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.
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.
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.
I started wondering if I would ever not feel like an idiot when practicing Tai Chi. Maybe a year from now…maybe two…
I found that thought a little discouraging.
But maybe feeling like an idiot is a good thing. Seriously. When you are feeling foolish, that is the ideal time to learn. Because how can you ever learn if you are over-confident and sure of yourself? It’s that kind of attitude that lands you flat on your face.
But then, on the other hand, it’s important not to get too discouraged lest you completely give up.
So I find myself in this weird balancing act between humility and confidence. I’ve noticed that this struggle begins right when I start over-thinking a movement.
This realization hit home in one of my last Baguazhang classes. I started doing a movement and in the very beginning I completely trusted myself and went with it. But then I started thinking about it, doubting myself, questioning my take on it. And that’s when it all got muddled. My teacher even pointed this out to me and I just had to laugh because it was true.
But maybe that’s just all part of the process – doubt being the springboard to a deeper practice. If you never questioned any of the movements, where would the heart of the practice be? Anyone can memorize a bunch of movements. As uncomfortable as it may be sometimes, I’m starting to think that doubt has a very real and valid place in practice. Because eventually, I would get through my doubt and the movement would be stronger and I could actually feel the difference.
It’s almost like meeting someone for the first time. I say hi. We shake hands. First impressions are good. There’s eye contact. But then the person says something to me that makes me question my first impression. I start to argue with them. They argue back. I push. They push back. I wrestle them to the floor and they defend themselves and wrestle back. This goes on for a while. A good while. Then finally I am exhausted. The other person is exhausted. We let go. We look at each other. There’s eye contact. And I realize. Holy shit. My first impression was right. This person is who I thought they were. And actually, there is a lot more to this person than I originally thought. I apologize. They apologize. We bow. A relationship is born.
Okay, maybe not exactly like meeting someone for the first time, but you still go through some mental wrestling whenever you establish a relationship to something or someone. You have to. Otherwise, it wouldn’t really mean anything to you, right?
So rather than resisting feeling like an idiot, maybe it’s better to just go with it. Feel like an idiot. Revel in it. Roll around with it. Doubt it and question it. At least it’s more fun that way…
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 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 kind of had a mini-nervous breakdown a few days ago. Which is weird cause it was a Sunday. Sundays are supposed to be my down days. The one day out of the week that I reserve to do whatever I want. Which usually means saying no to social events, staying in and reading for hours on end and then taking care of household chores and laundry. But on this particular Sunday I became completely overwhelmed. Thoughts kept creeping up on me one by one, stacking themselves higher and higher in my head until I just couldn’t hold them any longer. I came home from the grocery store and for no reason at all burst into tears the moment I walked into the kitchen.
After I had calmed down a little, I looked over and noticed a Zen book that was lying on the counter next to me. I picked it up, read a few words and immediately felt a wave of peace wash over me. A white butterfly flew by the window and I contemplated the ephemeral nature of our emotions, our lives, our dreams…
Just kidding.
But I did ask myself what the hell just happened. What was that?? Why am I so completely stressed out? And then it hit me – all of these “should” thoughts I’ve been thinking. I should sleep more. I should eat better. I should cook more often. I should read more. I should write more. I should write better. I should do more to improve my skills at work. I should save more money. I should travel more. I should practice Tai Chi more. I should meditate more. I should…I should…I should… It’s exhausting! And it’s never enough.
In light of this, I’ve decided I need to chill out a bit. No more torturing myself because I’m not doing enough. No more running myself into the ground because of just one more thing I feel I have to do. How did I get on this self-improvement roller coaster anyway? I didn’t even realize it was happening. When I started the year, I made resolutions based on becoming healthier in all aspects of my life, but I never intended them to take over my head and completely turn on me. The idea was to help myself become healthier, not make myself feel bad for not meeting ridiculous expectations.
This whole idea of self-improvement and perfection has come up a lot for me in all of my martial arts classes – in Tai Chi, Qigong and Baguazhang. It’s even come up for me while doing zazen (but that’s another story). I know full well that the idea of perfection is completely unrealistic and that self-improvement is pretty much a myth invented by publishers to promote their latest self-help books (I should know – I bought them all when I was in my twenties!). I know all of this and yet I fall for it every time.
Every time I approach something new and unfamiliar, I want to perfect it. I want to get it right. It’s almost as if I think being perfect will keep me safe or keep me from making mistakes or making a fool of myself. Yeah right! But since I really prefer not breaking down in my kitchen, I think it’s time to start letting this go and just enjoy learning. Isn’t that why I go to class every week? And why I practice at home every day?
Lately, I’ve started taking meditation more seriously. Meditation has been a part of my martial arts experience since I started, but it has never really been discussed in much depth. In my first Tai Chi class it was a small part of our warm up. In Qigong it was what we did in the last ten minutes of class. In Baguazhang…well, you’re supposed to reach a meditative state while doing lots and lots of drills. But even though it has never been seriously discussed, we are all, as martial arts students, expected to slough off our everyday minds so that we can be at one with the movements. So that we can become the movements. But what does that mean exactly? And what does it really mean to meditate? How do you know if you’re even doing it “right”?
There seems to be a lot of mystery surrounding meditation. At least, that was my initial impression. There is a prevailing belief floating around that meditation is supposed to take you somewhere, but where exactly would that be? For the purpose of martial arts, this isn’t really helpful. Meditation for me means remaining in the present moment. I don’t want to be anywhere else. Where would I go? I want to be here, practicing Tai Chi or Qigong or whatever else I’m doing. To become the movements, it is necessary to be in the moment completely, so that you no longer even think about yourself and completely forget you even have a self.
In Tai Chi I learned Standing Meditation. In Qigong we did short guided meditations where we visualized moving our qi up and down through the central meridian (or whatever meridian that is…). In Zen meditation – Zazen – which I am learning now, we sit facing a wall (this is Soto Zen, to be more precise).
I have stuck with both Standing Meditation and Zen meditation, or Zazen, because they have one thing in common – no one is telling me what to do. Also, while I enjoyed the guided meditations in my Qigong class, I cannot do them on my own at home, like I can Standing Meditation and Zazen (okay, technically I can, but it feels silly). And so I have developed my own routine – Standing Meditation and Tai Chi in the morning, Zazen at night before going to sleep.
But how do you know if you are doing it “right”? That’s the thing – there is no right way, really. Which I was kind of surprised to discover. There’s also nothing mysterious or magical about it. It’s simply a way of being in the present moment, being aware of your breath, the room around you and the thoughts that go in and out of your head every day and almost every moment.
It sounds so simple, yet can be so incredibly difficult sometimes…Still, meditation is an integral part of the internal martial arts and is actually one of the things I enjoy most about my practice.
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…
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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