Trauma 143-Part 2

Continued from Part 1....

Trauma 143 - Part 2

The master in the desert

“My life has been lived in two halves. The first was becoming a world champion driver. The second is teaching the world to become champions.”

Bob Bondurant, founder and CEO-Bob Bondurant School of High Performance Driving

For the final stage of my accident recovery, and to grow beyond it, I began searching for a driving school where I could learn some specific accident avoidance techniques. Specifically, I wanted to learn skid and spin recovery techniques, but more importantly, to actually experience being in a skidding or spinning car in a safe and controlled environment, and to get some concentrated practice in these new skills and techniques. I wanted a lot of what racing drivers call “seat time.” I felt that the combination of these things would help me face and alleviate my fears about driving (and potential accidents), and would restore and build upon the confidence I had lost in my driving ability.

After a lot of research, I decided to enroll in the two-day High Performance Driving course at the Bob Bondurant School of High Performance Driving in Chandler, Arizona. Just as my Grandmaster, Doc-Fai Wong, is a Kung Fu master, Bob Bondurant is a master of speed and car control. He was a successful racer in the 60s, who discovered his talents for teaching driving in 1966 when he was hired as a consultant for a movie called "Grand Prix."

When his own racing career ended due to a severe accident, Bondurant founded his driving school, and has been at it ever since. As I write this, the school is celebrating its 47th anniversary at its 60 acre facility in the desert outside Phoenix. Similar to Grandmaster Wong’s lineage of Sifus and instructors, Bondurant has passed his methods down to a new generation of driving instructors.

Look ahead-Be smooth-Be accurate

The High Performance Driving course is serious, practical knowledge you can use every day on the road. I felt like a little bit of an “outsider” at first-most of the class were serious car enthusiasts, who owned high performance vehicles of their own. But when I stood up in class and explained why I was there, it was clear to everyone how serious I was about improving my skills, and the entire group gave me a warm welcome. After a tour of the school and a brief classroom session, I climbed into the driver's seat of a Camaro which would be my "office" and rolling classroom for the next two days-it was time to go to work.

We began with a simple (or so we thought) slalom between traffic cones, and moved on very quickly from that to other exercises, including Bondurant’s famous “Skid Car” (a specially modified sedan, which the instructor can put into a skid from their spot in the passenger seat while you’re driving). The desert air and sky may have felt wintry, but out on the 8 acre asphalt practice area, engines, brakes, and tires were heating up as we practiced our new skills over and over again under the watchful eye of our instructors.

Occasionally they would hop in the car and ride along with us, to provide comments and corrections as we drove through the different exercises. The pace of the instruction was intense, and I loved it-I wanted to absorb as much as I possibly could.

We ended the day with a 20 minute "Lead and Follow" session around the school's 1.6 mile, 15-turn road race course. The instructors pointed out that this was driving practice, not a race, and we were to stay in line, watch the instructor in the lead car closely, and follow his line through every corner. This was a challenging and demanding exercise, mentally and physically-imagine driving on a mountain road, where you have to steer a car through over 200 turns in 20 minutes.

As the first day ended, I was worn out, but excited and motivated at the same time. The specific instruction and positive coaching was great, but on a deeper level I realized that I’d found exactly what I needed. During the day, I became aware that it wasn’t just the instructors encouraging and challenging me – I was “coaching” myself as well. The methods and culture of the school had created an atmosphere where I felt motivated to challenge and push myself, and that would ultimately do more to restore my confidence than anything else we did in the class.

Tai Chi in the Skid Car

As our classroom instruction and in-car practice went on, I began to see similarities between what I was doing in the car, and my martial arts training. The instructors talked a lot about “vehicle dynamics”- how a car under acceleration will shift more weight to the rear wheels, while a car under braking will shift weight to the front wheels. As we tried different exercises, and practiced cornering and braking techniques, the instructors would quiz us afterward-"Where is the weight?" "What do you want the car to do?" Just as being aware of my stance and staying rooted helps my martial arts forms, this awareness of vehicle dynamics and weight distribution began to help my driving.

After my first session in the Skid Car, it hit me that skid recovery has some similarities to Push Hands practice in Tai Chi. You must sense the energy and direction of the car, then redirect it in the direction you want to go, in order to recover from the skid and regain control of the car. Visualizing this helped me to stay focused during these exercises.

Final Laps

The second day included another Skid Car session, plus some emergency braking exercises, and a lot of work on the track to refine our shifting and braking techniques. The emergency braking exercise began with a rather exciting demonstration ride in a Chevy Tahoe with our instructor-even a vehicle that large can safely come to a stop in a VERY short distance!

We also did an autocross exercise, which is a solo timed run on a marked road course. Nature provided some additional challenges with a midday thunderstorm, so we had to chart a different line through some of the turns to avoid the puddles. I was pleased to see my times improve with every run.

Then it was on to our last session on the track, which was even more enjoyable than the first, thanks to my newly acquired cornering and braking skills. The track session took on something of a serene, Zen-like quality, even with the noise and motion of the car. It was one of those times where you find peace in the midst of a lot of sound and action.

The world narrowed down to the track and the car-I was aware of other cars on the track, but my senses were all tuned to the spot on the track the car would be in the next six seconds, and being consistent in my technique: Scan the corner. Hard brake. Turn in and trail brake. Steer to the apex of the corner and release. Downshift. Look ahead to exit point and upshift. Let out the steering and accelerate out. And so it went, corner after corner.

I was a bit sad as we pulled off the track at the end of the day, because I knew this great experience was coming to an end. I would miss the fun of learning, and comparing notes with my classmates about how we each dealt with the challenges in the car. But I also felt really uplifted and confident- any trauma remaining from the accident was released, and my skill and confidence had risen to a new level. I was a different driver, and a different person, than the one who had walked into the school just the day before.

Plum Blossom Time-Part 1

Originally posted on FB September 20, 2014-

PLUM BLOSSOM TIME - PART 1

After attending last year’s Plum Blossom Federation tournament as a spectator, I knew I’d want to return and participate as a competitor. I look forward to the Dragon Cup, and my experiences there have been great, but this tournament is something special. You really get the sense that you’re part of a much larger martial arts community, expanding outward from your own school to the other White Dragon schools and the various other Federation schools, including Grandmaster Wong’s own school in San Francisco.

My goal for this tournament was actually quite simple-I wanted to do the same events/forms I did at the Dragon Cup, only much better. This drove my training plan, and allowed me to train mostly on my own, while continuing my lessons and working toward my fringe. Although I mainly trained on my own, I had a lot of resources to draw on. Instructor comments and corrections from my private lessons and in group classes were applied to my tournament hand form to improve it (you can never work on details too much in Tai Chi). I also found some of the photos we took at the Dragon Cup to be helpful in picking up details on the flute form.

As so often happens when preparing for an event like this, other life events can drain you or pull you away from what you want to do. With the Dragon Cup, it was work stress and minor nagging aches and pains. This time around, I not only had stress and anxiety at work, I faced a family crisis when my mother passed away suddenly in July. I pondered not going to the tournament, but decided to press on and carve out as much personal time as I could to train. The tournament, and preparation for it, became something of a relief valve for me-time just for me, where I could step away from everything else and recharge by focusing on the entire tournament experience. While I still wanted to improve and do well, my main focus shifted to just being there and experiencing it all. (This all influenced my decision to not enter the Push Hands event in this tournament-I was simply running out of training and practice time. I also suspected the level of competition would be higher than what I was capable of; watching the event during the tournament proved me right. Something to work toward for next year.)

In the end, I achieved my goal - my performance in both events was much improved over my Dragon Cup performances. This was validated not only by my numerical scores, but by my own awareness of what I was doing (more on that shortly). I also was fortunate enough to run into a senior instructor who had judged one of my events (weapon form) at the Dragon Cup. He saw my flute form performance and complimented me on my improvement.

Even taking into account variations in consistency, rigor in grading, and simply personal preferences among judges, it was still very gratifying to see my scores in the Plum Blossom tournament. In hand form (24 Step), I got a 6.1, 6.2, and 6.4. In Open Weapon form (flute), I scored 7.2, 7.4, and 7.6. (In this tournament, you get to see your score from each judge and they score you in 10th of a point increments). I was quite excited to tie for third in the weapon form competition-although I did not medal, I was very pleased to do as well as I did in a group of 14 competitors, the great majority of whom were 2 (or more) ranks above me.

Overall, it was a great day, and one I'll remember for a long time. 

Scroll down to the next post for Part 2......

Plum Blossom Time-Part 2

Originally posted on FB November 25, 2014-

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.

Grief

One of my favorite Dean Koontz quotes, in memory of my mother (Originally posted on FB July 27, 2014)-

“Grief can destroy you --or focus you. You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone. OR you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it.

 

But when it's over and you're alone, you begin to see that it wasn't just a movie and a dinner together, not just watching sunsets together, not just scrubbing a floor or washing dishes together or worrying over a high electric bill. It was everything, it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it.

 

The answer to the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it, you can't get off your knees for a long time, you're driven to your knees not by the weight of the loss but by gratitude for what preceded the loss. And the ache is always there, but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take solace in it, is to disrespect the gift of life.”

Dean Koontz, from "Odd Hours"

"I Have A Story...."

Originally posted on FB May 25, 2014-

"I have a story...."

These words came out of my mouth Saturday morning, and led to an awesome experience. The White Dragon martial arts schools (the entire chain, not just my school), are updating their website, and had asked for students to share testimonials about their martial arts experience. Now, as much as I've written about my martial arts training and adventures, sitting down in front of a video camera and talking about it is the last thing I thought I'd ever do. So, my initial reaction was, "not me."

Still, I wanted to support the effort, so Saturday morning, I headed over to the filming site (the Mira Mesa school). The intent was to film the interviews against the backdrop of a group class in session, so White Dragon invited anyone who was interested to attend group classes at the filming site that day. I figured my contribution would be to perform in the background as an "extra" (which I did). Until I arrived at the school, this was still my plan.

On the way over, I was thinking about my accident in January. It was on my mind since part of the weekend's agenda was to go through the increasing pile of insurance and medical paperwork related to it. I was also thinking about my upcoming trip to the dentist; as it turns out, some of my dental work (crowns) was damaged in the impact, so I've got another thing to deal with related to the accident.

I arrived at school, got into uniform, and went out onto the mat for group class. One of the instructors was making the rounds, offering everyone a "last chance" at signing up for a video interview. She asked us if anyone were willing to talk about how training at White Dragon had changed their life, or "if you just have a story."

Something about what she said lit up the idea/inspiration area in my brain. I raised my hand, and said,

"I have a story."

The videos were done in an informal interview format; one of the Sifus from the other schools interviewed me. After introducing myself (and mentioning my school :-) ), we talked a bit about how I'd gotten interested in Tai Chi in particular, the challenges I'd faced in training, and the gains I'd made in my martial arts work.

He also asked me about my most significant memory (this year's Dragon Cup), and then asked me what I considered my greatest victory in martial arts so far.

I said, "my martial arts training helped me survive the most violent encounter of my life-but not in the way you might think."

I went on to tell him about how the improvement in my conditioning helped me to get through my auto accident in January; I believe my improved flexibility aided in absorbing/reacting to the impact of the crash, as well as helping my recovery from the injuries I did suffer. I also talked about how the awareness and focus I've learned through martial arts is helping me deal with my accident-related PTSD issues.

I closed the interview by encouraging anyone interested in martial arts to give it a try, and commented on the very supportive atmosphere at my school (and all the others, I'm sure).

I'm not sure if they will use my interview, but I'm glad I did it. Several people came up to me afterward and thanked me for sharing my story, so even if I only reached/helped someone in the room, it was worth it.

I overheard some things in the other interviews which touched my heart as well. One of the reasons I got into Tai Chi was specifically to improve my balance and coordination-it's something I have struggled with all my life, and continues to be a challenge in my practice (although I have improved quite a bit from when I started). I was surprised and touched to hear several men in my own age bracket speak along the same lines. I was especially touched by one gentleman who spoke about having self-esteem issues related to doing "physical stuff", even after achieving a lot of success in the military and in the business world.

Hearing that brought back a lot of memories of my own struggles with physical activity growing up (see my early post, "Grace"). It was just another reminder that, even though each of our stories is unique to us, we are rarely, if ever, truly alone in dealing with feelings like this, and the memories and feelings of the boys we once were can stay with us a long, long, time.

It was a special and emotional day that I'll remember for a long, long time.

Dragon Cup 2014

Originally posted on FB May 6, 2014-

DRAGON CUP REPORT

Over the last couple of days, I've really enjoyed all of the online photo sharing, commenting, and general bantering about the fun and adventures everybody had at Saturday's Dragon Cup. Now, I'd like to put down some more serious thoughts and recollections.

First, I'm really pleased overall with how well I was able to follow my plan in prepping for the tournament and for tournament day itself. I was comfortable, well rested and hydrated, and didn't feel stressed. An improvement over last year. Looking ahead, I'll do more warm up exercise than I did this year, but overall it was a positive.

Whoever said, "80% of success is showing up" could have been talking about my Push Hands experience. As one of only 3 competitors in my division I was basically guaranteed a medal-but I didn't know that until I showed up and competed. I originally thought, "that's cool-it will help our school standing" when I received my medal, but as the weekend went on, something became more and more clear to me:

I may not have defeated anyone in the ring, but by showing up and competing, I realized I had prevailed over a number of things , including minor injuries, an 18 hour work/travel day on Monday, and my own doubts about competing in Push Hands. I will keep the medal.

I'm proud of my school's turnout-hope to see even more of my El Cajon brothers and sisters out on the floor next year. I also continue to be impressed with all of the hard work from the judges-hope I remembered to thank them at each of my events.

While I didn't medal in each event per my original goals, I did have a big "win" in that I was able to stay calm and project confidence when I stepped into the ring. I'm proud of that.

One Night At Practice....

Originally posted on Facebook April 17, 2014-

Good class and practice session tonight. We did our Tai Chi outside because the adult sparring class was working in the main room. It was chilly outside (does not feel like April), but a very slow run-through of the 24 Step form got us warmed up. Went inside for a little bit of standing meditation. All of this apparently got me more relaxed and focused than I realized:

Toward the end of my solo practice session, I was working on some details of my weapon form, particularly the opening move. In this move you do an inward swing and strike, finishing with your elbow down and palm facing upward. In the last 6 inches or so, you flick your wrist a bit and "snap" the flute. I was working on the details and timing of this, and flicked a bit too much, "snapping" the weapon right out of my hand.

What happened next was really cool-everything sort of went into slow motion, as the flute did a 180 degree flat spin in the air in front of me. I swear I could feel my eyes moving as they tracked it, and my hand just stayed open, rotated a bit and shifted left about 3 inches, to basically let the flute come back into my hand. No grabbing for it, no jerky reaction, it all just happened-pretty cool!! I will NOT attempt a repeat of this at the tournament.

Reflections On The Learning Process

Originally posted on Facebook, April 12, 2014-

Wow-Some things have started coming together in my martial arts practice in a most interesting way, really just over the last few days. Throughout my life, every so often I've had a recurring sequence of events occur when I was trying to learn something-typically some type of physical activity. I'd reach a point in the process where I knew in my heart that I was just not connecting with the teaching method being used, and I probably never would. This usually led to a lot of frustration, sadness, harsh self-criticism, and going into a kind of passive withdrawal. The end result was either quitting the activity, or holding my frustrations in until things just boiled over, with unpleasant results for everyone around me.

Over the years, I learned to deal with this by essentially figuring out how to get what I needed on my own, whether that involved seeking other instruction, or spending a lot of time on my own figuring out how to teach myself what I wanted to know. I would put on my "mask," go to school, lessons, or whatever, then retreat as soon as I could to a private time and place where I would figure things out for myself in a way I understood, then practice relentlessly. I came to really enjoy this private time, but always wondered why things had to go so far, and I had to feel so badly about it. In the end I'd make progress, sometimes, a lot of progress, and whoever was teaching (or thought they were) would congratulate themselves on doing a hell of a good job. I'd just smile behind my "mask," and say to myself, "if only you knew." Effective, but not the most healthy process.

My big breakthrough is that I saw this happening with a portion of my martial arts practice, and was able to "read the signs" thins time, and take some proactive steps in a healthier manner, which will help my learning, and keep me from alienating some people around me.

Try as I might, I have had minimal success in improving at Push Hands, our Tai Chi combative form. (Not enough space to explain Push Hands here-suffice it to say, it involves a lot of sensitivity, intuitive thinking and action, and improvisation. All things which I find very difficult to learn). I've felt really lost at this for a long time, and no matter how insightful and helpful the comments my training partners and instructors would offer after a bout, it wasn't enough-I needed to find a way to FEEL all of this.

I came to realize that I really needed to break this down into small chunks to learn it properly. I needed practice in sensing the opponent's energy, getting used to the idea of being pushed so I don't overreact, and learning some basic attacks/counter moves that I don't have to think about. I did some reading and was really interested to learn that there are literally hundreds of Push Hands drills/exercises you can do with a training partner or instructor that develop and hone those very skills. The light went on, and I told myself,"that's what you need to do-that is how you will learn and master this." Focusing on the components of this I think will help me "get" this at a gut level, which is exactly what I need to do. With that base of skills, I can progress into the more intuitive/improvisational aspect of Push Hands, which really interests me.

So, what was different this time? I read and researched, as I typically do, but I have a teacher who will listen to me (very important), and I was able to articulate my needs and my ideas for training more clearly than I had in the past. Feeling like there is someone there who is willing to help you, and not interested in being "right" at all costs makes a difference. I gave my teacher one of the books I'd found, and asked him to work with me on some of the drills and exercises during my lessons. Once I have those down, I can ask other students to train and practice with me. Over the long run I think this will benefit me a lot.
I'm proud of myself for putting this together and taking action before my frustrations either led me to quit or soured my attitude. I love my training too much to have that happen. What's really cool, is two days after I shared this with my instructor, some of my classmates brought up similar ideas in an informal discussion after class. Ms. Cabrera and Mr. Duvall-I really appreciate and agree with your comments and suggestions regarding practicing certain attacks, defenses, etc. in class, then moving to the freestyle play. It's like you read my mind! I'm interested to see what happens next.

Year One - And Beyond

I had every intention of writing a piece to mark my first anniversary at White Dragon last summer (I started in early July). However, the process of learning, growth, and development doesn’t always fall into the time periods framed by the calendar and the clock, and personal milestones don’t always line up with the somewhat arbitrary ones of the outside world…..

During my first year at White Dragon, I was carried along on a wave of enthusiasm. There was the excitement of the school tournament, the Dragon Cup, and other special events at school. It was all new, and everything was especially fun when you tried it for the first time. In recent months, though, things have taken on a more meaningful and interesting tone. I feel like I'm finding my place, with martial arts in general, and in my school. Specifically, a number of things come to mind.

First, I am finding it easier now to learn specific forms or portions of a form. Typically, anything physical takes me a long time to learn, and I need a ton of reps to really get things down. I feel better and more confident now that I have learned and memorized more of the 24 Step form. I still have more to learn, but now I find I’m able to move more quickly into what I call the “refinement” phase of learning the forms. My process (which quite honestly has been heavily influenced by my instructor, Mr. Roper), is to learn a sequence of movements first, then go back through the sequence of steps/forms and work on the finer details, such as timing, hand position, etc. This has built a lot of confidence, and made me more motivated to practice, which in turn has made my practice more productive and enjoyable.

Sometimes I've felt like I don’t “know anything yet” because I haven’t learned the complete 24 Step form, but that really isn’t true. I now know 90% of that form, plus most of a weapon form (5 Elements Flute). In addition, I know some basic Qi Gong exercises, and about 50% of a rather complex Qi Gong form, along with some basic Choy Li Fut stances, kicks, and strikes. I’ve felt all along that I’ve been gradually learning and improving, but looking at it from a broader perspective shows me that I’m developing a varied repertoire of kung fu skills and techniques-I actually know quite a bit.

In addition to these specific abilities, I feel like I've also developed a greater respect for the art of Tai Chi itself, as well as an appreciation for the opportunity to "cross train" a bit in Choy Li Fut. While I enjoyed all of my classes and lessons, it took time to understand more of the subtleties of what I was learning. I began to understand that Tai Chi was more difficult and challenging than met the eye, and that this was true on multiple levels. As I got more experienced, I did see increases in strength and flexibility, but each new portion of the form was more challenging than the last, becoming more physically demanding. I also began to understand the concept of "gaining strength organically"-building whole groups of muscles, large and small, by performing an activity, as contrasted with working specific muscle groups in the gym. You could think of it as getting in shape to do martial arts by doing martial arts. (I’m reminded of something Brian Enos says in his book, “Practical Shooting: Beyond Fundamentals”-at some level, shooting is shooting, regardless of what you’re specifically doing/practicing. In the same way, you could say, “it’s all kung fu”)

The mental side has really started to come together, too, especially in martial applications. In Choy Li Fut, you may learn specific types of strikes and kicks, directed to certain parts of the attacker's body. You will also learn specific types of blocking techniques. In its martial applications, Tai Chi might best be described as more "conceptual," where one movement, such as Brush Knee or Fan Through Back, can be used to parry/redirect an attack, then transition into a strike or even a joint lock. This takes a long time to learn, and I definitely have a long way to go, but I've gotten much more comfortable with it over the last few months.

I’ve started thinking of it somewhat like improvising on a musical instrument, as I did when I played bass guitar in my high school jazz ensemble. You start to see the connection between the scales and basic patterns that you play when practicing, and the walking bass line or melodic/rhythmic bass line you play in a song, and you apply the basics to the song without thinking about it. A Tai Chi analogy might be a classic form like Brush Knee, which you perform in a very specific way as part of the 24 Step form, compared to flowing into and out of Brush Knee in a martial application-going from a parrying move, to a push or palm strike, or stepping into another stance to deliver a kick. Each time you experience this flow of movement, even for a brief moment, it builds confidence and, for me at least, brings other ideas/applications to mind.

I've come to realize that this martial art is easy and incredibly difficult at the same time. I've developed a greater appreciation and respect for what I'm doing and learning. My limited "cross training" in Choy Li Fut has helped, too, by gaining strength and coordination, and just getting a little insight into the difference between the styles. I appreciate the opportunity to experience this. I’ve also been able to apply my capabilities as an independent learner to my training more effectively as things have come together for me. I’m getting better at structuring my solo practice to build on and refine what I learn in group classes and my lessons.

At the same time, I'm really feeling like I have really "found my place" at my school.* Sometimes (for me, at least) when you get into a new group of people with a shared interest, it’s natural that you can be swept up by enthusiasm and a desire to bond. So, as your classmates share ideas, training techniques, and even just opinions and beliefs about martial arts and related subjects, you can tend to take these things strictly at face value, or reflexively emulate them. I think this is especially true if there are people in the group whom you particularly admire and respect for their skill, work ethic, etc. I think of it as a "positive peer pressure" environment-what strength coach Mark Rippetoe refers to as “the reinforcement of behavior through group participation and group approval.”

Still, you ultimately need to evaluate all of this information and decide what really works for you as an individual, working through the process of examining and evaluating all of the ideas, interests, and theories for yourself. I find that if I ignore this evaluation process, eventually I begin to feel uneasy or irritated, like something isn’t “right.” This has been my experience over the last few months-watching, learning, thinking, and evaluating.

I remember an art instructor I had in college who would present a concept or technique, then ask the class, “how are you going to make this your own?” For me, "making it my own" has been part of the process in my martial arts training over the last few months-both the specific techniques and concepts I’ve learned in class, and some of what I’ve seen, heard, and discussed in and around school. I’ve considered and evaluated much of this, and have begun to decide what really works for me. I’ve also re-learned that even if it’s not something I want to do, or something I feel is a good fit for me, I can still learn from it. (Funny how those little life lessons keep coming back when you need them; you just need to pay attention :-)) For example, I’m not interested in an ultra-strict diet or running a marathon, but there is something I can learn from the people who are doing those things, which can benefit my own dietary habits and physical training.

Ultimately I hope that my classmates might discover there is something they can learn from me, as well. I know I’m not the most “social” individual at school, but I am approachable, and if there is something I can share which helps someone, I want to contribute and be part of the school community.

Finally, I’ve been able to branch out a little through the tournaments and seminars, where I met some people from our other White Dragon schools. These experiences reminded me that I am part of a larger martial arts community, beyond even my martial arts family at White Dragon of East County. I’ve kept in contact with some of the people I met at these events, and have come to think of them as my “kung fu cousins.” Meeting students outside my school and feeling accepted by them as a fellow martial artist has increased my confidence in my skills, and my enjoyment of the overall training experience.

So, while my “anniversary” at school, and the experiences and knowledge gained during my first year there don’t comprise a neatly wrapped package which fits perfectly in a calendar time frame, my first year of martial arts was significant to me (and always will be). But perhaps the biggest lesson here is that the learning is like the strength I’m gaining through my practice-organic, developing at its own pace, sometimes with surprising results, and it won’t stop unless you do.

*I'm not saying that I ever felt "lost" at the school, it's more that I've come to feel comfortable there on a deeper level over the last few months.

Plum Blossom Time



Last month, I went on a little martial arts adventure to the Plum Blossom Championship tournament in San Francisco. I saw an announcement for it at school, and found out that anyone who is a student at a Plum Blossom Federation school is eligible to participate. I was excited about the possibility of going to this event, but honestly didn’t feel that I was ready to compete in it, so I discussed it with my instructor.  We both felt it would be a great learning experience for me to attend and watch, so I decided to go. I’m glad I did, because it was one of the best experiences thus far in my brief martial arts career.

I left San Diego on  Friday; unfortunately, my planned “free time” in the City By The Bay was eaten up by flight delays, so I arrived much later in the day than I had planned. However, I did arrive in time to relax and unwind on Friday evening, so the day wasn’t all frustration and waiting around. Saturday morning I headed out for the tournament, with my camera charged up and ready to go. After the traditional Lion Dance to start things off, the tournament got underway. I was lucky enough to find a great seat right in front of the two rings where all of the Tai Chi events were held, and settled in for a full day of competition.

Like the Dragon Cup, this tournament has a wide range of competitors, both in age and rank. But competing against other schools in the Federation, as well as performing in front of Grandmaster Doc-Fai Wong seemed to motivate everyone to a higher level of performance.

With Tai Chi competition in the two rings directly in front of me, plus all of the Choy Li Fut events, there was so much to watch it was almost overwhelming at times. Mainly, I stayed focused on the Tai Chi events, but many of the Choy Li Fut performances were very impressive and grabbed my attention as well, particularly the weapon forms. In addition to hand forms, I saw weapon forms in both disciplines that I’d never seen before. The tournament also featured a lot of Choy Li Fut two person sets, which I had really enjoyed seeing at the Dragon Cup in May. The two-person sets using various combinations of weapons were particularly impressive.

There were a lot of little things to see in the performances. Some were subtleties reflecting the skill and experience of a particular martial artist, some were a result of the way a competitor had been taught, and some were simply personal style. All of this made the individual competitors interesting and enjoyable to watch (and kept me busy taking photos). I did pick up some little things which I can incorporate into my own practice, but more than that I was inspired by the skill of so many different people of all ages, sizes/shapes, and levels of ability.

Looking back on the day, here are some of my specific impressions and memories of the tournament:

•  Not everyone is as fortunate as the White Dragon schools when it comes to a venue for their tournament. The Plum Blossom Championship is held at the Kezar Pavilion in Golden Gate Park.* This facility was built in the 1920’s, and is very small (4,000 seats) compared to our tournament site. Inside, there is very little floor space other than the basketball court itself, so there is almost no open area to stretch, warm up, or just have some quiet time before going into the ring.  While the amenities may not be the best, everything seemed to run smoothly-the tournament staff seemed to keep things moving without a lot of high tech aids, and the overall atmosphere of the event was very congenial. Also, while the seating may not be that comfortable, spectators are closer to the action than they would be in a newer venue. Since I was there to observe and learn as much as I could, I appreciated the smaller scale of the Pavilion.

•  It is truly a special opportunity to see the instructors compete. There were impressive performances by students in every category, but the instructors were on a level of their own. Their years of work and dedication were very evident in everything they did in the ring. We students know our instructors are highly trained and very skilled, but sometimes I’m not sure we fully realize how much professional pride they have in their abilities and training. This was clearly evident in the quality and intensity of the performances when these ladies and gentlemen took the floor. Another special aspect of seeing your instructors perform is the opportunity to show your appreciation for them in a very public manner. When an instructor takes the floor or receives a medal, and his or her entire school is on their feet applauding in front of everyone else, that is a memorable moment.

•  Push Hands in the 4-5 year age group is about the cutest thing you will see at a tournament like this. The little ones tend to do their circling with their upper body and arms only, sort of a “1-2-3 Go!” action, but most of them did really well with the Push Hands concept of redirecting their opponent, and not getting into a force-on-force shoving match. They were also the only division of competitors to conclude their medal ceremony with a group hug.

•  I appreciate the hospitality of our White Dragon “extended family”**. A group from our Mira Mesa school noticed my White Dragon shirt, and invited me to sit with them.  I really enjoyed and appreciated this friendly reception from some of my “kung fu cousins.” Since I was at the tournament on my own, it was very nice to have some other White Dragon students and instructors to watch the competition, eat lunch with, and just enjoy the day.  One of the Mira Mesa students was kind enough to drive me back to my hotel at the end of the day, saving me the cab fare (and giving me some more time to enjoy talking kung fu with a fellow student instead of sitting in a cab).

Overall, it was a great experience-everything I was expecting, and more. I learned a lot from observing so many skilled and talented people, and was inspired by what I saw to work even harder in my own practice. I definitely want to go back to this tournament as a competitor, and hope that a lot of my “kung fu brothers and sisters” from White Dragon East County can join me and experience this great martial arts event.

*This little arena has a rather colorful history. When I mentioned it to the front desk clerk at the hotel, he told me that for many years the Kezar Pavilion was home to the SF Bay Bombers Roller Derby team, and various wrestling events. Apparently this building has seen plenty of punching and grappling over the years, even before the Plum Blossom Federation held its first championship there.

**This made the day all the more enjoyable. Although I tend to keep mostly to myself at events like this (not being anti-social, just fully involved in observing what’s going on, taking photos, etc.), I  appreciated this group reaching out to me and including me. We have a GREAT community atmosphere at our school, but we are also part of a larger clan, so to speak, and events like this provide an opportunity to connect with and learn from our extended family of fellow martial artists. I hope to see some of these people again at future White Dragon events.

June 20, 2013

Last one of my migrated FB posts...

Great night at Kung fu; much better than Monday (still pondering the lessons of Monday night-will probably write more on that later). In Tai Chi we worked on practical applications of the Single Whip. Applications practice can get confusing at times because you're not executing the form exactly like you do in form practice. It can be quite a mental challenge visualizing what an opponent might do and how you can counter it-more free form and improvisational than you might see in other Kung fu forms. I need to keep thinking of it that way, and draw on some of the mindset from my days in the jazz ensemble at school. Made lots of noise and got some aggression out in CLF kicking class-I drove Mr. Roper into the front row with one of my snap kicks. (Bad Kung fu joke alert =:-0)- You might say I "unhorsed" him . :-)

Dragon Cup

I brought this over from my FB page; my thoughts/impressions of our tournament in May.

May 6, 2013

Some impressions/moments/random thoughts from Saturday's Dragon Cup tournament-

I think the tournament experience taught me more about my practice and preparation than about what to do at the actual event. I can definitely make some changes in my solo practice that will help improve future performances.

Watching a lot of others perform reinforced my belief that it's more important to me to really master something than it is to advance quickly through the ranks. It's not so much about the next stripe or sash, even though they represent significant milestones.

It was hot in there! Will definitely wait longer next time to get into that 80 % polyester shirt.

Will definitely bring all my own food next year.

I enjoyed being there all day and taking in the whole experience, but will probably come a bit later next year and seek out a bit more quiet time before going onto the floor.

I'm happy for all of my classmates who won medals, but especially for my classmates Ms. Cabrera and Mr. Truong - I know those two worked especially hard. And we can't forget Miss Truong (aka "Little T") who was just as excited about her brother's medal as her own.

As usual I was impressed by Ms. Cabrera's display of what Sir John Keegan called "The Will To Combat" - she battled through a lot of pain and effort and prevailed.

Next year-Push Hands! And one of these days a weapon form too.

April 27, 2013

Some pre-tournament thoughts (originally posted on my FB page)-

Another great Saturday at kung fu-our tournament is next weekend, so we won't be back to the normal Saturday routine for 2 weeks. Used my lesson today with Mr. Roper to look beyond the tournament, and continue learning more of the 24 Step form; still have 2 more stripes to go. Afterward, I went out back and practiced more tournament form-feeling pretty good about it, although there are always thin...gs to work on and improve. Took shelter from the sun for a little while, then went inside for Qi Gong. I appreciated the opportunity to relax-we had a little emergency at home yesterday, so I was a little wound up over that. Nice to just breathe deeply and relax with some slow movement.

Just a few more days to practice for the Dragon Cup. One of the last things I have to master is lacing up my kung fu style shirt to wear with my uniform on tournament day. I have a feeling that I'll need to practice this in front of a mirror for a while, sort of like tying a necktie. On tournament day, I may need an instructor or one of the senior students to inspect me before I go into the ring....

Steps

I'm really pleased about the improvements I've noticed in my strength, balance, and movements over the last couple of weeks in class. In addition to my regular Tai Chi practice, I've been going to a lot of the Choy Li Fut basic classes for exercise and conditioning, and we're currently learning a form in our Qi Gong class which involves a lot of (slow motion) pivots and kicks. We've really been drilling on this a lot over the last few weeks, so I've had a lot of practice. I  notice that my balance is better, and I am able to extend and hold the kick without as much trouble as I had before.

I still have a lot to learn and work on, but, I'm pleased and excited to actually see some results. Sometimes it can be very frustrating and you feel like you aren't progressing or learning anything, but if you really pay attention to the little things, you'll see that you've actually come a long way-the progress is just in very small increments sometimes.

Several years ago, I met and chatted with a master gunsmith from Texas named Alex Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton was talking about the nature of his work in general, and mentioned an assignment he'd had in gunsmithing school. The story seems an appropriate analogy for my recent progress:

As an exercise and practice in cutting and shaping metal through using various types of files, each student was given a two-inch square block of solid steel. The assignment was to reshape this cube into a perfect smooth sphere by removing metal with an assortment of coarse and fine metal files-all hand work, no machining.

When I look at myself and perform my forms and exercises now, I can see the cumulative results of a lot of small changes. The sharp corners have been knocked off, and something (and someone) different is beginning to take shape.

Is "Practical Pistol" Shooting A Martial Art?

I’ve been studying martial arts (Tai Chi) since last June, and one thing I’ve noticed is there are a lot of similarities between traditional martial arts practice and my 25 or so years’ experience in the practical shooting sports. The Tai Chi forms are a world unto themselves, but conceptually I noticed similarities between what I’ve done on the range over the years, and what I’m now doing at the martial arts school-focus, concentration and awareness, balance, weight transfer, and so on. Sometimes when I was struggling to “get” something, I’d relate it to a skill I used in shooting (“this stance is like what I do when I’m shooting around a barricade”), and that would help cement the idea in my mind. It seemed natural to relate this to what I was learning in my classes.

As time went on, I began to wonder if in some way, I’d really been a martial arts practitioner and student for a long time, just in a different way. I began to wonder-is practical shooting (defined as competitions sanctioned by the United States Practical Shooting Association (USPSA) and International Defensive Pistol Association (IDPA) ) evolving into a martial art in its own right?

The more I considered it, I noticed a number of key areas common to both practical shooting and traditional martial arts, and specific similarities and differences. The main things that come to mind are lineage/ past masters, formalized competition and ranking vs. applications, conditioning, and traditions and etiquette.

Lineage and Past Masters: Traditional martial arts knowledge was typically passed directly from master to student through face to face teaching-in some cases, the student would actually live with the teacher during their studies. As interest in martial arts grew outside of Asia, larger and more formal schools were formed, which still trace their lineage back through a line of past masters. In a similar fashion, practical shooting has a lineage of past masters-Ed McGivern, Rex Applegate, Jeff Cooper, Ray Chapman, John Farnham, Chuck Taylor, Massad Ayoob, and Clint Smith are some who come to mind. Cooper has probably had the greatest influence, due to his scholarly approach, his establishment of practical competitions, and through his school at Gunsite. Most of the people I’ve listed were influenced one way or another by Jeff Cooper and the “Modern Technique”, as he called it.

Since practical shooting as we know it developed during the 20th century, the one on one student-master relationship wasn’t necessary to the knowledge transfer(although it is still the best). Many of the pioneers of practical shooting wrote books and articles in firearms magazines, describing their methods, techniques, and equipment. Some opened shooting schools to share their methods and knowledge with students. As video and online technology developed, these media opened other paths for the practical shooting masters to disseminate their knowledge and share their experiences.

Competition/Ranking vs. Applications: Practical shooting competition was developed as a testing ground for shooting techniques and equipment. Jeff Cooper felt that a competitive atmosphere was the best environment for discovering what worked and what didn’t, for shooters and equipment both. Is point shooting faster than aimed fire? What type of holster is truly practical for both all-day wear and speedy presentation?

In the early years, the focus was entirely on what was “practical” – what would work best in a gunfight, giving you the best odds of survival? A lot of thought, analysis, and experimentation went into all the aspects of the game, from guns, ammo, holsters, shooting techniques, to specific modifications to the pistol itself.

Human nature being what it is, the shooters who thrived most on the pure competitive aspect of practical shooting soon began developing gun modifications like compensators, weighted grips, and other changes to the handgun to control recoil and allow faster “splits”, or time intervals between shots. In a sport where accuracy, speed, and power are equally weighted, these modifications offered an advantage and soon became common, leading to the “race guns” seen in the hands of elite shooters today.

As competition and participation increased, it became necessary to develop a classification system, ranking shooters by ability, as determined by their scores on standardized “classifier” events. Just as one would test for a black belt in karate, or the next sash level in the Chinese martial arts, shooters fired a required number of classifiers for the record, and then were ranked by ability, from D class to Grand Master (IDPA uses the traditional military style designations of Marksman, Sharpshooter, Expert, etc.).

As competition intensified and the sport grew, more debate occurred over whether the sport was still “practical”, and true to its real world roots. It became commonplace to hear conversations along the lines of, “you’d never leave cover without reloading in a real gunfight, etc.” This debate still goes on, but much less intensely. IDPA caters to the more “practical” contingent (who at one time were referred to as “Martial Artists” in a less than respectful tone). USPSA has diversified by creating divisions (Limited, Single Stack, Production), which required use of more basic, less heavily modified handguns.

The line between competition and applications is much less clear in practical shooting than in traditional martial arts. If you study a martial art like Choy Li Fut, it’s apparent from the beginning that you are learning/practicing blocking, punching and kicking for the purpose of striking someone (or avoiding being punched or kicked). You can spar with a live opponent. Obviously, this is impossible in practical shooting, but there are applications which transfer directly from the monthly club match to the street or your home:

• Foremost is handling your firearm under stress. Everything is on the clock in practical shooting, and it’s important to your score to shoot an event in the least time possible. This imposes a stress on the shooter that you wouldn’t get in casual target practice, or the traditional military style “bullseye” shooting game. Also, some courses of fire include moving targets, which increase the stress and challenge.
• Shooting multiple targets, and firing from unusual positions also test the shooter’s skill and ability to adapt and still make an accurate shot. These skills could transfer directly to a tactical situation. In my practical shooting career, I have shot events in a blacked out room with a hand held flashlight for illumination, fired through windows, doorways, and tunnels, and from behind walls. I’ve also fired guns from in and around cars and trucks, from a boat suspended on springs to simulate floating, and from a parachute harness suspended 8 feet above the ground. (OK, that part is not too practical, but it was fun)

So, while practical shooting competition is not tactical training (there are legal and political reasons you wouldn’t want it to be), there are skills learned and developed in its practice which would help you in a real-life self defense scenario. The late Jim Cirillo, who spent much of his police career on the NYPD involved in high-risk operations with the department’s Stakeout Squad credited his competition experience with helping him to survive numerous gunfights.

It’s also worth noting that a number of shooting techniques and equipment developed in practical shooting competition are now taught to and utilized by the military and law enforcement. .The Aimpoint optical sight you see on a soldier or Marine’s rifle today was the “next big thing” on the competition circuit about 1990.

Conditioning: Practical shooting does not require a lot of physical strength or ability, although it does help. Many of the top competitors are devotees of CrossFit, weight training, and running, as well as traditional martial arts. In contrast, the traditional martial arts student develops strength as part of their lessons and practice. The conditioning is integral to the study and practice-Tai Chi stance training, punching a bag, and slow motion snap kicks all serve to develop the martial artist’s fighting skill as well as condition their body.

Traditions and Etiquette: Traditional martial arts have a long tradition, and much more specific etiquette than practical shooting. There is an etiquette to conducting oneself on a shooting range, but it is largely devoted to safety, which of course is paramount. The Kung Fu studio or the dojo have specific rules and etiquette that students, instructors, and sometimes even visitors are expected to follow. One big difference between shooting and traditional martial arts relates to the martial arts tradition of showing respect to practitioners of different styles. Practical shooting, and the shooting sports in general, fall far short in this regard. Devotees of a certain grip, stance, or other technique will “preach” passionately about their shooting “doctrines”, ignoring the fact that their method may not be suitable for everyone, or that the shooter they are lecturing may be much more skilled and accomplished, despite using technique they consider outmoded or not sufficiently “tactical”.

So, the question remains-are these shooting games legitimate martial arts? I can only offer my opinion, and that is, in their own way, they are. As police officer, firearms instructor and author Massad Ayoob puts it, “We all agree that a shooting match is not a gunfight – but we all have to remember that a gunfight is a shooting match.”. Regular practice of these sports is a valid way of developing and maintaining some of the skill needed for this most serious of endeavors.

A big "Thank You" to my shooting buddy Esther Tsai for reviewing this piece and providing editing comments.

A Letter Home - 09/11/01

Shortly after September 11, 2001, I came across the piece below on a blog called Right Thinking Girl. I've kept it all these years because to me, it was very powerful and touching. It's an imaginary letter written by a woman who died when the towers fell, telling her husband about her last moments and saying goodbye.

I thought it deserved to see the light of day again. In tribute to the writer (who I am unable to locate), in memory of the innocent people who died that day, and all of those who gave their lives trying to save them, here it is. It's called A Letter Home.

Dear S,

I know you wake up in the morning wondering if it was real or if it was all a bad dream. I know that the bed seems so empty, even when you're lying there, because you don't believe in the anything anymore, not even the physical realities of the world. You fail to see how you can be there, alive, when I am not, as if the notion of one of us existing without the other is incomprehensible. Those moments of confusion, when you think maybe you're the one who is dead because the pain is so immense that you simply cannot be alive and experiencing such depths of agony, well I know about those too.

I know you are wondering why you had to be on the ground that day, and why I had to be what seemed like a hundred miles up, in that tall silver building that seemed every day until that day to be indestructible. I know those dark and sour thoughts have worn neural grooves in your brain, and you go over them like worry beads, trying to find a way inside, a way to go back in time and stop it all from happening.

If only you'd done this, or that, or the other thing.

You couldn't have stopped it, baby. The origins of that morning were in place long before we got to the office that morning, long before we knew each other, long before we were even born. The more you chase the contrails of that event, the father you get away from me, because I'm still here, still right beside you, still loving you.

I know you cry yourself to sleep sometimes wondering if I was scared and if I was alone and what my last thoughts were. I was scared, but I wasn't alone. I was with Joanna, the same Joanna who was with me on the day I found out I was pregnant. The same Joanna who had eaten dinner at our table more times than I could count. The same Joanna you banished to the balcony so she could smoke her cigarettes. When we realized that things were bad, we huddled together, whispering our prayers. At some point it became clear that we had to do something. The fire was so bad by then. The smoke was too much. The flames were more intense than anything I had ever felt, it was as if they were electrified, just going everywhere and so violent. Together we stood on the glass of broken windows, smelling the big, fresh, blue air. We looked down, way down to the ground where the people were. So many people had already died. My boss. Jacie, one of my bridesmaids. Countless others. I was lucky, is what I am trying to tell you. I had time to call you. I had a moment where I could begin to understand, at least, the situation that had befallen me, though the thoughts were as empty as a canyon.

We stood on the ledge, and I couldn't do it. I am an optimist: I still believed that there was hope. Joanna was crying. A man I knew from down the hall came staggering up, and he choked, "I'll go with you."

He was burned. His clothes were smoking. And Joanna held his hand, and she hugged him. They stood on the ledge and I said, "I love you," to them both.

I don't know if they heard me over the roaring fire, the wind, their own thoughts streaming through their chaotic brains at that instant. Joanna didn't turn around to say goodbye. She and the analyst from down the hall held on tight to each other. The walls were closed in with fire, and my throat was choking on the smoke. Joanna tugged his wrist, just a little, and they vaulted from the small window, past the sky, past the idea of sky, to the snapshot blue, and the sea blue by association.

They fell from the sky as saints.

I was thinking about that time you took me to Coney Island and you made me go on the roller coaster, even though I didn't want to, and how I screamed and screamed and screamed as the coaster came screaming down the track, so fast that I barely had time to comprehend it. Our bodies: we believe in them the way we believe in our selves. It scares humans, I think, to get close to that interior edge where the two blur.

I turned from the gaping window. Things were so crazy, baby, you have to understand that at the time, the world had ceased to make sense. So far out there on the margins of existence, it is quiet as a Siberian forest. Time warps and slows down, and there is room to hear your own thoughts, the backlog of thoughts that have simmered under your consciousness for years. The flickers of impressions that glint in your daily life, emerge shyly in your dreams, trickle into the periphery of your conversations, it's all right there. As the flames licked ever closer, I was thinking not of death, not of pain, not of the heat or the roar of flames. I did not ask why? or what's happened?. I did not pray or ask God's forgiveness. No, none of that was very important at the moment. What I was thinking about was you. I have slept with you in that bed that now seems so empty and lonely for over ten years, and at those last few moments I was thinking of the nights when I would wake up for some reason and look at your face. You looked somehow smart even in sleep. Those moments were the most intimate, I think, because nobody else ever knew you like that. It was just for me. In those moments you were not distracted with the baby or work. You were simply my husband, in bed with me. So while I was in that office as the fire swarmed around me, I was thinking about you sleeping, your beautiful, sweet face in perfect repose. That was the last full impression to transverse my brain: the image of my husband sleeping beside me.

When it finally happened for me, I was suddenly jerked downward. There was a rain of fire and sheetrock, and it was over with just that simply. I didn't suffer, certainly no worse than some of the others did. I held the image of you as long as I could.

I am comforted now somewhat by the knowledge that you’ll find another woman who will make you happy. You will emerge from the office one day in early spring and you will discover yourself staring just an extra moment at a young brunette as she slips into a taxi. Or at the club you'll see an ethereal blond who reminds you of someone, and you'll talk to her, and for a few moments you'll remember what it's like to love, and to flirt, and to be welcomed into someone else's day. You will go on. You are strong and you are brave.

I am telling you this because I think the questions about my death are keeping you from seeing the world around you. You are getting all tangled up in the details of that day. My love, my love, remember my ravenous kisses, but escape them. You have the soft air and the sunlight among leaves and the cry of our baby to look forward to. Do not let me steal your universe the way they stole mine.

I wish you a long and happy life.
With love,

Your wife

I'm Just Sayin'

Saturday I had a great walk along the river front, and made one circuit around Mast Park. One of the people running in the park was a young lady of around 30-35. She had the slim build of an avid runner. I noticed that she was wearing a brace on both knees. That got me thinking-if you need a brace on both knees, could that be your body telling you that maybe it's time to take up another activity besides running (on a concrete sidewalk no less)?

Grace

Naturally my wife was curious about what I was doing in class, so one night when I came home she asked me to show her some of what we did. We'd worked on a form called Parting the Wild Horse's Mane (everything in Tai Chi has a name), so I showed her a little of what we'd done. Her first comment was, "you're so graceful."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. NO ONE has EVER said that to me in my entire life, with regard to any kind of movement or physical activity. It's just not part of my reality or how I see myself.

Part of this perception comes from being clumsy and awkward at sports and such when I was a child, and part of it comes from my feelings about my size (this is my size, not my weight; important distinction, as we'll see in a moment).

Growing up, my size was always associated with clumsiness and awkwardness-grace never entered into the picture. Indeed, I was the antithesis of grace in some people's eyes. Although never overweight as a child, I rarely got much positive feedback on my height, my reach, or the size of my hands and feet. Big definitely didn't mean graceful, and as a boy it didn't mean masculine, imposing, or powerful.

Big meant clumsy.
Big meant try not to break anything.
Big meant get your big feet out of the way, or don't take so many potato chips in your big mitts.

So, hearing my wife describe me as "graceful" released a lot of that, and opened up some new avenues of thought. If I can be graceful, I need not fear being powerful, strong, or imposing, because I really can control all of that. I will not break anything, or hurt anyone (unless I need to).

Wow, that made me feel good. Makes me want to practice every day.