get back into Tai Chi.
No, no, no. No more talk of unconditional love. No more pontificating on the meaning of life. No more talking. I just want to do Qigong. In class this past week I felt disconnected and aloof. Not like me at all (well, in class anyway). A couple of students started chatting about how it’s possible to pick up negative energy from someone else and carry it with you. Our teacher started talking about all the exotic places he would be visiting this summer. At the end of class, everyone gathered around him to hear his words on why cultivating unconditional love and happiness are important to your health and the quality of your life. All of this seemed to run together and turn into something like a pop song I’ve heard on the radio a thousand times. I like the song, but I’ve heard it so many times that it’s starting to lose its original meaning for me. I really wanted to go back to the time before when it was fresh, new and made me want to sing along.
I didn’t really feel like singing along this time and a part of me kind of felt guilty for that. At the same time, I can’t deny that I’ve been feeling just a bit disillusioned with my practice. Well, actually it’s not my practice really. On that I am clear. I love practicing Qigong and I love practicing Tai Chi. It’s when philosophical underpinnings get tacked onto my practice that I start squirming.
On the other hand, I think these philosophical underpinnings are very important. I absolutely agree with my teacher that cultivating unconditional love and happiness are important to creating health and improving your quality of life. I think more people should consider this. Especially the employees of the Ruzyne International Airport in Prague (if you’ve never experienced customer service in a former Communist country, I highly recommend it.). However, in the context of this class, it feels strange to me. Even though that’s what initially attracted me to the class. Absurd!
I guess it goes back to my resistance to teachers in general. I have believed in philosophies and people who I discovered later on were completely full of crap. Needless to say, it’s a very disillusioning experience to find that everything you believed in wholeheartedly and passionately was in reality a complete fabrication. It’s made me just a wee bit gun-shy (is that the word I’m looking for? I don’t know.).
I have no solution here by the way. I’ll just keep on practicing. Because I love it. And I’ll keep on questioning my teacher, while (hopefully) remaining humble and open to learning. It’s a weird compromise, but the only one that satisfies me at the moment.
I recently got another acupuncture treatment to celebrate my birthday. Perhaps getting poked with tiny needles is not everyone’s ideal birthday gift, but it sure is mine! I love acupuncture and I tell all my friends about how wonderful it is. All the time. It’s kind of a running joke now. If any of my friends or family start complaining about an ache or a pain I’ll get all serious and tell them, well, I think I know what would help…and they say, yes? And I reply, acupuncture! Then they roll their eyes, laugh or try to punch me. Not really, but it would be funny.
This acupuncture treatment was a little different than the rest, in that, it didn’t affect me as much as it usually does. I go to acupuncture treatments to relieve stress. I have a tendency to get completely wound up, so acupuncture helps me to relax. I mean really relax. It’s awesome. Usually after acupuncture, nothing bothers me. Somebody could come up to me with a knife and I’d probably try to shake his hand. Or talk to him about acupuncture. But this time around, I didn’t get that feeling of extreme relaxation. I took this as a good sign. Since I’ve been practicing my Qigong more (in part due to the comments on this blog – thank you!), I feel pretty relaxed most of the time. It’s really weird. I don’t feel quite so overwhelmed and I’m able to get through stressful moments with more humor and grace. It’s kind of nice!
I will never be free of stress. That’s just a given. But it’s nice to know that I can deal with it now instead of getting totally wrapped up in it all the time. I expect I will get overwhelmed in the future. I will get stressed out of course. And if that happens I will definitely go back and get another acupuncture treatment. And practice my Qigong, which, I know I will probably slack on at some point. But that’s okay. As long as I keep practicing. I love it too much to completely give it up.
Perhaps I should start practicing with David Carradine? Or get one of these outfits…
I just started reading, Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury and was just about knocked over by the preface – the preface! The thing that no one ever reads!
He asks,
“How long has it been since you wrote a story where your real love or your real hatred somehow got onto the paper? When was the last time you dared release a cherished prejudice so it slammed the page like a lightning bolt? What are the best things and the worst things in your life, and when are you going to get around to whispering or shouting them?”
I can’t argue with that. Reading those words, it’s very obvious to me that, despite my best intentions, I’ve been hiding – in my writing, in my Qigong practice and in my relationships. I’ve been afraid to really put my heart into something I care about. Oh I try…but trying is not the same as putting your whole heart into it, or telling yourself, fear be damned, I’m going for it.
In my search for peace and a sense of balance, I have to wonder, have I just been looking for a way not to feel? In pursuing Qigong, am I kidding myself that I am really facing my fears or am I just looking for a way to outrun them, so that I can enjoy a few moments of tingly feel-goodness? I like to think that I am facing my fears, because there is something about slowing down that makes you reflect on things you might not otherwise get around to fully acknowledging. However, I do feel that a part of me wishes that I could stay within that inbetween place, where you are not happy, sad, angry or disillusioned, because in that space you do not risk anything. But that is the most unfortunate of places.
When it comes down to it, Qigong – and writing for that matter – make me feel alive. Perhaps I should fully embrace that, rather than go through each movement and each word with hesitation and the fear of truly revealing myself.
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.
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