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.