But alas, I know that my ridiculous schedule will not allow me to post every day (trust me, I would if I could). However, I decided to jump in on a few of these since I really wanted to share in this blogger lovefest.
So the topic for today, December 7th is, “Blog find of the year. That gem of a blog you can’t believe you didn’t know about until this year.”
And this is why I knew I had to post something.
Because there is no question in my mind which blog this title belongs to.
Stumbling upon Penelope Trunk’s blog was a spiritual experience. Clouds parted. Angels sang. The earth cracked open. Whenever I get squeamish about hitting the publish button on an article (which is almost every time I publish an article), I think about Penelope. You don’t post something like, How to Decide How Much to Reveal About Yourself and not have serious guts.
Seriously.
She says things that my INFJ self only dreams about saying. And thus, I am inspired all the more.
In my Tai Chi world this year, I was absolutely delighted to see the revival of Real Taijiquan.
Mr. Smith’s blog was the first Tai Chi blog I came across when I first began my Tai Chi adventure almost two years ago and I continue to draw inspiration from his articles. Also, if it weren’t for him, I would have never known about Baguazhang and might never have worked up the nerve to actually take it (so, thank you!).
Okay, now YOU! Any fabulous blogs that you came across this year, that you’d like to share?
Never let your persistence and passion turn into stubbornness and ignorance. Anthony J. D’Angelo
…
I have finally emerged from a work and web design cocoon. In the past few weeks I’ve had to choose between writing and sleeping. Considering this is my first post in two weeks or so, I guess it goes without saying that sleep won…
This is what happens when you try to work 50 hours a week, take a Tai Chi class, take a Zazen class, practice both Tai Chi and zazen on a regular basis, try to have a social life and participate in a web design competition.
Actually, I don’t think I had a choice … sleep chose me!
Anyway, I have been doing a little reflecting on my Tai Chi practice and I realize that I’ve been doing everything all wrong! This doesn’t surprise me, but I am amazed at how being stubborn and remaining loyal to my first Tai Chi teacher has kept me from moving forward. When I first learned Tai Chi, I just didn’t pay attention to the subtle things like oh, I don’t know, posture, leg strength and the fact that the force was coming from my arms and not my center.
Kind of important stuff!
The more I practice though the more I realize that there is a method to this stubborn madness of mine. I cling to my old ways of doing Tai Chi because it is safe – because it is familiar. Even though it’s all wrong! But it is so much harder to let that go and accept new ways of doing things. Even if these new ways are better for me.
Oddly enough, I developed this stubbornness as a way to protect myself. And that’s okay – there’s nothing wrong with that. But this stubbornness has turned into a hindrance and has actually made my ability to learn much more difficult.
This is not to say that my first Tai Chi teacher didn’t know what he was doing. He was actually quite good. But without really knowing what I was doing, I attempted to copy him. Which is perfectly normal for a beginner, but I see the limitations of this now.
And it’s not something that I developed because of Tai Chi or anything like that. I actually brought this with me when I first started practicing. Seeing this now in my Tai Chi class has made me more aware of other aspects of my life where I’ve been too stubborn to move forward or just accept something the way it is (funny how that happens…).
This makes me wonder – what else have I been missing? What other subtleties have I completely overlooked simply because I’ve been too stubborn to notice?
I am no longer a newbie. Okay, technically I still am. But I have been practicing long enough now that I can no longer really cling to my, “Well, I’m just a newbie” excuse. If I’m really going to get serious (me, serious?) about Tai Chi, then I’m going to have to be a lot more disciplined in my practice.
At the moment, I do standing meditation in the mornings and some Silk Reeling exercises. All in all, about 20 minutes – closer to 30 minutes when I’m actually enrolled in a class. Which is good for just starting out, but now? Not sure that’s going to cut it. Damn. This means I’m going to have wake up earlier (I’m not very good at that, despite the fact that I love mornings).
I’ve talked about how being a newbie can be nerve-wracking, but what about that place in the middle? Where you’re not quite a newbie anymore, but you’re definitely not an expert either? This place kind of sucks too. Only here, you don’t have that bright-eyed wonder and oh-my-god-i’m-amazed-by-everything kind of feeling. You know (most) of the moves and you also know you suck (well, I know I suck – I shouldn’t speak for anyone else).
It’s the end of the romance. The mystery is gone (or so you think) and reality smacks you in the face like a big, wet Italian noodle. No longer can you sit back and expect the teacher to just fill your head with new stuff. You have to make an effort. Not that you didn’t make an effort to practice before, but now it’s more obvious than ever when you don’t. You have to commit to doing it or face drowning in excuse after excuse.
I have to say that writing this blog has helped me do this. It has helped me remain motivated and disciplined. It is a very public way of holding myself accountable. Patrick Reynolds does this with his Peak Condition Project. And for good reason. It’s a lot harder to back out of something or slack off when you’ve made such a public commitment.
Why such a hard line focus on accountability and commitment? Because I’m a badass! Okay, not really. Actually, I just think it makes me a better person. And I also really, really want to know Tai Chi. Not just a few moves to show people at parties (I’m kidding – no one *ever* asks me about Tai Chi at parties. Unless I bring it up. Which I try to avoid since most people’s eyes tend to glaze over…). I have never been a very athletic person and most of my challenges have been intellectual, so a part of this is challenging myself on a completely different level. But Tai Chi also makes me feel better – physically and mentally. I am a much more pleasant person to be around when I do Tai Chi.
I think.
And I may never be as good as this chic (I think she has been practicing since she was a zygote), but I still love it…
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 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.
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