PLUM BLOSSOM TIME – PART 2
(The long-promised follow up and “Lessons Learned” post about my experiences at the 2014 Plum Blossom Federation tournament in San Francisco)-
As I wrote in Part 1, this tournament was a great experience. Recent events have made me even more grateful for this experience. I became unemployed as of last Friday, so I’m even more grateful that I went while I could afford to make the trip. These tournaments are always great learning experiences, and this one was no exception.
Here are some lessons I took away from this tournament, along with some things I learned about myself:
Mentally, you need to be ready to go the minute you walk through the door. Certainly you want to stretch, warm up, and have some quiet time, but the schedules typically fluctuate at these events, and your event could come up sooner than you think. I was outside stretching and warming up when I heard the first call for my Tai Chi hand form event. I had to dash back in, and stash my backpack under one of the judges’ chairs because there wasn’t time to go back to my seat. This is where visualization comes in-I had already” walked through” my routine mentally shortly after I arrived at the arena earlier that morning.
You need to find a spot to warm up, and you may need to be a little aggressive in “claiming your territory” to do it, especially in a smaller venue. I’m not suggesting anyone act rudely, but once you begin your warmup, you don’t need to give that space up and move just because some people drift into that area and start socializing. They can always find another spot. I will say, though, that this type of practice should be limited to stretching and hand form practice-find a more isolated spot for weapons practice.
Every venue will have its quirks, and you simply have to deal with them-it’s part of being a martial artist and a competitor. For example, the Kezar Pavilion (site of the Plum Blossom tournament) is a very small venue. It doesn’t have a lot of open space where you can stretch, warm up, etc. This means you’ll probably end up outside, on a less than perfect surface. You need to be prepared for this mentally, so it doesn’t throw you off. Also, they don’t put down mats on the floor. You’re performing on a very shiny, slightly slick basketball floor, so it might help to wear different shoes than you normally would at school. (I’m glad I ended up not doing Push Hands this year; several competitors wearing the same kind of shoes I had slipped and nearly went down during their bouts.) After my “mad dash” to the first event, I learned that if I went outside and stayed near one of the emergency exit doors on the sides of the Pavilion (some of which were opened for ventilation), I could clearly hear all of the announcements, and get back inside in plenty of time for my event.
This tournament really showed me the value of staying relaxed, and just experiencing the whole event, without expecting everything to be “perfect” or to go a certain way. Keeping this in mind actually helped my confidence a lot when I went on the floor. Sure, I practiced a lot leading up to the tournament, but consciously choosing to stay relaxed built on that and really made the difference. I was much more aware of everything I was doing-not only did this state allow me to make some “real time” corrections in my form as I went along, it really enriched the whole experience. I had hoped that someone would get a snapshot or two of me performing, and was initially a bit disappointed when that didn’t happen. The more I reflected on it though, I realized that I had wanted a picture of myself, but didn’t NEED one to fully remember and reflect on my experiences – I know what I did that day, and what it felt like, because I was truly “there”.
The awareness also allowed some more of my natural determination to kick in-as so often happens, you’ll practice a particular part of your form multiple times and execute it perfectly, only to run into trouble when you actually perform. There is a toe kick sequence in my flute form, which I must have practiced 10-12 times outside and felt really strong doing it. Sure enough, during my performance, the right leg rose up into the crane and I started to feel wobbly. I had a quick internal argument with myself, where I debated tapping my toe and starting that section again. Ultimately, in my mind I said, “NO! I did not endure all of the practice, and come all this way, to let down now. I will hold my crane and do my kick, even if I look wobbly and score poorly because of it. I will NOT walk off this floor feeling disappointed in myself.” I held on, and finished the kick, although it was a bit shaky. (In the interest of full disclosure, though, when it turned out I’d tied for third and they asked me to come out onto the floor again, I was intensely relieved that the judges only asked us for a 30-second performance. This meant I wouldn’t need to do the kick again since it was near the end of the form. My feeling was more along the lines of, “Woo hoo! I get to go again!!’).
This was a significant competition and a significant performance for me in both events, and I’m so grateful I was able to go and participate.
Here are some lessons I took away from this tournament, along with some things I learned about myself:
Mentally, you need to be ready to go the minute you walk through the door. Certainly you want to stretch, warm up, and have some quiet time, but the schedules typically fluctuate at these events, and your event could come up sooner than you think. I was outside stretching and warming up when I heard the first call for my Tai Chi hand form event. I had to dash back in, and stash my backpack under one of the judges’ chairs because there wasn’t time to go back to my seat. This is where visualization comes in-I had already” walked through” my routine mentally shortly after I arrived at the arena earlier that morning.
You need to find a spot to warm up, and you may need to be a little aggressive in “claiming your territory” to do it, especially in a smaller venue. I’m not suggesting anyone act rudely, but once you begin your warmup, you don’t need to give that space up and move just because some people drift into that area and start socializing. They can always find another spot. I will say, though, that this type of practice should be limited to stretching and hand form practice-find a more isolated spot for weapons practice.
Every venue will have its quirks, and you simply have to deal with them-it’s part of being a martial artist and a competitor. For example, the Kezar Pavilion (site of the Plum Blossom tournament) is a very small venue. It doesn’t have a lot of open space where you can stretch, warm up, etc. This means you’ll probably end up outside, on a less than perfect surface. You need to be prepared for this mentally, so it doesn’t throw you off. Also, they don’t put down mats on the floor. You’re performing on a very shiny, slightly slick basketball floor, so it might help to wear different shoes than you normally would at school. (I’m glad I ended up not doing Push Hands this year; several competitors wearing the same kind of shoes I had slipped and nearly went down during their bouts.) After my “mad dash” to the first event, I learned that if I went outside and stayed near one of the emergency exit doors on the sides of the Pavilion (some of which were opened for ventilation), I could clearly hear all of the announcements, and get back inside in plenty of time for my event.
This tournament really showed me the value of staying relaxed, and just experiencing the whole event, without expecting everything to be “perfect” or to go a certain way. Keeping this in mind actually helped my confidence a lot when I went on the floor. Sure, I practiced a lot leading up to the tournament, but consciously choosing to stay relaxed built on that and really made the difference. I was much more aware of everything I was doing-not only did this state allow me to make some “real time” corrections in my form as I went along, it really enriched the whole experience. I had hoped that someone would get a snapshot or two of me performing, and was initially a bit disappointed when that didn’t happen. The more I reflected on it though, I realized that I had wanted a picture of myself, but didn’t NEED one to fully remember and reflect on my experiences – I know what I did that day, and what it felt like, because I was truly “there”.
The awareness also allowed some more of my natural determination to kick in-as so often happens, you’ll practice a particular part of your form multiple times and execute it perfectly, only to run into trouble when you actually perform. There is a toe kick sequence in my flute form, which I must have practiced 10-12 times outside and felt really strong doing it. Sure enough, during my performance, the right leg rose up into the crane and I started to feel wobbly. I had a quick internal argument with myself, where I debated tapping my toe and starting that section again. Ultimately, in my mind I said, “NO! I did not endure all of the practice, and come all this way, to let down now. I will hold my crane and do my kick, even if I look wobbly and score poorly because of it. I will NOT walk off this floor feeling disappointed in myself.” I held on, and finished the kick, although it was a bit shaky. (In the interest of full disclosure, though, when it turned out I’d tied for third and they asked me to come out onto the floor again, I was intensely relieved that the judges only asked us for a 30-second performance. This meant I wouldn’t need to do the kick again since it was near the end of the form. My feeling was more along the lines of, “Woo hoo! I get to go again!!’).
This was a significant competition and a significant performance for me in both events, and I’m so grateful I was able to go and participate.
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