Focus (Quote)

Even though I am no longer taking classes in or practicing Liuhebafa—an internal martial art— I am still finding inspiration in reading Liuhebafa Five Character Secrets by Paul Dillon. Here is a wonderful quote on focus. I especially like the imagery: feeling unfocused, imagine a tiger.

Creative Imagination (Intent) moves like a fearsome tiger.

A tiger on a hunt is single pointed, totally focused on its prey. When it moves it is awesome in its ferocity and power often bringing down animals that are larger and more powerful like a water buffalo or an elephant.

Just so, you must use this example of focused intensity when you are establishing your intention or goal. You must have the strength of purpose to stick to achieve this goal. Do not think that something is too big or too difficult to accomplish. Through experience you will see how holding onto your dream and steadily working at it can bring the most fantastic results.

Techno Sensei

Ron recorded Bob doing the first third of the Liuhebafa form and gave each of us in the class DVD copies. The form is complex, and I appreciate the ability to look at it at home. One couple loaded the video onto their I Pod. I loaded it onto my computer because I don’t own a DVD player. This weekend Ron told me that I can actually slow the video down. So, now some of us have “Little Bob.” I now am enjoying “Slow Bob.” What fascinates me is that we are using current technology to master an ancient martial art. We are also naturally being proactive in our learning. I think most of us have a high degree of motivation to learn the form.

What Is Dancing?

On Sunday, NBC premiered Superstars of Dance, a program with dance routines from around the world. Some were what people traditionally think of as dance, but some pushed the definition. A number were martial arts routines. The judges didn’t know how to score them. Yes, it was an incredible routine, but was it dancing?

I have fond childhood memories of dancing in the living room of my parents’ home. At night I would use the picture window as a mirror, not so different from my ballet class. I was an adult before I ever found out that some of the neighbors used to watch me. I would have been horribly embarrassed. Instead I just remember the joy of moving to the music.

After much internal debate, I registered for the second semester of Liuhebafa, an internal martial art. Yes, I am uncoordinated and the slowest one in the class. Yes, a number of times in the first semester I wanted to sit down on the floor in tears because I was trying to figure out which hand was my right and which was my left when everyone else was asking detailed questions about movements. Yes, I have just a fraction of the martial arts experience of the other students in the class. But, when I go home and practice what little of the form I can remember, I feel like I am dancing, just like I did when I was a little girl. While I get a great deal of satisfaction practicing Tai Chi, the flowing movements of Liuhebafa often make me feel joyful. Right now that feeling is worth the struggle.

More Snow I

For the last two months I have been reading Liuhebafa Five Character Secrets. Li Dongfeng, some time during the Yuan Dynasty, managed to write 134 wise phrases about Liuhebafa, an internal martial art, using only five Chinese characters for each, like the martial arts meet haiku.

I was thinking about that today when I was moaning about our weather forecast. Snow, snow and yet more snow: sore back; chapped face, hands, and feet; all over tired. I’m sure the martial arts masters would not have tolerated my whining. If I considered myself a martial artist, I would probably consider doing some training exercises using the snow, as if daily shoveling weren’t enough. Instead I thought about the magic of those five Chinese characters. They reminded me of acronyms.

Snow – Sometimes Need Observable Whimsy

I think Li Dongfeng would have liked that. I could imagine a Taoist monk catching snow flakes on his tongue as he shoveled snow.

Knowing What I Don't Know

One of my favorite experiences is the feeling of knowing what I don’t know. I can almost see and feel a space opening up in what formerly felt like pure chaos. A question or an intention appears. In Liuhebafa, I don’t know the transition between “the crouching tiger listens to the wind” and “feint to the east but attack to the west.” I am unsure about the weight changes in “rein in the horse.”

A lot of learning needs to take place before I can begin to know what I don’t know. In the beginning, the form is just a roiling blur, just so much chaos. When I am practicing at home, I begin to be able to put together a few movements, many of which are wrong. I still am not sure where to focus my attention when I get back to class on Saturday. But finally in the beginning movements of the form, I am able to know where to focus my attention. I am able to fill in the gaps of my ignorance.

In Tai Chi, I am also struggling to identify what I don’t know. Here, I am primarily my own teacher since I am not officially taking a class this fall. I find myself sleepwalking through the form when I practice at home. I know that I need to focus on sinking my weight, but haven’t I been telling myself this for a long time? But then there is that delicious moment when I again know what I don’t know. I don’t know what it feels like in my upper legs when I sink my weight when I do “cloud hands.” Now, I can begin to experiment with that.

This feeling of knowing what I don't know goes beyond Tai Chi and Liuhebafa. Usually, whenever I learn anything new, I begin with reading everything I can get my hands on. I plunge into the murky lake of ideas. Usually I find this great fun. Once in awhile this stage lasts too long. I also like the feeling of having a direction or three or a whole spider web of directions. I like a rhythm between chaos and direction.

I like people who know what they don’t know. I feel more confident in their abilities when I know they are searching in a particular direction. I like to know that they are asking for advice or seeking out information. I mistrust people who think they themselves have all the answers.

Our First Class of Liuhebafa Quan

Saturday was our first class of Liuhebafa Quan, an internal martial arts system in the same broad category as Tai Chi and Baqua. I was more than a bit intimidated. All of the other students have been taking classes—besides Tai Chi—from Bob on a regular basis for a long, long time. On top of it, all of my life I have had dyspraxia or a similar learning disability, which has always made coordination somewhat challenging. I felt like a fifth grader working out with a bunch of college athletes. Bob was going at a pace several times faster than he normally takes an introductory Tai Chi class. “God’s littlest angel*” I sometimes refer to myself during moments like this. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Everyone one else was wondering about the difference between a 70/30 versus a 60/40 stance as we did a particular movement; I was just trying to figure out where the heck all my body parts were supposed to be, like which leg was supposed to be forward.

Yet part of me loves experiences like Saturday morning. I had to throw out all of my expectations. I had to ignore as much internal chatter as possible. I had to focus totally on the moment. Yeah, maybe I was “God’s littlest angel” but at that moment my right hand was swinging back and I had to figure out where my palm was facing.

The next morning, we had minor chaos at the tiny church I attend. The minister was nowhere to be found. The only person who knew what happened to her was ten minutes late for the service. As acting deacon, I tried to shepherd the flock to at least start setting up for service. Once we all knew that the minister was in Emergency, I officially took over the service. I was scheduled to conduct the service the following week, but I hadn’t quite gotten everything together. I declared that this was a “Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough” service. It wasn’t quite baked, but it could still be good. I managed to remember the major points of some readings I had planned and improvise in other ways. I “rolled with the punches,” as the cliché goes, when some unexpected things happened during the service. I did not deliver the church service that people had expected when they drove to church in the morning, but I think most of us felt that we received what we had needed given the circumstances.

I am not sure that my teacher Bob and my fellow students would understand that in my mind there was a direct correlation between the Liuhebafa Quan class Saturday morning and the church service on Sunday morning. Both required surrendering to the moment and intense focus. I had already practiced those things on Saturday. Sunday my brain was already primed.

I don’t know if I can realistically expect to learn Liuhebafa Quan in the two to three semesters that are currently planned for the course. It took me between two and three years to get the basic movements of Tai Chi down. On one level, I am not sure it matters. I am still learning what I most need to learn.

* For years Hallmark has carried a Christmas card with three little angels on the cover. One of the angels has her halo hanging off to one side on her forehead. This is in contrast to the many other cards picturing the majestic angels of Christmas with their trumpets announcing the birth of Baby Jesus.