Building My Vocabulary

I was having an interesting talk with Sifu R. Langner in class on Friday night this week about the difference in teaching with your words vs. teaching by demonstration. I've always admired the ability of someone that could explain a concept without actually moving. It's almost like poetry to watch someone that has that kind of vocabulary and can explain themselves in that clear and concise of a way. 

I'm generally a kinaesthetic learner. I absorb things much better once I actually do them myself or I can get my hands on them. I can really get the 'feel' of them that way. And as far as Kung fu goes, I'd say the same. I like to watch someone do something, then I like to practice it a dozen or so times myself, before I feel I can be left to my own devices. But to have someone only explain something to me, sometimes can be confusing. Words can be difficult to interpret the meaning of depending on who's delivering them. 

I've never felt as an instructor, confident in my abilities to clearly explain things so that a student wouldn't need to interpret what I was saying. I've realized that this is one of the reasons that developing my vocabulary is so important to my personal growth. I've been thinking a lot lately about the value of journaling my journey. I'm really excited to look back in one year from now to see the progress I've made in this aspect. 

Meditation

Meditation has always been a struggle for me, and I imagine in some ways I will continue to struggle with it. But lately, I've been so lucky to have been having wonderful meditation sessions.

In China, we were never given the option of whether or not we should meditate. It was part of our program, and if you weren't there, it was considered an unexcused absence. We never really worked our way into it, we were just taught how to "sit" told to focus on our breath, and basically were forced to do it for an hour straight off the bat. Which for some was totally fine. Probably exactly what they needed. But I always struggled through it. Even in the end when I was sitting for an hour voluntarily, I was never really getting any pleasure out of it. I did it, because I knew somewhere in my mind it was good for me.

So I've always wondered, how does one become good at meditation? How can you qualify good vs. poor meditation? Should I be focused so much on how long I'm sitting? How can I improve the quality of my meditation minutes?

The funny thing is, I have no answers to these questions I've pondered for so many years. I've painfully sat through countless meditation sessions wondering how my peers were improving so much more than me.

So here's my post GBS breakthrough. My mind is quieter, I worry less. I sit, and I'm less comfortable, but I just don't care. I take pleasure in just sitting quietly and breathing. I don't set a time limit. I do it. And it feels really grounding. It feels good to feel the muscles in my back that are tired and sore. I breathe into them and they relax. And I relax. And I feel like my day was a good one. Even sometimes when it wasn't. It's so much easier to let my mind go and just breathe.

Sheep

We talked at the meeting about reflecting back on the I Ho Chuan year and thinking about all the changes we've made and about the positive effect the I Ho Chuan has had on us. It's hard for me to reflect back on this year without ending up in tears.

I hit this amazing peak. I got my black belt, finally. After all this time. I went to Alabama and I met so many amazing people, and I did so much good work that I truly felt fantastic about. We had the pandamonium- my first - that I had so much fun at. And then pretty shortly after that, I was hospitalized with GBS. There is nothing so vulnerable as being completely paralyzed and being unable to speak.

I cried so many times when people talked about Kung fu and my time in China. So many times I questioned, why did I go through all of that, just so I could end up here? It seems so unfair that after spending 5 years in China, cultivating my health, I should be the one to end up in a hospital bed. Over and over again, my friends and family told me, that I probably would recover really quickly because I was already in such good shape. Or how my training prepared me mentally to handle the pain. Or how maybe my practice helped me to cultivate patience and understanding. 

It's hard to look at positive things that come from this type of experience. It's so difficult not to dwell in the suffering. It's so frustrating to start again with so many things. The hardest thing is being patient with myself. But here I am still at it. And why? Because I've never been satisfied with mediocrity. If there's one thing I've learned from the I Ho Chuan, it's that every day is a new day to strive towards mastery. I really can look at that from a new perspective this year.