Embrace The Moon Taijiquan and Qigong

Memory

Long penetrating staffs of lightening pierced the night sky our last night in Beijing. Their crackling flashes split in spider-like formations, lighting up the already brilliant Wanfujin Street. This famous stretch still has the Foreign Languages Bookstore but each time I’m here it is less what it was and more what it will be. I remember walking down this street twenty-five years ago, before Steve Jobs, before H&M or Forever 21, before the world had given Tesela the technology to invent his car, much less sell it in a showroom along the streets of this world class city. I remember not the paved walkways and high end shops and restaurants but night vendors lined up in ordered chaos, creating maze-like corridors where locals and foreigners alike walked through, on a treasure hunt for the tastiest morsels. I remember their coal smeared faces and crooked toothed offerings, their mischievous faces when we screwed up ours at the insects cooking in oily steaming woks. I remember them playfully shocking us by answering “meow” when we pointed and gestured, “what is that?” We seemed more like visitors then, rather than tourists.

Loud thunder booms bounced off towering, architectural masterpieces and echoed down through narrower corridors of Houtongs. These historical reference points no longer house generations and generations of families but are instead wholly renovated and sit 90% empty because not even the most rich can afford the $7000 sq/meter price tag. Doug, Laura, Mary, Nina and I discussed our options for dinner, repeating ourselves to hear over the thunder claps. We thought about trying to grab one of the taxis splashing along streets, already inches deep in water from the instant and unexpected downpour, but they were already full of soaked tourists making their way back to their five-star hotels. We watched teens in high heels and skimpy summer clothes giggling under doorways, umbrellas popped, texting and posting to WeChat. They stood next to elders and us foreigners and I thought how curious this snapshot into this moment in time is: youth who never knew the Cultural Revolution - I wondered do they take their freedom for granted? Tourists too, shopping and moving along for the next purchase, the next destination - did they see the armed guards along The Worker’s Stadium as I did earlier that day? And these Elders, - do they know they are China’s memory keepers? It will be all paved over soon, the next generation gazing down from the highest floor of an innovative design. I guess remembrance is like that, though, not just for a culture, but for all of us. We think we will retain every moment, every sensation, every recollection but we will not; we will only keep a light flash or an echo of any given moment along our continuum, the rest dissolved and forgotten becoming the foundation for the next transformation.

Our group split and made their own way around Beijing the last 36 hours of our trip. I thought that would be the best option for decompressing and transitioning back home. I’m not a tour leader and had no desire to force consensus either so it worked well for me too. That morning Kathy, Gary, Nina, and Linda and I got up early to practice some Taijiquan in Jingshan Park. What a great park! Everyone moves. A robust man in his 60’s stopped and observed us as we practiced our Laojia. At the end he said, “Nei Gong, Hen Hao!” I took this as a high compliment – our internals were good! I said in my clumsy Chinese, “We have a good teacher.” He knew of the Chen Family, of Chen Xiao Xing, he himself from Zheng Zou. We walked along together and learned he is retired and likely during his medical tenure a rather famous doctor in China. He was in the army and then worked with both locals and foreign diplomats. He’s now a granddad out for a stroll with the other Elders in the Park, “Being in Nature will give you good Qi!” He said, “You will remain strong and not get sick!” He wanted to diagnose us, “for no money” and right there in the park he took our pulses and accurately diagnosed our ailments and then massaged some acupoints. By the time I got back from the restroom he had finished with the others, vanishing as quickly as he appeared.   I love this about China. In an instant you can really connect with someone, magnetized by mutual affinity, and then, like the history of this place, the moment dissolves. Whether forgotten or remembered, whether renovated in a story, or faded into barely an echo, it is forever and inextricably woven into the composition of your being.

I spent the last dinner in China with my close students: Mary, Laura, Nina and Doug. As we stood in a doorway watching the downpour we decided rather than spend our last meal, dry, in the Apple Store mall or trying to get a cab back to the hotel, we would make a run for it in the pouring rain. We ran for a few blocks giggling and squealing and splahing and ended up along a side street that had not seemed to change much from the old Beijing I remember. Doug had run a “Yelp”-like search for highly rated “hole in the wall” restaurants and we ducked in, wet-headed and clingy-clad into one of those small places.  We had a fantastic meal, ordered by pointing and using our server’s phone voice translation app. We were surrounded by just a couple of other tables of locals, who seemed unphased by us, and I thought we could be anywhere in Seattle right now, friends having dinner together, with the rain falling down outside.

By the time we left the downpour had subsided. The rain, like this entire experience came and went so quickly. Not long before, we were finishing our last class in Chenjiagou. Our once unrelated group having now shared 50 hours of training, shedding sweat, expectation and individuality, were solely and completely unified in a powerful thunderous stomp of our form's final movement: Buddha’s Attendant Pounds the Mortar.  Not long before the night sky saw us rolling our suitcases along the streets of Chenjiagou to catch the early morning bus out of this treasured place. As we strode along past the shops and landmarks of mutual witness over these past 10 days I was aware that we foreigners ironically, were now charged with being the memory keepers not just of Taijiquan but also of this place, in its earlier days. Not long before this last dinner we were driving along the highway past the caves, past the Ying Yang fence along the Yellow River, past the Billboards advertising a better life, Chenjiagou and our time there, receding in the distance. Soon after this dinner the plane will be taxiing down the tarmac and I will be thinking about all the landscapes I have seen in my life, those personal ones deep inside me and the ones on the outside that I share with others. When the wheels of Delta Flight 128 lift off, and I leave China once again, I will be thinking about those I know and those I met. I will be reflecting on how people and landscapes come together for just a moment really, how we get to share our lives and have amazing experiences, before it all passes by, dissolving again into memory, into the unformed possibilities.

Beginner's Heart

A rooster crows far in the distance. Its caw cuts through the night cicadas singing their circular song. I hear two warblers and close my eyes to see if I can hear more. I see if I can send my mind further from this historical district to the boundaries of the Village, past the new construction, past the cell towers, past the five star hotel, past the busses of groups bringing in Taijiquan conference attendees. I see if I can send my mind into the fields of eggplant, long beans and corn, the fields where elders work and take breaks to practice Taijiquan, if I can send mind through the ten years I have been here, only ten years, but ten years in a place that holds five hundred years of history,  that has granted me access into deep and profound change. The change of the landscape of this town, the change of history going forward and the change of my own personal practice. I feel nostalgic, I feel grateful. The rooster crows again, the dogs bark. Its almost dawn now in Chenjiagou, day ten for us, our last day.

Yesterday was hard work but it was a lot of fun. Everyone’s body crossed over a hump and speaking for myself, I definitely got a second wind. My old injury has recovered remarkably fast; it is almost as though it didn’t happen. I even thought I could stay another few weeks. As we returned to our home from our night stroll, Doug mused what staying here for three months might look like. It would not be training like we have been, this intense; like at home, this level of training only happens on occasion. We would join GMCXX’s daily classes, immerse ourselves in one of the new language schools opening soon, rest and walk at night. The conditions are certainly easy enough to do that now and if one’s life were configured to allow for it, it would be a spectacular experience. It is so nice to unplug, to focus on one thing, to allow the chaos and hyper stimulation of the US’s news media to recede thousands of miles and a few centuries away.

Yesterday was also a day where we wove our friendships with our training companions even deeper. Though we didn’t take training photos to date, one of our new friends thought we should have them. She spent a great deal of time in the last session taking pictures and videos of our group. The time was right, they will be a treasure for us and I am grateful we now have them both for memory and to be reminded of the lessons learned. During the break we clustered around each other and exchanged our WeChat’s QR codes so we could become “friends” and share these powerful remembrances.

One of my fondest memories of this trip will certainly be the meal conversations with Lin Zhi Hua. Lin Zhi Hua is a bilingual Taijiquan/Qigong teacher at a University a couple of hours from here. She visited with her brother, a student of CXX’s, the first part of the week and after seeing the level of instruction, changed her plans and came back to join the seminar. She has been very helpful in translating certain specific details for GMCXX. Lin Zhi Hua’s mother is here too, caring for her 4 year old daughter while she trains. It is moving to see the support and love in this family. I think about how in three generations China has changed so much: Mother endured the Cultural revolution, Daughter became a Bilingual Female Martial Arts teacher, Granddaughter is having meals with Americans, asking us to be quiet so she could watch Frozen on her Iphone.

Ms. Linn is 43 and her father began teaching her Qigong from the time she was very young. A lifetime of training is revealed in her stunning posture and flowing, calm elegance. She meditates before class and takes notes during breaks. There is wisdom in her presence exuding far beyond her age. Because she teaches two of the same forms we do I have asked her for some more detailed information and corrections on a few of the movements. The next time we come back we’ll spend a day with her for Qigong training. At breakfast her eyes lit up when she saw Nina’s shirt, with the characters for Beginner’s Heart. She said, “Oh yes! This is it!” “In the beginning we are all so excited and happy to learn but after a while we become bored and move on.” “We always have to, we must always, retain our Beginner’s Heart.” This is so much the heart of the art is it not? So much the heart we want for our life? Being with people willing to devote themselves to this practice gives me so much hope.

Every time I return to CJG I bring less. Every time I leave I take more. I cart less luggage, I learn more and more. I drag less internal baggage and gain more freedom. I heave less expectation, I take home more gifts of generosity from my teacher and the Chinese people themselves. What is gathered here over a ten-day period cannot be comprehended in ten short days. It cannot be packed away and stowed. It cannot be forgotten. It can however be unpacked and revealed as my life, the lives of my travelling companions and the lives of our training allies unfold.

We have one more day of training and then leave with the roosters and dogs at dawn tomorrow. We drive 2 hours to Zheng Zhou, fly 90 minutes to Beijing, drive through traffic for an hour or so and check in to our 5 star hotel. That will be it’s own culture shock! Our group showers up (or takes baths!) and wanders according to their preferences for the next day around Beijing. We head back home on the 8^th, carrying our new training clothes, our deep learning, our rich friendships and most importantly our sincere beginner’s heart with us.

This will be my last blog from Chenjiagou. Thank you so very much for following. It was my pleasure to share with you a small slice of this precious experience. Ten Thousand thank you’s. Respect, Salute.

Kim

Seeing

High-pitched barking dogs penetrated my sleep all night long in Chenjiagou. These scrappy little fellows fight for shade and food during the day and at night, just fight. I have not seen any large dogs here, nothing that even approaches the approximate size of a Corgi. They are skinny and sort of ratty with tufted steely hair. Come to think of it I did see one precisely groomed poodle; he seemed completely out of place. Most of the dogs I have seen are dirty white or brown and white, running around close to what might be their home. Some are roamers, it appears, these guys like to forage in neatly piled garbage heaps waiting morning pick up. They look up at the American tourists walking by and then go back to their hungry work. Once or twice I’ve seen a couple eating from a bowl. It is tempting to pet them, to pick them up and hug them but we dare not; I’m not sure they actually would want us to. They seem fiercely independent and I respect that.

We have two more days of training left and are mentally coming down the home stretch. I have already packed up my purchases – the extra small duffle I brought for new training clothes and shoes worked out great. Most people have at least a few new t-shirts and in Nina’s case, several lovely designer non-training outfits from one of the new shops in town. We are definitely feeling it, our group, the other Chinese training with us and perhaps even our teacher, though he continues to pour out generous repetition after repetition. I am shoring up my reserves. Visions of hot baths and home routines threaten to distract me from staying present enough to draw the last bit of marrow out of this incredible Taiji meal.

The one thing I am not packing up is an Iphone full of video clips or training pictures. This is a specialized, “old school” training and from the beginning I said no pictures or filming. Knowing you must be absolutely attentive to the lessons, knowing you will never see the demonstration again in the same way brings a much stronger degree of concentration to the training floor. This is not a Taiji tourist trip. This is training at the source. We have no mirrors either and I noticed the mirrors in the main school have also been taken down. I for one am grateful. Those of us who have been training for decades were never chained to mirrors, DVD’s, YouTube’s and camera phone recording devices for our learning. I have to admit when people ask for all of these tools, I feel it might be more of a crutch and less helpful than one thinks it is. Training oneself to not just be in the moment but to see in the moment, with no thought of seeing later, is its own profound practice.

Grandmaster is demonstrating more this trip than I have ever seen him do. He repeats any given movement sequence sometimes a dozen times. A newer learner might think well of course, its his job to teach but those of us who harken back do not see it like that. It is our job to learn. And to learn this art one must observe, imitate what we see, and then do what no teacher can do for us: internalize it through infinite repetition. We are most fortunate to also be with a teacher that is a genius with hands on correction. This type of learning is not common in the West. We have been trained to be end-goal oriented, self critical and impatient. That type of learning may produce a certain satisfaction when a goal is achieved but it is also a ravenous dog. Any satisfaction is temporary, there will always be another goal to be had and the cycle goes on. Doug said of the type of learning we are here to experience, the rigors of attention, the constant corrections, the patient practice, “I figure this non-western style of education is where most of the time you get it wrong!” And yet, as hard as it can be on ego and expectation, this style of learning allows us to put ourselves back into an innocent wholly receptive state, like a child. It is such a relief.

Sometimes when I watch GMCXX, his beauty of Taijiquan expression blinds me. It is as if a light flashes and all I am able to capture is the after image. I’m glad I have no words to adequately express what I am encountering; it would diminish the experience. I remember it took me a few years to begin to understand what I was feeling when I watched this teacher. He is so subtle, so nuanced and so utterly relaxed I didn’t really have a context. After many decades of study in the Martial and Energetic arts, and with very good teachers along the way, one day I knew I wanted to commit to studying with him. I knew if I really wanted not just to “do” Taijiquan, but to learn Taijiquan, to embody Taijiquan, I would need to yield to his lessons.

As I continue my study with him, with Taijiquan, I also know these are not “his” lessons, but my lessons. I continue to reference my training as a way to evolve out of stressful goal orientated living and self-diminishment through self-criticism. I continue to recognize more useful tools for living a peaceful compassionate life, the tools I am learning to embody through seeing and mirroring and practicing. Perhaps these are humanity’s lessons as well. Though Taijiquan and Qigong are my way, for millennium many practices have evolved with the intention of open this Way for us. These Practices invite us and teach us how to be slower, more pliant, softer, more nuanced and thoughtful, how to feel and see more, not through the head but through our bodies and our hearts. Are these practices not worthy of our complete attention?

Limits

Just as I was feeling 30 again, jumping high, kicking strong, pivoting fluidly, it happened. I denied I was feeling real pain for a few more movements and kept going, but finally I had to sit down. Luckily we were both at the end of the morning session and the end of the detailed instruction in the extremely rigorous kicking section. I was not injured from practice; on the contrary, this training has been extraordinary for me, revealing more understanding and depth and new places to go than ever before. My body has never felt so strong and so free in many years. My injury happened 30 years ago when I was running. It was the first time in my life I had ever been injured and because I had no context for it, I rehabbed myself. I did an adequate job but also created some imbalanced patterns that as I age are the source of most of my body’s mischief. I had received 2 massages from the locals this week and they manipulated my body in ways that certainly helped to find the freedom I was feeling on the floor but combined with this level of training, was too much opening, too fast. Ironically the freedom I was experiencing in releasing so many old patterns also put me right back to the source of my original injury. With my intention to explore up to my limits this trip, with my understanding of how the body/mind works, this specific paradox is not lost on me.

I have always gone at my Martial Arts and the layered meaning inside of them with a purposeful ferocity noted by most people who know me. It is fun to be rigorous and vigorous in life! And yet for me, these are not just health exercises done as a hobby or even as a career, for me, these are arts that saved my life. The fire I found within myself through my arts burned through my earlier difficulties that drew me to them in the first place. I am no longer that depressed teenager looking for ways to leave this life; instead I am a blessed fifty nine year old woman with joy and appreciation for every moment of it. My training has given me all this. My training also draws me to and magnetizes around me people who care enough to find the transformational fire in their own belly. I am extremely grateful to look around me and see the quality of my community garden. It is a precious gift to be with so many others who to use their fire, intentionally composting themselves, burning problems and fertilizing their life’s soil with that ash. What a power we all have! The power to cultivate rocky, depleted dirt into rich fertile loam. To plant seeds there producing juicy, ripe, mature fruit. To stay with the tilling long enough to harvest the banquet and eat at the long table with others. It's a short life truly, what a honor to find other gardeners all over the world. My training has given me all this.

I won’t say when my old injury reared its head I didn’t get scared. I did. I began to hedge my bets about it all; I denied, I joked, I seriously considered not writing about it in this blog. Who wants to hear about this? It’s not easy for me, who has so much time and ego invested in being strong, who has so much joy in living my life feeling all that. And yet, I think we all need to talk about our injuries, perhaps some of us more than others. What is our practice really? If it is not how to find ways of integrating all aspects of ourselves: the weak, the strong, the injured, the terrible, the glorious, then what is it? Chen Xiao Xing said early this week, “we call it a dantien but its really everything, the dirty, the clean, all the intestines, all of it!” This statement has been at the background of my training all week long as one of the more profound teachings I have heard him say. We martial artists are trained to not show weakness and yet we also know there is so much power in sinking down through into the very root of ourselves, to the source of ourselves, to where we connect past ourselves, our compensations, our individual experiences. Into that large river we know flows through each one of us and connects us to the whole of nature, indeed to the universe. We know our art, our life is the Yin and the Yang, the strong and the weak, the ferocious and the gentle and the great turning within it all. What a powerful opportunity I have been given to go deeper into this.

A few of our group is in their 30’s and 40’s but most of us are in our late 50’s and 60’s. Submitting this age of body to this level of training, 55+ hours of source Taijiquan over ten days alone, much less the miles of walking and exploring, powered by unfamiliar food and air, encased by unaccustomed cultural cues, does have a cautionary tale. I will not deny my pride when several of the Chinese in our group are surprised to hear how old we are, going at it like this. I am impressed with our training ethic! It’s easy to leave the floor of training and even of life when confronted with these layers of ourselves, physical or otherwise and yet here we are making a different choice. And still, one must be awake to one's own limits. Between Gary’s thoughtful and skilled bodywork, Kathy & Nicolas’s healing salves, my body will be just fine. Thankfully I'm still able to practice, perhaps not like a 30 year old, but with my own knowledge of my body and Chen Xiao Xing’s masterful corrections, I will be able to continue to keep my structure stable and soak in the nuanced and generous information. My group is taking good care of me, and we are taking good care of each other. It is my good fortune to be on the floor with others who understand both the strong and the delicate.

The days remain hot but clear in Chenjiagou. I am thankful for this window of no pollution and every night I soak in the stars. Soon the new streetlights along the cobbled walking paths will be live, and their light will take away something from this rich darkness. In addition to our training, we have contributed to the economy of this town and in doing so made new friends. Its been fun to use our Chinese to connect even if for just a t-shirt. Betty and I took a longer walk yesterday morning and saw the swanky new hotel - a 5 star, across from the huge complex that holds a stadium and will hold much more. Signs are popping up advertising language schools, new training facilities and shops. The construction in the historic district where we are continues at lightening speed, hopefully mitigating too much mud by the time the rains come. I’m hearing about the rains too in Seattle and am ever so slightly turning my thoughts back towards home.

Narrative

The rich complex of sensations overwhelmed me after Grandmaster’s first correction and I began to resist. I tightened my muscles and clamped my mind. I dug deep in, looking for the pay dirt that would be my fierce determination, powering me for the duration of this session. I listened to what I was telling myself. Pain. It’s all pain. My legs and frying, my feet are like sausages, where is my breath? My mind, exhausted to from sprinting through its maze of strategies looking for an exit sign or even just a door who’s door sign might say, “open here and find your capacity to get through Day 6.” Fear. I was scared. How will I endure this? Will I fall? Will I die? Worse, will I just quit? I’m the leader here! I told my students, there is only one rule, “don’t leave the floor.” I really wanted to leave the floor. This was going to be a very long thirty minutes. Right then, GMCXX walked up behind me, put his hands on my hips and drew me further down.

I realized if I was going to make it through this session something would have to change. I could not bear to give up so I had to figure out some other way. I asked myself, “What really is going on here?” I answered, “THIS HURTS!” I asked myself again, “Is this really pain?” Hum… Is it? What a good question. I looked again inside the sensations. I felt them, inquisitively, to see if I could confirm or deny my theory of this so called pain and all the stories it was broadcasting throughout my psyche. Another voice inside of me calmly said, “you know, this really isn’t pain.” Wow! THAT was a new narrative. I explored it.

If I did not tell myself this was pain, if I reminded myself my teacher would never harm me then I became certain my body could hold this posture.  I also knew if true pain did come, if damage might occur, I had complete authority to stand up, walk off the floor and deal with it. Since that was not happening, I did further research. I stayed in it and watched and investigated. Indeed over the next several minutes I came to the conclusion this that I was experiencing was not pain at all. It was intense, it was compelling, it was certainly challenging, but it was not pain. In fact, as time went on I realized it was a rather interesting if not even at times a rather pleasant group of sensations. I found new strength. I found new connections and new places in my hips that I had not previously been aware of. I felt my structure kick in in more supportive ways. At the end of the session I was giddy.

Even though this experience was so great, day six was hard for me. I joked with my students who have done these intense trainings that my Day 3 came on Day 6. I was tired. I was irritable. I could tell I was entering into the place I was going to have to dig deeper into my narrative of how I perceive these physical and emotional states to stabilize myself in newer and more useful ways. And yet as challenging as this was, I also received two corrections from Grandmaster that changed everything for me. These corrections revealed a new place of ease within a particularly challenging movement sequence for me. I felt, perhaps for the first time in Taijiquan, a place of depth but also of utter and complete comfort. I felt solid and secure internally and completely supported by nature around me. I realized this is what is worth working so hard for, not just in this art but also in life. We all have this issue of what we tell ourselves about ourselves, our life, our experiences, what it all means and does not mean. This a big challenge and a glorious opportunity for each of us – what if when encountering ourselves in scary ways we simply decide to explore and if needed, change our narrative?

The Big Dipper loomed large over the night streets of Chenjiagou. Vendors spread their tasty meats over hot grills, fragrant steam wafted through the air. Elders smiled at us foreigners walking by, greeting each other, stopping to chat with new friends along the way. We stopped into our shops who now know our routine; what we like to buy: popsicles, water, and though we know what is on the shelves we still look around. As much as I am enjoying my time here now, I thought I might miss some of the old memories of this place, the roosters, the sheep, even the more challenging living conditions. All this is still here, but not as much and I also know I have those memories in me forever and new ones are just as precious. I thought I might be sad and worried the modernization will strip an essence of the history and though I do think it probably will, I also find the increasing prosperity heartening for generations of families who lived in rugged ways. More importantly I trust in myself, my colleagues, my students and especially in this family to keep the historical narrative alive. Chenjiagou, you will always have my heart, more so now than ever.

Submerged

I feel GMCXX walk up behind me. The game has already begun, one who’s outcome is predetermined and yet I still play it, willingly. In the few moments between the beginning of our session and feeling Grandmaster's hands draw my hips back I have attempted to put my body where he will be satisfied, a place that demonstrates I have figured out the years of lessons. A place he will approve of, where he will not have to sink my hips back, soften my chest and shoulders and straighten my head. I play this game class after class, year after year, and still, the corrections come, the burning comes, the sweat comes. Of course this is a game I do not really believe I will ever win, nor do I wish to. One of the reasons I study with this teacher is for his skill but more because he always pushes me further into into mine. And there is always a correction, several, an infinite number, to be had. Always. This is the art of Taijiquan, this is this teacher.

And so the real challenge is to see how long I can hold what he gifts me. How long I can convince my body to feel what it feels after he corrects me? How long can I stand with hips bent, knees bent, weight back, allowing gravity to draw me down and load my muscles to where I would never put myself. How long can sweat pour down my face and neck without me wiping it down, how long can my legs, like grasshoppers, stay in the frying pan? As students we can try to go where we think we can outsmart our teachers, where we can hedge our pain bets just to the degree where we can sustain it with one tiny bit of comfort. It makes sense, really, the human survival mechanism is in place too deeply to willingly go where it thinks it will die. And yet learning from him, for me, is just that. How long can I stay submerged under water without my body telling me I have to take a breath?

I have strategies when the sensations threaten to overcome my fierce determination. I count my breaths. I imagine myself on one of my stair climbs, the cool Seattle air surrounding me, a favorite song soothing my brain. But these are temporary measures and useless really, distractions away from the task of simply standing right there, under water, trusting I will not die. There really is no other way to accumulate body memory and skill than this. Pursuing other ways of learning – through books or videos or other less physically rigorous methods end up being perhaps not a complete waste of time but certainly time spent less effectively. To learn Taijiquan one simply must get into one’s body.

I always know what he will go after. It's the same structural mischief and tension patterns session after session, year after year. I know many of these patterns are not personal. They are human tension patterns, lifestyle tension patterns, patterns learned from other movement arts or deviations from birth or developed through injury or illness. But some of them are personal, a muscle group bound up for no apparent reason, a tilt of the head, a jutting chin. In fact, I realized a couple of days ago that I actually fight really hard to keep my tension patterns in place. I am certainly strong enough to let them go, I am resilient enough to endure the plethora of sensation that comes from being in “that” place. In fact anyone who knows me knows I love this process, I crave it, I am grateful for it. And so, why, I asked myself the other day, am I fighting so hard to keep tension in place? It is indeed as if somewhere I believe if I let it go, I will die. 

One of the Taijiquan cues is “chen(2).” Linda did some research on this term and used in this context means, “to submerge,” “to immerse,” “to sink.” This term is used a lot throughout Taijiquan instruction to signal a process that must be found in between each movement element prior to going on to the next. Before we actually shift our center of gravity, we need to “chen(2)”, sink, submerge. An added layer of this character reveals it also means “to sink the thoughts.” A fascinating reveal! Perhaps then when I, when we, fight hard to hold tension we are really fighting to hold on to a thought, a belief about who we think we are. What if... What if submerging those thoughts, those beliefs deep into the Taijiquan wellspring we could discover a place of ease, of letting go, of relief?  These tension patterns we fight so hard to keep have shaped us in ways that do not allow us to breath but instead bind us and keep us proportionally separated from a richer place available to us all. A great teacher brings us exactly into ourselves, where the lesson is not to endure, but to let go. 

We had a great day yesterday: a rigorous morning training and after lunch time exploring the Taijiquan park and Museum. It was too hot for me and after photos and a bit of prowling I allowed myself to opt out, having seen this place many times now. Whereas I returned to rest in the a/c, I was happy many stayed and took photos and made memories. We had a fantastic dinner in Wenxian last night with another American group here for a week of study and travel with their teacher. New people arrive daily to study with our group. I think Grandmaster has a gravitational pull; when people find out he is teaching a structured class, they show up. Nina said, “He is the Shaman.” Yes. He is the Mystic, the Shaman, the Village Teacher. “He is the best in the China,” one of my new Chinese friends, a sister of one of GMCXX’s disciples, said. “After I met him yesterday, I had to change my plans and come back to CJG to study with him,” Our group is still small, about 20, there is still a threshold one must walk through to study with him; we are most fortunate. The sun is up, the dogs bark. Day 6 begins shortly. It goes too quickly from here.

"Let go into the Mystery, let yourself go. There is no other place to be, this I know. You've got to dance and sing and be alive in the Mystery, be joyous and give thanks, and let yourself go." - Van Morrison

Language

I slept through the entire night for the first time. No wonder, twenty five hours of training so far, miles of walking around the Village, an excellent massage – two actually; one from a Tuina professional from the area, and one from Gary, a Thai Massage professional in our group from Portland, Oregon. He offers all takers the opportunity to get some bodywork over the noon break. The only cost is that we walk on his back too. A fair trade! For us! Its still early, I remain in the precious space between deep sleep and what energy comes next. It is so quiet. There is only a low hum of cicadas in the distance and an occasional dog barking. I keep my morning tea ritual alive here, filling my REI thermos with travel filters of Assam or Earl Grey, there is milk in the Village and I bring my own honey bear. Even though I feel very comfortable here in Chenjiagou, this ritual, along with cruising around on Facebook, keeps away any occasional rumblings of missing my Seattle life. This blog helps too, to not just keep a record, but to stay connected with all of you. I am grateful you take the time to read it and am surprised when I hear some of my fellow trainees have directed their family and friends this way. I hope you are getting a good sense of our time. Your family members & friends are doing great!

The forecast is for 100 today; it will be our ½ day. I think the timing is right; we are entering the slog phase of training. GMCXX has given us a huge amount of information and now it’s grinding out repetition after repetition to see what we can actually assimilate - its good for both student and teacher to have a break about now, to rest the body and shore up resolve for the second ½ of the training. We’ll head over to the Taijiquan Museum and Park. Its quite lovely there; it has evolved exponentially from just 10 ½ years ago when 27 of us from all over the world bowed and knocked our heads on the dusty cement floor during our Disciple ceremony at the feet of Grandmaster Chen Xiao Wang. We were the first non-Chinese group to become family members. It was just the temple then, no museum, no park, the graves were simpler, and there were certainly no Chinese tour buses with guides describing some history through horns to their charge. I am grateful the Village is prospering and that this temple of our beloved Taijiquan’s origin story will be so intentionally cared for and supported, even if simply for Tourism. I’m also grateful I’ll always see and feel the temple through my early eyes, the incense wafting and long table laden with pig’s head and copious platters of fruit. I will always remember the media packed in taking photos and positioning the long microphones for interviews of this historic event. I will never forget the look in Grandmaster’s olive shaped eyes when he gave us each the red book, an old and very powerful ritual where Master and Student pledge fidelity to the lineage and to the transmission of the art. Honestly, I don’t think I had any idea what I was getting into at that moment in time and could not have foreseen how the Village would change over the next ten years. I could not fathom how much Taijiquan itself would change, nor how that experience would shape and transform me too.

We are most fortunate to have three people in our group who speak excellent Chinese, Linda, Kathy and Betty Dong. Chen Xiao Xing calls on Linda at times to translate; Kathy and I were pulled off the street and given a tour of a private new small hotel in process. The owner was very happy to show off the tremendous workmanship and we were most happy to ooohhh and ahhhh and say in Chinese, “So beautiful! So big!” And so on. It was truly gorgeous, the tile, the banisters, the atrium and lighting, each large bedroom had its own bath, large hardwood doors used throughout. There is a lot of tile used here in the new construction; it’s easier to keep clean. The amount of hardwood used in doors and furniture is certainly environmentally telling. Mary, Laura and I are language neophytes but are getting by surprisingly well, thanks to our lessons with Shiuwen. Mary exchanged some pants at a store, Laura chatted with our teachers, I made arrangements for dinner tonight in Wen Xian and invited Chen Yi Jun.

We are all able to make friends too. We can ask, “what is your name” and “where are you from” and “how long have you been practicing” of the other Chinese in our group. I love that we are integrating in this way; it certainly deepens the cultural component of our trip. The dialect is different and tones are difficult but as Shiuwen reminded us, if they want to understand you, they will.I find Chinese people very open and curious and the efforts we are all making not just with Taijiquan, but with each other, are proving this to be exactly right. My favorite part of traveling and sharing deep experiences is being with diverse people who actually want to understand each other. It's a lesson we all need to embrace more wholeheartedly within our own shared language culture is it not?

One of the benefits of learning Taijiquan at the source is experiencing the power of its original language. Because it is woven into the art’s cultural context, spoken through generations of the founding family itself, terms that render in English as “open,” “close,” “divide/separate,” “turn upside down/turn over,” “relax/slacken/loosen,” “sink/submerge,” “shift/move your center of gravity” take on their original feeling. Hearing them here through Chen Xiao Xing's powerful commanding voice, their layers of historical meaning expressed with the intention to convey layers of understanding, is searing. The Western mind is too divided in its training generally speaking and being in this environment one has the chance to leap over that chasm to not just learn but to comprehend, to intuit, to receive directly. The choice to be here and work in this way is not just the choice to learn Taijiquan or have a cultural experience, but the choice to grapple with and work to change one’s subterranean, ethnocentric perspective. In doing so one is making a different choice about who one is or wants to be in the world. To join others on this very powerful training floor of humanity or remain forever isolated.

The Container

Day Three came and went and nobody died. I didn’t talk about Day Three to the group, deciding instead to allow events to unfold as they would. And besides, Day Three might be different this time and I didn’t want to jinx it. I’m not sure what it is about this particular hump, perhaps it's the threshold where jet lag truly abates, or perhaps it might be when the long hours of training finally kick in, or it might be the day when the honeymoon is over and one realizes one is here for the duration. There is an energy about being in a hot, sweaty container, where language and cultural cues are completely different, where you are pushing yourself beyond your limits and knowing you cannot easily leave. Americans especially are so used to freedom of movement and easy access to anything; there is an entitlement therein, a privilege we take so much for granted we don’t think about it until we are put in a situation, even a safe controlled one, where this is limited in ways we are not used to.

Everyone reacts differently to the compression chamber of Chenjiagou. One of our group is sick, another is dehydrated, another has a heat rash. Many are learning they are much stronger than they realized. The walls of this style of container shift quickly, the experience of this shift can be brutal, and especially for first timers, it catches one off guard. Even though I have been here now seven times, I usually have a very difficult day three. I do have strategies to get through it but I still experience it. I’m watching my body, there is quite a bit of time to go, but I’m also intentionally pushing myself to the edge of my limits. I really want to know where that place is for me, right now and I was challenged physically yesterday. But day three is never about the physical. To be honest, that part is easy to endure. My challenge is as a group leader here for the first time. I have to watch and wrestle with my own inclination to want everything to be ok for everyone. So when the bottom started falling out for people I saw my day three was to study and learn more about my urge to try to fix things. I knew everything would be ok, that everyone would be ok, so my test was to see if I could step aside and allow everyone to have his or her own unpleasant experiences. It’s like good therapy; you don’t always understand what you are learning at the time, sometimes until even years later. It would be a mistake for me to try to soften that for people. It was hard, but I did it.

As I reflect on this dogs bark along the streets of Chenjiagou. I’ve been up for only about an hour, sleeping more now through the night. I bring sleeping aids but I don’t like to take them. They don’t really work for me on the one hand but on the other hand I prefer the altered state of consciousness that +15 jetlag brings. Lack of sleep combined with the training and China generally speaking puts me in place I don’t have easy access to in day-to-day life. I don’t want to dull the raw perceptions that are only revealed when the mask of habit, even sleep habit, is pulled off. Its about 5:15 am right now; still dark, and a cat is meowing below my window- the first one I’ve heard this trip. The feral animal population is sparser this year; I think there is there is too much construction in the Village for them to be comfortable.

I also hear the car door shutting, taking Svetlana back to Zheng Zhou for her return to Russia. What a deep joy to meet her face to face. We had a chance to train together last night, just for a bit. She walked into the training quad just as my muscles and tendons had reached their limits under the highly skilled hands of one of Chen Zi Qiang’s disciples during the last moments of our sword class. This bright, spunky 17 year old bested me! We all had some good laughs as I collapsed on the brick of the training quad. We all practiced together, coaches and new friends, for a few more minutes and then spent some time talking. Thanks to Shiuwen Tai, Laura and I had enough Chinese to actually chat a bit, Kathy is more fluent and the younger kids know some English. Svetlana knows English too so we were all able to really express our heartfelt gratitude for the lessons as well as our deep love and appreciation for being together at this very brief moment in time in this incredibly special place.

There is truly a magic here. I think it is that the container, this school, so elegantly cultivated over so many centuries, so intentionally designed to share this art in all its dimension, so rigorously strengthened by GMCXX & CZQ, draws a certain temperament of people together. Day threes come and go but people who decide to dig deep, to stay inside themselves and not leave no matter the challenges, are bonded forever. We may meet only once, we may be together for a lifetime but inside the container of courage, endurance and joy we recognize each other in an instant and will always remain connected in our hearts.

“Politicians try to divide the world. But we are Taiji people, we only try to unite it. No matter what country you are from, we have one world, one breath, one big Taiji family." quoted from Svetlana Kobyakova's FB status, August 29, 2016 Chenjiagou, China

Sweat and Cicadas

Our group loves to take walks during our breaks. We explore, shop for t-shirts and take pictures. It’s really great to see the town at different times of day, to feel its multi-faceted rhythm, to hear the cicada’s song constant throughout each phase sift. Dawn is my favorite; its cool and quiet, there are only a handful of people out strolling, a couple of small dogs running around and a few elder women sweeping dust off the streets. Early evening is captivating too, small flatbeds are packed full of workers bussing them home to neighboring towns. They noisily clack clack clack over the new cobble walkways, past night vendors oiling their grills. The later evening is magical; the atmosphere wraps us in a cool breeze and the star filled night sky guides us home after sword practice.

Our longest time for strolling (if we aren't sleeping) is over the noon break. It is certainly the hottest time. Its in the high eighties now and the forecasts are for 100 by mid-week. The midday sun sears down and much of the town, save for a few shops, wisely takes a siesta.  They start up again around 2 and I feel for the workers digging deep pits, laying pavers, moving joists and pouring cement. On any given job site there might be a dozen or more people working. Chen Xiao Xing said they are both Chenjiagou residents and those from nearby towns. I’m sure there are no OSHA rules to comply with; the bravest workers straddle scaffolding while they hoist up steel rods and place windowpanes. We noticed one man in particular because he so gracefully moved along scaffolding about 3 stories up. His body was set up with a large orange tether wrapped around his legs & torso but when we looked closer we noticed that tether was connected only to his confidence! He saw us pull our cameras and gleefully showed off, holding up his rod like Rocky Balboa and gave our Iphones the best pose and a wide, wide smile. 

There are so many people working. In fact, I would not be surprised if by the time October comes most of this phase will be completed when another wave of my friends & colleagues arrive for training. In just over two days we have seen dirt dug and leveled, stones and pavers laid, grouted and cemented and facades shaped throughout this more historic area of Chenjiagou. The details of what lays ahead just outside the main gate are emerging: there looks to be more upscale traditional style Chinese architecture lining the streets, there is a credit union that seems to be open now. It has an ATM too that is not quite yet operational. There is a larger grocery store and plenty of places still in the middle of construction that look like they will be hotels or housing. For those who have been here you will be surprised to see the traditional Hutong area on the other side of the Chen Ditch is completely torn down. There is no road leading from the main street across the ditch anymore. I can’t tell if it was bulldozed or washed out. Chen Xiao Xing said it will become something for tourists – hotel, parking, or something along those lines. The residents have moved to other locations throughout the Village. The Ditch itself needs a lot of work. Right now its full of garbage but I am confident it will be brought up to speed, becoming the crown jewel of tourism of Chenjiagou. Chen Xiao Xing said the Government pays for all this, save for the upgrades to his school, and I assume the other private schools, which are funded by the families who run them.

Back in the training hall sweat pours down our bodies. We have a/c, kept at around 26c, and it's a blessing for our skin but does not address what is happening on the inside of our bodies in the least. And so sweat towels are getting a good workout too, sopping up necks and puddles on the tiled floor after standing and Silk Reeling practice especially. I don't use one, I like the feeling of rivulets of water, salt and ego running down my back and legs; it focuses me just enough to endure one more round of Grandmaster's corrections. I’m so glad we have others sweating with us too, I’m enjoying getting to know them. Because his reputation and training style are very much in demand, people from all over China come to study with Grandmaster. There are also couple of folks from Russia I know from Facebook who are here; meeting them in person is quite special. Those of us who commit to our training enough to spend time in Chenjiagou not as tourists, but as students, share an extraordinary bond that transcends language, culture, gender and age.

My students and colleagues are doing great, my own body is holding up well too. I wasn’t sure on day one if the extra training I had put in, including miles of stairclimbs, would in anyway be useful once I submitted my muscles and mind to the knowing hands of the Chen Family but I do think it is paying off. I joked with our sword group questioning if our teachers are “taking pity on our middle aged selves.” Kathy said, “they are not training us like we are middle aged!” We all got a good laugh out of that walking home under the night sky. We talked a bit more about being older students and Kathy asked me if I was embracing turning 59 in a couple weeks. Absolutely! I think the 50’s are a hard decade for a woman; there are so many changes. I know it was a rugged slog for me at times. And yet it is also a very powerful time. A time to commit to finding and developing a new foundation that will sustain the next phase of growth, of evolving wisdom, going forward into the 60’s and beyond. I am extremely grateful to feel my body and my determination able to stay strong under these conditions and I am extremely grateful to have my practice, the resources at this level, as well as the companions I do, to accompany me along the Way.

Training at Home

Orion stretched out across the warm autumn sky over Chenjiagou. The Big Dipper too, along with an assembly of twinkling companions, peeked through the trees, illuminating the training quad of the old school. The omnipresent symphony of cicadas that loudly punctuate the audio landscape during the day had receded. It was quiet under this high glistening blanket, save for rows of young women and men counting off through their night training paces, well organized lines of human muscle and concentration meticulously drilling kicks and punches over the concrete slab in front of the school. Seven of our group decided to take full advantage of the time here and added to our already intense 5 hour day with Grandmaster Chen Xiao Xing several 90 minute evening weapons training sessions with Chen Zi Qiang. It sounded like a good idea at the time but between sore muscles and jet lag I know I was not the only one doubting our wisdom as we made our way onto the training quad a bit after sunset.

We folded comfortably into the school’s evening training routine and all doubts evaporated. This training quad will always hold my heart and even with the changes outside the school, it remains so dear with over a decade of experiences and sweat I have had right here. I have only had lessons with Chen Zi Qiang in Seattle and Phoenix so it was a rich joy to be with him on his home turf. As with his father, he is a fantastic teacher and as with his father, Chen Zi Qiang is extremely happy in the Village. He clearly loves his students and family and is utterly animated and relaxed in his superior command of teaching and coaching. Chen Zi Qiang took very good care of us, making sure we had swords to borrow and water to drink. Even with his ongoing duties, he gave us a great deal of his time, plumbing us more into the detailed depths of his family’s 54 sword form, a precious historical jewel we all feel honored to learn. There were several others of his young, powerful students with us and I was especially grateful for their skill and grace helping to smooth out the clumsiness of our middle aged efforts.

Chen Zi Qiang has made a powerful name for himself and for his Chen Family Taijiquan over the past decade. His devotion both to the history of his family forms and to keeping the root integrity of Taijiquan as a martial art is unparalleled. The fruits of this effort are ripening. The main school is now clearly established to more solidly foster a boxing environment: the main hall that used to be for training large groups primarily in empty hand forms now holds a good size boxing ring and another large circular training apparatus for training throws, there are more weights and heavy bags, he trains his students hard and they love it. Several are champions. All of us who study with the family have thought a lot about this intentional evolution. Taijiquan is going in many different directions now and though the fighting elements are not my current focus I have come to feel it is a very good thing to keep them flourishing. Chen Zi Qiang has ensured the martial roots of Taijiquan will stay alive and this is extremely important to the stability of the lineage going forward.

It has become clear to me there is also an intentional training of the next generation to be out into the global community teaching. Along with the help of Chen Zi Qiang’s senior students during the evening, Grandmaster Chen Xiao Xing’s second son, Chen Zi Jun, is with us during the day. His father appears to be mentoring him in leading and demonstrating in front of a group of foreigners. I am extremely impressed with both GMCXX and CZQ's gentle skill in coaching their students and family to prepare for their future roles. It is fascinating how this younger group is more at ease with English, they confidently coach using it and can understand and answer questions in it. I think there is still an advantage as a learner to knowing Chinese, a big one, but it is also humbling to experience how far these native speakers of both language and art will go to generously teach foreigners.

Each time I come here I feel a tremendous sense of privilege. I understand we are not Chinese and not blood relatives but I also know they take me very seriously as indoor student, and my students also receive this benefit. We are not just tourists coming through for a class or two, and these people will come more and more as the Village evolves into a place more welcoming for tourists. I cannot say its a bad or a good thing, Grandmaster doesn't like it, the shop owners do, but when it comes to Taijiquan we have had years together and our mutual respect for each other shows in our efforts to come here, to their home, to train, and how well we are treated. I remain filled with gratitude for my good fortune in knowing this branch of the Chen Family and I know my students are too.

Day two starts soon and I am looking forward to more time burning my legs and my ego on the training floor. Chen Xiao Xing’s classes are, as always, stunningly good. He is demonstrating a lot. He is hands-on, a lot. He is speaking much more than I have heard him speak. His sharp, efficient, exact corrections sear into my body/mind. With him, there are always more nuances, more interconnection, more fluidity to perceive, to plumb. I am always stunned at the level of detail, each time I see something, feel something, I think, let me just work on this one element for ten days…. This is the benefit to a ten-day training with nothing else to distract, in a place that is, even with all that is going on, wholly about Taijiquan and its origin story, in a place that is, your teacher’s home.

Untethered

Bullet Train G559 left Beijingdong at 9:13 am sharp on Friday. Our group now fully convened and relatively rested, showered and fed we enthusiastically embarked upon the next leg of our journey. By the time our train departed we had already glided through a couple of travel related glitches. “Its China!” “We’re traveling now!” we all nodded. These bumps cost us only a bit in terms of stress but nothing in terms of outcome. “We haven’t seen a problem yet,” Doug said later that same day, the resilience and grounded temperament of our travel tribe having been tested and successfully established. Bullet trains are becoming a solid part of China’s infrastructure. This line was completed just a few years ago, we took it in 2014 and I really enjoyed it. The three hours overland gives a bit more time to settle in. Its less rushed than heading back to the airport and gives one more feeling of pilgrimage, I believe. As our long snout-nosed impeccably clean carriage pulled out of the station we looked out from car #6 onto an uncharacteristically Seattle-like blue sky.  

The mountains surrounding Beijing quickly receded into rich fertile landscape. This part of China looks like Midwest farmland. Even at 302 km/hour one can easily make out abundant corn, grassy crops and orchards. There is also a lot of new construction; stark Communist architecture rises high behind an extremely robust and sprawling electrical grid. Billboards advertise the promise of a lively, more prosperous life in these new cities, which will surely be plentifully peopled the next time we come back. “The National Bird of China is the Crane,” we reminded each other. “It looks just like Seattle & Portland,” we added. And indeed one cannot escape the realty of population expansion & globalization be it Ballard or Beijing.

I love to travel. And even though the older I get the harder it is to leave what I love about home and lob myself untethered into the world, there is very little I personally have experienced that is as good for me as doing just that. I’ll be 59 in a couple weeks and I know my life is shaped, sharpened and honed by the unique people and unusual landscapes I have encountered. Even if they, like this one, look like the fields of my own Midwest home, even if the faces around me look like those I see everyday in the coffee shops of the Pacific Rim, there is an undefined something about travel that instantly sucks out the familiar, spits it out along the tracks forged of one’s daily experience and invites, nay forces the mind to open wider, to be unknowing, to be liberated. The tight strings that bind me to that which is familiar unfurl, leaving me with nothing to hang on to. It is utterly compelling, it is unnerving, but even with all the ease and blessed comforts of my daily life, I crave this freedom.

From Zheng Zhou we boarded our bus to Chenjiagou and in a bit over two hours we arrived at our destination. For some it is their first time, but for those of us who have been here before we could not have been fully prepared for the changes we had been hearing about. The whole small town is under construction. Familiar old shops are emptied right now as they undergo a complete remodel. There is scaffolding on many of the buildings, including the old school. Most of the main drag streets are completely torn up. Their concrete, now in boulder heaps, sits along side as the dirt foraged underneath is smoothed, being made ready for the installation of narrower cobbled street/walkways that will replace the wide streets of the historic main road. Already wide swaths of grass and trees are in many places in between the street and the shops. I’m not sure if the end result will be a walkway only – it probably should be, the former two car + three wheeled vehicles + scooter + pedestrian width is really now just suited for that type of set up.

It took us a bit of navigating to get to Chen Zi Qiang’s place, part his and his family’s home and part a dorm for visiting students of his and his father’s. At first I was a bit nostalgic that we would not be staying in the old dorms that overlook the training field, roosters calling us awake, but that quickly gave way to relief when I realized we would be in a very quiet area a couple blocks a way. There is no construction here and the character of this street retains the feeling of the Village I had come to know. The dorms are very nice. They are clean with Western toilets, running hot water, air conditioning and from my room a full 5 bars of Wifi. My how things have changed!

We dropped our luggage and walked over to the main school to greet Grandmaster Chen Xiao Xing. The moment I saw him, all the newness and chaos dissolved. He is my teacher and that place has not changed. He looks fantastic; anyone who knows him knows this is really his place. He is so at home and at ease here, loving, mischievous and most happy to have us here for the lessons. The Korean group just finished up, they have that look of gleeful exhaustion and as they came in to get their pictures taken, they said hello and we chatted briefly. I could not help but feel the torch was being passed.

We’re all tucked in now for the next ten days of training and untethering. This is a more quiet time for foreign students but we will see others we know are here training with various teachers and schools. We’ll run into each other on those torn up streets, step over scaffolding, get mud on our shoes and shake our heads in amazement at the changes. And yet we know underneath it all we are simultaneously witnessing and becoming a deeper part of Taijiquan’s skyrocketing evolution throughout the world.

Trust

As I write this we’re already five hours into our 11.5 hour flight. I’m not quite sure where we are; the plane is dark and quiet, fellow passengers are tucked into movies or underneath blankets and eye pads, yet outside its still blinding light. My global clock reads 10:34 pm in Seattle and 1:34 in Beijing yet oddly my Iphone banner simply reads 5:34 pm. Time is so interesting in thin air. I’ve already slept a bit with my noise cancelling headphones washing a couple of playlists through my brain. I was looking forward to this flight. Life has been too chaotic this past month and I survived some of the more compressed times by visualizing this expanded period where these headphones and 35,000 feet would keep out all phones, emails and compelled organizing for a little while.

Every time I travel I’m amazed big hunks of steel fly through the air. More I’m amazed I actually trust they will carry me safely from home to wherever I’m going. It's a little insane to have that trust, really. Best not to think about it too much. This is a good flight; a smaller older plane, a 767. Its comfortable enough but honestly, better than this bulk head economy comfort seat I sprung the extra $200 for, is that I am in it with some of my favorite people. I realize while we hurl ourselves through time zones and atmosphere from our beloved home to the Middle Kingdom I trust these people with my life really, both in this flying tin can and on the training floor – the one we have at home and soon, the one several thousand miles away.

And how can it be any other way? We share a rich strong bond cultivated over time and sweat. As fascinating as this moment of flying is, more so is the mystery that draws a group of humans together, each a wholly unique and unlikely combination of blood, qi and neurons congealing for a few decades if we are lucky, and yet so animated and lively as to find each other somehow and join in curiosity and deep intention – both within the day in and day out slog and on an adventure of unknown possibilities. This is the power of affinity - sharing a common interest and being willing to nurture it together over time.

This last Sunday before our trip I had a significant anxiety spike while leading the class in the Laojia. I couldn’t put my finger on it; everything was in order. As I flowed the form I held the anxiety steady and just let it be. About ¾ of the way through I realized what it was. What if we flew all this way, sacrificed our time, money and surety, our home comforts and time with loved ones, what if we did all that, travelled two days to our destination, and what if when we arrived no one was there to teach us? What if we walked into any empty Village? A wholly unlikely outcome, certainly, one that best kept for the therapy couch, but there it was. I was afraid every effort I made towards having and providing a chance for a great training experience, would utterly fail. After our practice I shared my anxiety with our group. Without missing a beat, Nichole said, “in that case we will simply make our own Kung Fu movie with our Iphones!” I laughed outloud through tear glistened eyes. There really is only one rule in travelling to China – leave all expectations behind and go with the flow. Nichole, a newbie to this experience, nailed it. I knew at that moment, no matter what, everything would be just fine.

By the time dear readers you finish this first blog with your morning tea, we’ll be tucked into our hotel rooms for a shower and some sleep. We’ll be 15 hours ahead of Seattle and for you home friends, when you are just going to sleep, we’ll be eating breakfast. We’ll then be swept off to the South Train Station and onto the Bullet train. We'll travel a relaxing 3 hours to Zheng Zhou. We’ll then meet a bus and travel 2 more hours to Chenjiagou. There, we’ll tuck in for our ten days of Taijiquan training starting the next day. During that time we will learn and deepen and eat bitter and laugh. We’ll be thrilled to be there and secretly think to ourselves this is the last time we’ll do it. But all the while we know we’ll always come back. We’ll learn about Taijiquan certainly but the real learning of China, of Chenjiagou, is learning to trust our own resiliency. Respect! Salute! Kim

From left: Nicholas, Doug, Nichole, Kathy, Gary, Kim, Mary, Greg, Laura. Meeting us in Beijing will be Nina, Linda, Betty & Robert.