poetry, etc.

Sifu Terry Beckett turns 50 on Thursday--to celebrate she challenged the students and sifus on kwoon talk to write a poem.  The subject was how we feel while working on a form or technique.  To be honest, I didn't really do that.  It's about kung fu, at least.  

At any rate, I haven't decided if this is good or terrible, but she encouraged us to post it on our blog, so here it is.  It's called 'Happy Birthday Sifu: A Study in the Mating Habits of Africanized Honey Bees When Exposed to Barry White.'

Ok, so the title is still a work in progress.

-----------

first direction 

body input as a sense(s), twice removed from the inheritance of pain
the subject the subjectism
reinhabiting myself
twice removed.
form as meaning
(behind form)

second direction
the analogy of combat
enemies flicker on the cave wall I am weighed down sinking into removal 

until the light becomes air the sunshine burns my eye out.
blind fighting never existed.
move back, once again
shed unreality
become form
as
become form
is.

third direction
is is isis
conceives horus.
tricks of the tongue become flashes of the fist.
meaning goes cave follows.
nothing left but process but form.
the eyes are growing back.
play it right,
we'll make it out alive.

no direction
four as not number
circles back to one
bowing
no applause sign, empty seats unreal
performing for a reflexive audience.

quiet as a mouse, big as a house

The silence is done.

It's interesting to see my command of language in my postings begin to deteriorate after a few days. I miss pronouns, repeat myself sometimes and generally just write awkwardly. Despite how much I write for school and pleasure, it is still rooted in sound. Losing my sense of that sound really threw me off balance.

Whenever I had to deal with a stranger, I pretended to be actually mute. Most people were very accommodating (especially considering my terrible handwriting), but there were two cases (one at a shop, the other at the gym) when the other person treated me like I was an idiot. Even after explaining that I could hear fine, just couldn't speak, they both sounded their words out slowly and used very simple diction. They were basically trying to make me feel stupid.

Amongst friends or acquaintances, it was really cool. At the beginning, because of my ridiculous charades or writing things down I had serious trouble contributing to a conversation--by the time I had written my point down everyone had moved on. Pretty quickly, though, everyone had empathized and accommodated to the point where, hanging out in a group of 6 people, everyone would just stop talking if I was writing, giving me the chance to have my say. It was pretty touching. I also heard this joke about six times: "It's funny they call it a handicap, since it makes me like you more".

The impact was even more extensive. Sifu Prince mentioned that around me he felt the urge to not speak as well, which I found with a few more people. Others noted how they felt much more inclined to open up to a person who didn't say anything, since I was completely involved in the act of listening. I got a lot of confessions/revelations from unexpected sources.

I could see it inspiring people as well. My roommate was silent for a night to encourage me to extend my vow beyond a day and I answered many, many questions about learning how to truly listen and empathize, as well as the value of communication. I broke my silence (by saying "facetious is my favourite word") right before playing a set Sunday night, and so many people had heard and were talking about it that the simple line, without context, caused about half the crowd to applaud. 

I don't think I truly captured how sublime talking felt last night. It was a sheer joy just to have a conversation, feeling language and form rippling across my tongue. Even though I've rediscovered the joy of speech, I think it'll be a good idea to talk a little less. The best lesson this week was that listening well is a full time activity.

regrowing the limb of language

This is one of the best feelings of my life.  Talking again has given words taste.  I can feel the variations in sound across my tongue.  The meaning hardly matters, just the experience of form.  Amazing. 

I'm going to bed, though.  The first thing I did after not talking for 6 days was to scream for 15 minutes, so now my throat hurts. 

up and in

I was enjoying myself until today.  I'm now pretty sick of it.  Really would like to start talking.    

One more day. 

blah interrupted, extended

I'm extending my muteness a little longer.  Playing a show on Sunday night, so I can't resist the ridiculous melodrama of ending the silence with a scream.  

Have slipped up twice so far.  I said 'yeah' to a question from my housemate and thanked some random guy for moving out my way.  Going to keep chugging along, though. 

I'm going to wait to write a full report, don't want to fully reflect until the exercise is done.  I did realize that if I did become mute, my chosen career would be closed to me.  That sucks. 

apparently the verb is 'to tweet'

This is interesting.  It'll probably be even more valuable if I extended it.  Guess I have to do that.  Midnight on Friday I'll break the silence.

Hope I don't say something stupid.

what is this, twitter?

I'm trying to limit writing things down somewhat.  Now I realize why charades is a game and not a way of life.

blah interrupted

I've discovered I talk to myself a lot.  Pretty much anytime I'm alone.  This mute day is going to be tougher than I thought.

people that age

I didn't blog last week.  For some reason I thought my last one was on Tuesday or something.   Whoops.  Here's my makeup, then.

I'm starting to see a shift in direction in the way I approach my training and life in general.  Even more so than usual I find myself endlessly fascinated by some little concept, taking it apart like a little kid with a watch.  Getting so pedantic has caused me to rediscover my forms, especially my weapons.  I'm redefining what is correct or perfect now, and am at the point where I can start to worry about which direction my spear blade is in when I'm spinning or stabbing.  It's a great feeling. 

I'm also beginning to learn the value of real puns.  Not the stupid jokes (which are awesome in their own way) but turns of language.  Words that are nouns and verbs are just getting cooler to me.  Look at my title and switch how 'age' functions.  That's what I think about. 

I'm just pushing this blog further into obscurity.

Tomorrow (well I guess today because it's past midnight) is mute today.  I'll reflect on the exciting adventures of saying even less than usual tomorrow. 

wide awake and off to the races, out of gas and lost in space

I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to discuss immunizations for going to China.  For some reason that makes this whole thing real.  It hit me that I'm leaving in 4 months, full time training for a whole year.  I've been dreaming about this since I was fifteen and now it's happening. 

In two months I'm also graduating, finishing off a four year process.  University has changed me so much it's hard to think about who I would be without it--just like with kung fu.  I'm excited for grad school, though it will be hard.  Plus when I get back from China I'll be immediately moving to a new city. 

There is this cliff at the end of April with a sign labelled "WARNING:  ADULTHOOD AHEAD!"

ohgodohgodohgodohgod  

I'm a little terrified of moving to a new country to train with shaolin monks and then entering the world of serious academia, but starting something new has never been so exciting.  These new chapters are what really shape people, I'm interested to see what sort of person I become over the course of the next few years. 

The thought of getting a mortgage still makes me break out into a cold sweat. 

left foot in, left foot out

A friend mentioned 'Come On Eileen' offandedly today and now it's running through my head.  I'm listening to it right now.  I know everyone rags on the eighties, but when you consider this song, the Transformers cartoon, Black Flag and giant cell phones it doesn't seem that bad.  

I was talking with a friend on the weekend (we were at a poetry reading, being super cool) and she asked me a very interesting question.

She said that since I'm the intellectual type (considering my foot spends most of the time in my mouth I'm sometimes surprised at this reputation), why do I spend so much time with kung fu, which she saw as a mostly physical activity.  She could see me trying to keep fit, but didn't get why I was so passionate about it.

You all know that the martial arts have a hefty mental side to it, in the changes it promotes and the intense discipline/meditative states that are necessary.  There's also a real satisfaction in figuring out how to do a technique properly, sort of like finishing a crossword puzzle.  But there's another reason.

Like many of us, I started because of old hong kong action movies.  Enter the Dragon was the tipping point, but I mostly grew up watching Jackie Chan.  I wanted to be able to move like him, simple as that.  Of course, you begin at the beginning, but it was so much fun and rewarding I quickly found a thousand other reasons to stay.   That desire stayed in the back of mind, only surfacing years later.  

I've always been pretty clumsy, I've gotten better but still am constantly tripping over things.  So all the fancy techniques never came easy--usually I felt really awkward.  When I was a green or blue belt, around 15, I practiced the flying spinning outside inside cyclone kick obsessively.  One day I got it, which always happens eventually.  For the first time I felt a little like Jackie Chan moved.  I was invincible.  That feeling has stuck with me today, and still remains one of my fondest memories: the sheer joy of the process.  

There's no end product in kung fu besides myself.  And that feeling of perfecting a technique for the sake of the technique alone, improving skill because it makes me a better person, is a lesson I try to apply to every part of my life.   That's what it's all about.