The holidays are a difficult season to get training in, so this is a post not so much about amazing dedication as about squeezing a few drops out of what moments we have. In the two weeks, we've had a nearly constant stream of visitors from afar visiting us, one coming in essentially on the day that the last are leaving, and entertaining, maintaining a semblance of a working life, and all of the holiday hustle and bustle have combined nicely to make it seem like every moment that could be set aside for training is filled with something else. I even have some kindly shared notes on ideas for training when time is severely limited, and blocks of time to get through those exercises are as rare as blocks of time for proper training.
What have I done? To avoid being "weird" in front of company, almost every time I turn a corner to go into the other room, there is some form of a stepping drill or small changing drill applied with my hands and arms, and more importantly with my mind. Stepping is a particular favorite, in fact, at the moment. Every time I get the chance, I practice some form of exercise, particularly ones to build and maintain flexibility and strength, for whatever small number of minutes is provided to me. Every night as I go to sleep, I vividly envision practicing techniques in as as varied a way as I can imagine and try to create a real, tactile sensation of those practices and how they would feel "in action." It's been a two-week period of stealing minutes and seconds and making of them what I've been able to.
While I had hoped my brother coming into town for the holidays would provide an increase in my access to a training partner, as it has in the past, it starkly has not this time around. He spread himself, in my opinion, too thin socially, and so the amount of "company" around us when with him is even higher, when he's even around. I don't go out, and he goes out almost daily, so that didn't work out the way I had hoped. As I've said before... one of these days.
Today was nice. I was able to steal a block of time long enough to work up a good sweat with some basic drills, a few hundred strikes, and almost fifteen solid minutes (!!!) on the circle. I'm looking forward to getting back to my long-turning days, though I don't know when they'll be. I'm stealing minutes not just for training, as I said, but also for work, which is in a vastly more intense phase right now than before. Since I think it may be the case now, I think I've just found a couple more minutes to steal, so a few intensely intent-filled runs through some forms is apropos. Hopefully everyone else's holidays have been good to them in terms of the usual meaning as well as finding chances to find training!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Rising Yang
Yesterday was the winter solstice, the most yin day of the year. That means today is the day when yang begins to arise again. Our small group just got together and did some decent training to celebrate... well, actually because it's Monday, the day we usually get together to train. Rising yang or not, it was cold, which was in some ways nice and in others not so nice.
Here in the nearly deep South, we don't see many days a year that are below freezing, even for the low temperature. Tonight, however, it was quite a bit below freezing. Actually, it was 23 F while we were training in our little outdoor pavilion, enjoying the sight of the mighty warrior Orion in the (roughly) Southern sky while we stood and practiced. I would love to believe that I felt the rising yang energy of the world while I was turning there (with four shirts on), but I didn't. It was cold. Still, we put forth a decent effort in the pillars and had an all-around good night, though not as physically demanding a workout as we pulled together on Saturday afternoon, when it was quite a bit warmer (I was wearing one shirt... with short sleeves) and wetter. The weather here is good for teaching us about changes like that: warm and wet on Saturday, bitter and frozen on Monday. Still, there was training.
As much as I'm enjoying learning about my tolerance and ability to adapt to the wintry weather, I must say that today's promise of another cycle of the year, yang rising more to my liking, is welcomed. Working up the will to train hard this time of year is more of a challenge, and my work requirements increase while the available daylight decreases. As spring blooms and invigorating warmth returns, workouts become more accessible, frequently more thorough and demanding, and much sweatier. Still, there are two or three hard months of winter training ahead, and due to seasonal inertia, the coldest is most likely yet to come. On the other hand, just the thought that today had a few more seconds of daylight than yesterday is already warming me up.
Perhaps, if I think about it long enough, I can find the deep connection between the lessons of the solstices and the changes of the year and the changes that form the foundation of baguazhang. I don't believe contemplation alone is going to be sufficient, though. Getting out in the weather, cold and usually wet now and, at another time, hot and desperately humid and training those changes, one strike to the next, one step before the other, each tiny aspect of gradual transformation, will teach me more properly. I call to everyone training in this art and everyone that wants to learn from its lessons, then, to get outside in whatever you're presented with and embrace the change and see what it can teach you. Then, on days like today, come in and enjoy a nice cup of hot cocoa when you're done!
Here in the nearly deep South, we don't see many days a year that are below freezing, even for the low temperature. Tonight, however, it was quite a bit below freezing. Actually, it was 23 F while we were training in our little outdoor pavilion, enjoying the sight of the mighty warrior Orion in the (roughly) Southern sky while we stood and practiced. I would love to believe that I felt the rising yang energy of the world while I was turning there (with four shirts on), but I didn't. It was cold. Still, we put forth a decent effort in the pillars and had an all-around good night, though not as physically demanding a workout as we pulled together on Saturday afternoon, when it was quite a bit warmer (I was wearing one shirt... with short sleeves) and wetter. The weather here is good for teaching us about changes like that: warm and wet on Saturday, bitter and frozen on Monday. Still, there was training.
As much as I'm enjoying learning about my tolerance and ability to adapt to the wintry weather, I must say that today's promise of another cycle of the year, yang rising more to my liking, is welcomed. Working up the will to train hard this time of year is more of a challenge, and my work requirements increase while the available daylight decreases. As spring blooms and invigorating warmth returns, workouts become more accessible, frequently more thorough and demanding, and much sweatier. Still, there are two or three hard months of winter training ahead, and due to seasonal inertia, the coldest is most likely yet to come. On the other hand, just the thought that today had a few more seconds of daylight than yesterday is already warming me up.
Perhaps, if I think about it long enough, I can find the deep connection between the lessons of the solstices and the changes of the year and the changes that form the foundation of baguazhang. I don't believe contemplation alone is going to be sufficient, though. Getting out in the weather, cold and usually wet now and, at another time, hot and desperately humid and training those changes, one strike to the next, one step before the other, each tiny aspect of gradual transformation, will teach me more properly. I call to everyone training in this art and everyone that wants to learn from its lessons, then, to get outside in whatever you're presented with and embrace the change and see what it can teach you. Then, on days like today, come in and enjoy a nice cup of hot cocoa when you're done!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Changes
Finally, after what has seemed like almost three months of stagnation, I feel like I'm moving forward. First, my advisor set a fire under my ass, and so my dissertation is coming along better. That's well and good for my life but bad for my training. Second, I'm most definitely getting stronger. My proxy saber and I are getting along at least 3-4 times a week, and particularly with my right hand, I'm noticing rather dramatic increases in my ability with the tool, although I'm still nothing to Carl "Hungus." Third, my back seems to be letting up somewhat. The "stuck" feeling has remitted tremendously in the past week and a half thanks to an odd combination of serendipity, yoga, and highly salubrious bagua exercises courtesy of my friend from across the Pond. I've been stretching on my own quite well, my wife wrangled the living crap out of me in a rather uncomfortable position that I thought was going to kill me or maybe break me but seemed to "turn the key in the lock," and then I suffered unbelievably at the edge of my abilities through a couple of the health-building exercises of Yin Style, which led directly to my back crunching around and eventually letting go! The "stuck" feeling has, for the moment, left me, although the musculature on my left side (primarily my iliacus, psoas, gluteus medius, multifidous, and serratus posterior inferior -- looking these up helped release some of their anger) is very knotted and fly-by-wire. Still... my training can now, finally, resume at the level that I had this summer, at least as long as I pretend that my advisor will still be happy if I choose that road. In theory, though, a quarter of a year later, I feel stronger, not weaker, and moving forward, not stuck.
The moral: do your exercises regularly and within your capacity, not pushing yourself too hard too fast, and anything is possible. Also, sometimes you have to burn through your injuries, not overprotect them. That balance is difficult to find.
The moral: do your exercises regularly and within your capacity, not pushing yourself too hard too fast, and anything is possible. Also, sometimes you have to burn through your injuries, not overprotect them. That balance is difficult to find.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Changes
So since admitting to myself a recipe for healing and following it rather determinedly, though not flawlessly, and since implementing even more information about dealing with the lumbar spine and hips, things have been coming along. I'm better than usual, although things are still different, still feeling "stuck," but they aren't holding my training back in any case -- not nearly as much as my dissertation and family-in-for-the-holidays are.
Training is changing too, mostly with the weather. In the past few weeks, we've trained together out in temperatures well below freezing, in sleet, in snow, in the frustration of people not able to meet up with us, and in the excitement of new folks joining our ranks. I'm convinced that training outside is an amazing thing for the body, as I used to loathe being outside this time of year, claiming that I was more of a warm-weather kind of person, but now I find it entirely bearable to endure being outdoors for long periods, if at least mostly properly dressed, and over short periods, I hardly notice that it's cold except in my fingers. A similar turnaround happened for me two summers ago when training outside every day all summer long -- despite loving warm weather, eventually it would be hot enough and humid enough for me to write off on being outside. That situation is no more. I think it's important to live this way too because it just feels all unnatural to remember how sensitive to heat and cold I used to be and how strongly I rejected those natural phenomena.
More specifically, within my training, I've decided I need to learn to root better. I'm moving fairly well, my agility and strength are increasing, my understanding and application of the techniques is seeming to get slowly better, and if I had to isolate a single aspect that is holding me back most in applying the techniques, I would have to guess that it is in my rather limited ability to root myself. When experimenting with strikes the other night with a partner, I noticed that he was able to apply a sudden pushing force to me that would cause me to step back several steps. When I'd repeat the experiment on him, he'd step back one or two, but so would I. I established clearly through that experiment that my root is still too high, or it's not set, or some other terminology that means that I can't root myself well. Since in VT this year I heard the admonition "get heavy" about 1100 times and since throughout my entire martial arts life (extending back well before baguazhang) I've had a problem with achieving proper and heavy base (as my BJJ friends have happily exploited for years), I think I've been in denial of the fact that I never properly developed this particular skill.
When I stand calmly, say before turning or standing practice or just during qigong or while trying to relax, I can palpably feel "sinking qi" flowing like a wave down my body, almost from head to feet and sometimes below. I think that's what I'm looking for, but I believe I need it in a more dynamic sense. When I turn, I can get and stay low, but I'm now thinking there is more to sinking the qi properly, particularly while turning, than just getting and staying low in my stance. When I strike, I sometimes feel fairly rooted, particularly during static striking, but when adding stepping, I only feel somewhat rooted. I think I should be rooting into my legs at the conclusion of every step, every strike, every shift of the weight, and indeed, every movement -- not staying permanently rooted but rather being able to deeply root in an instant, by choice or automatically through disciplined training.
The thing is... how do I get where I need to go? I may apply a technique I use when teaching that is perfectly obviously the way to solve essentially any problem. If I'm given instructions to
get somewhere specific, even if all I have is the name of that place and some details about its location, then my first step is to procure a map. In training, the map is laid out by the requirements and the methodologies of the art, so I have a map, even if it's rather incomplete. Secondly, I have to figure out both where I'm going (which I laid out above) as well as where I am (which I also discussed above). In my case, I believe I might need more details on both of those facets before continuing. Once that is all in hand, so to speak, it's merely a matter of using the map to chart a course (training regimen) that is designed to get me from where I am to where I want to go. To summarize the method: Consider a reasonable representation of the situation (Map); identify where you are/what you have (You Are Here); identify what/where you need to get/be (Goal); draw course (Plan); follow it (Follow-through). As it's always a good idea to seek difficulties and pitfalls ahead of time whenever possible, I'll take a moment to note the largest of them in this particular case. Here, a main difficulty is that many of the roads that exist are not on the map, and since they're not physical roads, I may or may not be able to see them, much less where they go, as I come near them. It is always a good idea to reflect at the end to decide if you're really done getting where you wanted to get and to consider whether or not the path you took was the best one, but I have to walk the road before I can do that.
Training is changing too, mostly with the weather. In the past few weeks, we've trained together out in temperatures well below freezing, in sleet, in snow, in the frustration of people not able to meet up with us, and in the excitement of new folks joining our ranks. I'm convinced that training outside is an amazing thing for the body, as I used to loathe being outside this time of year, claiming that I was more of a warm-weather kind of person, but now I find it entirely bearable to endure being outdoors for long periods, if at least mostly properly dressed, and over short periods, I hardly notice that it's cold except in my fingers. A similar turnaround happened for me two summers ago when training outside every day all summer long -- despite loving warm weather, eventually it would be hot enough and humid enough for me to write off on being outside. That situation is no more. I think it's important to live this way too because it just feels all unnatural to remember how sensitive to heat and cold I used to be and how strongly I rejected those natural phenomena.
More specifically, within my training, I've decided I need to learn to root better. I'm moving fairly well, my agility and strength are increasing, my understanding and application of the techniques is seeming to get slowly better, and if I had to isolate a single aspect that is holding me back most in applying the techniques, I would have to guess that it is in my rather limited ability to root myself. When experimenting with strikes the other night with a partner, I noticed that he was able to apply a sudden pushing force to me that would cause me to step back several steps. When I'd repeat the experiment on him, he'd step back one or two, but so would I. I established clearly through that experiment that my root is still too high, or it's not set, or some other terminology that means that I can't root myself well. Since in VT this year I heard the admonition "get heavy" about 1100 times and since throughout my entire martial arts life (extending back well before baguazhang) I've had a problem with achieving proper and heavy base (as my BJJ friends have happily exploited for years), I think I've been in denial of the fact that I never properly developed this particular skill.
When I stand calmly, say before turning or standing practice or just during qigong or while trying to relax, I can palpably feel "sinking qi" flowing like a wave down my body, almost from head to feet and sometimes below. I think that's what I'm looking for, but I believe I need it in a more dynamic sense. When I turn, I can get and stay low, but I'm now thinking there is more to sinking the qi properly, particularly while turning, than just getting and staying low in my stance. When I strike, I sometimes feel fairly rooted, particularly during static striking, but when adding stepping, I only feel somewhat rooted. I think I should be rooting into my legs at the conclusion of every step, every strike, every shift of the weight, and indeed, every movement -- not staying permanently rooted but rather being able to deeply root in an instant, by choice or automatically through disciplined training.
The thing is... how do I get where I need to go? I may apply a technique I use when teaching that is perfectly obviously the way to solve essentially any problem. If I'm given instructions to
get somewhere specific, even if all I have is the name of that place and some details about its location, then my first step is to procure a map. In training, the map is laid out by the requirements and the methodologies of the art, so I have a map, even if it's rather incomplete. Secondly, I have to figure out both where I'm going (which I laid out above) as well as where I am (which I also discussed above). In my case, I believe I might need more details on both of those facets before continuing. Once that is all in hand, so to speak, it's merely a matter of using the map to chart a course (training regimen) that is designed to get me from where I am to where I want to go. To summarize the method: Consider a reasonable representation of the situation (Map); identify where you are/what you have (You Are Here); identify what/where you need to get/be (Goal); draw course (Plan); follow it (Follow-through). As it's always a good idea to seek difficulties and pitfalls ahead of time whenever possible, I'll take a moment to note the largest of them in this particular case. Here, a main difficulty is that many of the roads that exist are not on the map, and since they're not physical roads, I may or may not be able to see them, much less where they go, as I come near them. It is always a good idea to reflect at the end to decide if you're really done getting where you wanted to get and to consider whether or not the path you took was the best one, but I have to walk the road before I can do that.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Admitting
As I've posted several times in the past, my lower back has been something of an issue in my training and life for as long as I've been practicing YSB, and actually even for longer. For all of this time, I had hoped that baguazhang would heal my lower back issue, finally freeing me from the grip it had on me. Partly from doing many of the basic exercises incorrectly, which I attributed the continuance of my discomfort to for a long time, my back pain neither abated nor got significantly worse over the almost two and a half years I've been training. Finally, I think I'm ready to admit that the practice of baguazhang directly will probably not heal my back, although once it is healed (through other means), it will almost definitely strengthen, protect, preserve, and improve it. Admitting it means that I can choose a sensible course of action and follow it, and, unfortunately enough, it will require that I set aside a fair amount of my preciously sparse training time (during the more intense end of the semester and my quest for doctorate) to do so.
There are exercises in bagua that I believe would (help) heal me, and those are definitely going to be included, but they are basic, basic exercises. For instance, I've seen an exercise from the Lion System (holding/rolling the ball), another from the Bear, one from the Snake, and one from the Phoenix System that all help, but doing basic strikes and forms, and even the standing postures, are of limited benefit and potential detriment if I overdo them. What this has meant, after hearing the description of what those exercises are traditionally used for (preparing unprepared bodies for practicing bagua properly), is admitting to myself that physiologically, I have not been prepared to properly study bagua all along, and most of bagua's practices are too physically demanding for my injured, weakened frame.
A fact that set this notion more firmly into my thinking was reading recently that many times in baguazhang or xingyi, a practitioner with a chronic health complaint, particularly hips, knees, back, or shoulder problems, would frequently be given the prescription of studying taijiquan or receiving massage and qigong therapy for a while before being permitted to work on anything but the most basic exercises of the art. This information served me by showing me that it was typical to need to prepare the body correctly before taking on something as demanding as one of these arts, and therefore that the basic exercises in the art might be too tough on the body to create healing in and of themselves in certain situations. That rang true with the fact that frequently, I feel about the same before and after practice in my low back and hips and feel exceptionally better everywhere else. It also left me with wondering what to do next.
Luckily, it seems, I watched my wife heal herself tremendously of a chronic sciatica issue using a version of yoga that actually has Taoist roots, like bagua. Combining that with yoga and sensible stretching practices, approaching them from an experiential, need-based perspective, gave me a practice that I really believed could help fix the root of the problem I suffer. I started it about a week ago, putting serious effort into this yoga/stretching regimen combined with some basic massage therapy on trouble spots (see an earlier post about trigger points), some basic standing, sitting, and prone qigong, and the small number of very basic bagua healing/developing practices (mentioned above), practicing them for 30-60 minutes a day when I usually have very little more time for practice or training available to me (I'll pay tonight for taking out this time to type this up, for instance). In six days, which is tiny compared with the almost eight years I've been suffering this way, I've seen more progress than I expected, though I am not, of course, healed. I hit the point recently that really told me I had to do something, and it's one of the measuring sticks I've been using: I can't jump. Jumping or even bouncing causes severe spasming or failing (it feels like mistrust) in my lower back -- immediately. I also cannot run or jog. That's disturbing because I'm still in my 20's, in good shape otherwise, and should definitely be able to participate in these kinds of activities as ones that build me, not break me. In six days, I've changed enough to where I can do some bouncing around (jumping jacks, for instance) again, I move and stand more freely, and I'm only about half as stiff when I get out of bed in the morning, though it's apparent that the problem still exists. I'm getting measurably better. As the problem has lasted for 8 years or more, I figure that in roughly 8 weeks or so, I will have seen a tremendous change, if I stick with it. If I stay with it to whatever degree is needed for 8 months, I'd be surprised to see anything other than a full recovery.
It's made me immediately aware, for instance, of the tension stored primarily in my lower abdominal muscles, hips, spinal erectors, and quadriceps muscles, tension that prevents me from developing properly in bagua and that keeps me in the prison of constant physical pain and limitation. It's also taught me the exceptionally useful lesson that the body and training must be practiced intelligently with inner sensitivity and that emotional and physical habits create powerful chains that bind us needlessly. It's also made me take responsibility for my condition, no longer wanting to rely on some chiropractor, osteopath, magician, or mysterious energetic miracle to heal me. Ignoring my tissues and mistreating them, be that via an injury or two that I sustained and never healed properly or via training on structure that wasn't ready to train on, have created and maintained this problem entirely at my own fault and decision.
Treating it before, at least for a year now, has centered on the idea that I needed to stretch, going into the tissues mentally and experientially as I did so to release the problems, and I even knew many of the stretches that would be required. Still, I refused to set aside time from my work or training to do it, and things have only gotten worse. Now, I'm ready to admit that this is part of my training, part of what I must do at my level, or else I'll never get to a very high level overall being always limited by this ceiling that I've put over myself. That gives me spirit enough to concentrate on these efforts without the guilt that might normally come from laying in some stretch on the floor instead of walking those extra few minutes around in a circle in my yard, particularly knowing that if I'm as right as I'm almost sure I am about this, I'll be able to more than make up for lost time once I'm whole again.
There are exercises in bagua that I believe would (help) heal me, and those are definitely going to be included, but they are basic, basic exercises. For instance, I've seen an exercise from the Lion System (holding/rolling the ball), another from the Bear, one from the Snake, and one from the Phoenix System that all help, but doing basic strikes and forms, and even the standing postures, are of limited benefit and potential detriment if I overdo them. What this has meant, after hearing the description of what those exercises are traditionally used for (preparing unprepared bodies for practicing bagua properly), is admitting to myself that physiologically, I have not been prepared to properly study bagua all along, and most of bagua's practices are too physically demanding for my injured, weakened frame.
A fact that set this notion more firmly into my thinking was reading recently that many times in baguazhang or xingyi, a practitioner with a chronic health complaint, particularly hips, knees, back, or shoulder problems, would frequently be given the prescription of studying taijiquan or receiving massage and qigong therapy for a while before being permitted to work on anything but the most basic exercises of the art. This information served me by showing me that it was typical to need to prepare the body correctly before taking on something as demanding as one of these arts, and therefore that the basic exercises in the art might be too tough on the body to create healing in and of themselves in certain situations. That rang true with the fact that frequently, I feel about the same before and after practice in my low back and hips and feel exceptionally better everywhere else. It also left me with wondering what to do next.
Luckily, it seems, I watched my wife heal herself tremendously of a chronic sciatica issue using a version of yoga that actually has Taoist roots, like bagua. Combining that with yoga and sensible stretching practices, approaching them from an experiential, need-based perspective, gave me a practice that I really believed could help fix the root of the problem I suffer. I started it about a week ago, putting serious effort into this yoga/stretching regimen combined with some basic massage therapy on trouble spots (see an earlier post about trigger points), some basic standing, sitting, and prone qigong, and the small number of very basic bagua healing/developing practices (mentioned above), practicing them for 30-60 minutes a day when I usually have very little more time for practice or training available to me (I'll pay tonight for taking out this time to type this up, for instance). In six days, which is tiny compared with the almost eight years I've been suffering this way, I've seen more progress than I expected, though I am not, of course, healed. I hit the point recently that really told me I had to do something, and it's one of the measuring sticks I've been using: I can't jump. Jumping or even bouncing causes severe spasming or failing (it feels like mistrust) in my lower back -- immediately. I also cannot run or jog. That's disturbing because I'm still in my 20's, in good shape otherwise, and should definitely be able to participate in these kinds of activities as ones that build me, not break me. In six days, I've changed enough to where I can do some bouncing around (jumping jacks, for instance) again, I move and stand more freely, and I'm only about half as stiff when I get out of bed in the morning, though it's apparent that the problem still exists. I'm getting measurably better. As the problem has lasted for 8 years or more, I figure that in roughly 8 weeks or so, I will have seen a tremendous change, if I stick with it. If I stay with it to whatever degree is needed for 8 months, I'd be surprised to see anything other than a full recovery.
It's made me immediately aware, for instance, of the tension stored primarily in my lower abdominal muscles, hips, spinal erectors, and quadriceps muscles, tension that prevents me from developing properly in bagua and that keeps me in the prison of constant physical pain and limitation. It's also taught me the exceptionally useful lesson that the body and training must be practiced intelligently with inner sensitivity and that emotional and physical habits create powerful chains that bind us needlessly. It's also made me take responsibility for my condition, no longer wanting to rely on some chiropractor, osteopath, magician, or mysterious energetic miracle to heal me. Ignoring my tissues and mistreating them, be that via an injury or two that I sustained and never healed properly or via training on structure that wasn't ready to train on, have created and maintained this problem entirely at my own fault and decision.
Treating it before, at least for a year now, has centered on the idea that I needed to stretch, going into the tissues mentally and experientially as I did so to release the problems, and I even knew many of the stretches that would be required. Still, I refused to set aside time from my work or training to do it, and things have only gotten worse. Now, I'm ready to admit that this is part of my training, part of what I must do at my level, or else I'll never get to a very high level overall being always limited by this ceiling that I've put over myself. That gives me spirit enough to concentrate on these efforts without the guilt that might normally come from laying in some stretch on the floor instead of walking those extra few minutes around in a circle in my yard, particularly knowing that if I'm as right as I'm almost sure I am about this, I'll be able to more than make up for lost time once I'm whole again.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Worldwide Readership and No Time to Post
I've been meaning and wanting to post for a while, but finishing (please, please let it be true) a Ph.D. sucks sometimes. My teaching (read: grading) load has been abnormally intense lately too, so it comes down, frequently enough, to get in 30-60 minutes of training or type on here for a few minutes. I think it's fairly obvious which I've been choosing and why. I wish I could include a sweet example of the kind of crap I spend my days doing, but it's apparently a bad idea to publicly display any of one's thesis before it's done. Besides, I'm not sure how to load up the sweet math text into this thing anyway without pulling some screen-shot business. I'm digressing.
My newest bit of research into the art has been going well and is very interesting, at least to me. The thing is, I don't know if it's a good idea to be doing or not, but as I seem to be deriving benefit from it and am keeping it in its proper context, I don't think it will do any harm. I've been studying the forms, actually just two of them in-depth, and running through them while turning for nearly my entire practice time (30-60 minutes, usually) other than a few minutes at the beginning when I do a little static posturing. I also, of course, have a background-noise level of studying the basic strikes, popping out a few and trying to use what little mind I have while I do them, maybe for a minute or two here or there while someone else needs to use this box, preventing me from typing for a bit. In any case, I'm digressing again, which is what makes my writing so much fun to read.
After I do the form, with power, a few times, I'm investigating the techniques in it, including many of the transition techniques, sometimes on more than one level (different stages in the transition) by freezing and holding them in isometric tension as a static posture. I force myself to connect with the ground in a stable manner and feel all of the places I'm supposed to be applying force along with trying to recreate the sensation of an opponent being there to receive and be affected by that force. I then hold the position for 3-5 breaths and move on, slowly. Each time something significant happens, I try to hold that position and feel it and increase my strength and awareness of my strength in those positions.
For example, in Lifting and Holding from the Sweeping Palm, the first technique is the opener, so I hold that with strength, trying to imagine clearly that particular use of what is, in essence, an opening sweeping/rising sweeping strike. The "second" technique doesn't occur, though, until a bunch of things happen in transition. First, the opening hand changes, pushing forward and threatening while lifting the opponent's arm. I pause there and try to feel all of that clearly. Then the foot opens and the other arm comes in, lifting with the elbow. I pause there too. Then I execute the remainder of the transition into the "second" technique, sometimes pausing yet again at the point where I could conceive of my leg making contact or my hand/forearm of the top arm reaching the opponent's face, neck, or shoulders. Wherever I pause, I spend time and effort to apply the appropriate strengths and to imagine feeling and visualizing the effects.
Remarkably, I think it's helping develop my usage and development of power in the forms, particularly in that it seems to be really enhancing my ability to find out what I'm not doing well enough or fully enough and refine it. Usually I'll repeat the slow business once or twice to each side before going back to practicing the form in its usual, much more mobile design, trying to keep attention on all that I had put attention on by being slow and deliberate.
So, now I feel better that I've said something on here again. Now I can go back, I guess, to typing up things I don't really like typing up so that eventually I don't have to type it up at all any more and can turn my nose back to training much more seriously!
My newest bit of research into the art has been going well and is very interesting, at least to me. The thing is, I don't know if it's a good idea to be doing or not, but as I seem to be deriving benefit from it and am keeping it in its proper context, I don't think it will do any harm. I've been studying the forms, actually just two of them in-depth, and running through them while turning for nearly my entire practice time (30-60 minutes, usually) other than a few minutes at the beginning when I do a little static posturing. I also, of course, have a background-noise level of studying the basic strikes, popping out a few and trying to use what little mind I have while I do them, maybe for a minute or two here or there while someone else needs to use this box, preventing me from typing for a bit. In any case, I'm digressing again, which is what makes my writing so much fun to read.
After I do the form, with power, a few times, I'm investigating the techniques in it, including many of the transition techniques, sometimes on more than one level (different stages in the transition) by freezing and holding them in isometric tension as a static posture. I force myself to connect with the ground in a stable manner and feel all of the places I'm supposed to be applying force along with trying to recreate the sensation of an opponent being there to receive and be affected by that force. I then hold the position for 3-5 breaths and move on, slowly. Each time something significant happens, I try to hold that position and feel it and increase my strength and awareness of my strength in those positions.
For example, in Lifting and Holding from the Sweeping Palm, the first technique is the opener, so I hold that with strength, trying to imagine clearly that particular use of what is, in essence, an opening sweeping/rising sweeping strike. The "second" technique doesn't occur, though, until a bunch of things happen in transition. First, the opening hand changes, pushing forward and threatening while lifting the opponent's arm. I pause there and try to feel all of that clearly. Then the foot opens and the other arm comes in, lifting with the elbow. I pause there too. Then I execute the remainder of the transition into the "second" technique, sometimes pausing yet again at the point where I could conceive of my leg making contact or my hand/forearm of the top arm reaching the opponent's face, neck, or shoulders. Wherever I pause, I spend time and effort to apply the appropriate strengths and to imagine feeling and visualizing the effects.
Remarkably, I think it's helping develop my usage and development of power in the forms, particularly in that it seems to be really enhancing my ability to find out what I'm not doing well enough or fully enough and refine it. Usually I'll repeat the slow business once or twice to each side before going back to practicing the form in its usual, much more mobile design, trying to keep attention on all that I had put attention on by being slow and deliberate.
So, now I feel better that I've said something on here again. Now I can go back, I guess, to typing up things I don't really like typing up so that eventually I don't have to type it up at all any more and can turn my nose back to training much more seriously!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Interesting Reaction
I was at the university yesterday and ended up in a chance encounter with a Chinese colleague in which the topics of learning Chinese and traveling to China came up. I admitted to him that I strongly want to visit China and that next April would probably be one of my best chances for a while unless I get into a different line of work entirely because I always have to teach without the opportunity to take a couple or three weeks off in April. He asked, of course, what university I wanted to travel to in which city in China with the recommendation that if I had a sufficient *mathematical* reason, I could probably get leave from the department to do it. I told him I wanted to go to Beijing, but that there was no university I intended to visit and no mathematical collaboration would be on the agenda. That made him ask what would make me want to go to China, then.
I told him that I train in baguazhang, and his reaction was surprising. He stopped, almost about to say something but cutting himself off, and stood there for a moment. Then he said, "baguazhang?!" and wrote the three Chinese characters for it on the chalkboard next to us. I nodded, indicating that was exactly what I had meant, and he paused again before adding two exclamation points (!!) after his characters and saying, "Ohh... that's good martial arts." Though not exactly the same, the flavor of the exchange was similar to how I think I would probably have reacted to find out that some dude I was chatting with happened to play previously in the NFL, being that I don't really give a crap about football but can really appreciate what that means. I was pretty surprised to see his reaction.
Incidentally, I just found out from work that my 2009 China hopes are not to come to fruition. I've been scheduled, with an approved teaching overload, to teach this coming spring as "my skills and experience shouldn't be wasted." Ah, well, at least I'm appreciated. In any case, there won't be taking two or more weeks off this spring.
I told him that I train in baguazhang, and his reaction was surprising. He stopped, almost about to say something but cutting himself off, and stood there for a moment. Then he said, "baguazhang?!" and wrote the three Chinese characters for it on the chalkboard next to us. I nodded, indicating that was exactly what I had meant, and he paused again before adding two exclamation points (!!) after his characters and saying, "Ohh... that's good martial arts." Though not exactly the same, the flavor of the exchange was similar to how I think I would probably have reacted to find out that some dude I was chatting with happened to play previously in the NFL, being that I don't really give a crap about football but can really appreciate what that means. I was pretty surprised to see his reaction.
Incidentally, I just found out from work that my 2009 China hopes are not to come to fruition. I've been scheduled, with an approved teaching overload, to teach this coming spring as "my skills and experience shouldn't be wasted." Ah, well, at least I'm appreciated. In any case, there won't be taking two or more weeks off this spring.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
One and a Quarter Pounds
Thanks to a friend of mine, who happened to call my proxy saber "cool," I now have a sweet 1.25-pound weight added to it, right behind the five pounds I had already placed there. I didn't do much with it but feel the extra weight yesterday, when I took it apart, smashed my finger somehow, and put it back together with the extra weight, because I had already done a decent saber-related workout and didn't feel like over-cooking it. Today, though, I went to feel it in a variety of drills, and I was pretty shocked. It was a LOT heavier....
The thing is that I don't know if it's too heavy now or not. It certainly felt too light with just five pounds on it, but not when I first put it together. With just five, at first, I was surprised about how close it seemed to the real thing, and that was almost immediately after getting back from working with a real thing. I was pretty sure it was too light from some fluke accident of hearing something along the lines of that the real dadao weighs close to eight pounds (or just over). In any case, I've developed with it a little since then, and I got to where I could move it around with the five pounds that were on it with some degree of grace, though certainly not ease, and even the grace was failing in several of the basic drills. The lack of grace, I'm starting to realize, has something to do with the distribution of weight being very different when all of the weight I've added is in one place (near the balance point of a saber proper) versus more spread out through the steel of the saber.
I can't tell with any certainty now, though, if the thing felt right before and I was getting better at using it, hence the difference I feel now is truly that my proxy is too heavy or if, instead, the thing was too light before and the difference I feel now is just the difference, be my proxy too light or too heavy (theoretically, by my remembering, it's still too light). When I went to worth with it this afternoon with the additional pound and a quarter, I was very surprised as to how much harder the drills seemed. I haven't really been counting too much, just going until my form totally sucks and then quitting, and since I worked out pretty hard with it yesterday, I don't know that it would have mattered much because I might have residual soreness from then that would make it so I could only do fewer today anyway.
In any case, it's incredible the difference that a pound and a quarter can make. I'm somewhat eager to find out the true weight of a saber to be absolutely sure of that, and if I'm still too light, I'll probably go straight to adjusting that and learning to swallow whatever bitter comes along with.
The thing is that I don't know if it's too heavy now or not. It certainly felt too light with just five pounds on it, but not when I first put it together. With just five, at first, I was surprised about how close it seemed to the real thing, and that was almost immediately after getting back from working with a real thing. I was pretty sure it was too light from some fluke accident of hearing something along the lines of that the real dadao weighs close to eight pounds (or just over). In any case, I've developed with it a little since then, and I got to where I could move it around with the five pounds that were on it with some degree of grace, though certainly not ease, and even the grace was failing in several of the basic drills. The lack of grace, I'm starting to realize, has something to do with the distribution of weight being very different when all of the weight I've added is in one place (near the balance point of a saber proper) versus more spread out through the steel of the saber.
I can't tell with any certainty now, though, if the thing felt right before and I was getting better at using it, hence the difference I feel now is truly that my proxy is too heavy or if, instead, the thing was too light before and the difference I feel now is just the difference, be my proxy too light or too heavy (theoretically, by my remembering, it's still too light). When I went to worth with it this afternoon with the additional pound and a quarter, I was very surprised as to how much harder the drills seemed. I haven't really been counting too much, just going until my form totally sucks and then quitting, and since I worked out pretty hard with it yesterday, I don't know that it would have mattered much because I might have residual soreness from then that would make it so I could only do fewer today anyway.
In any case, it's incredible the difference that a pound and a quarter can make. I'm somewhat eager to find out the true weight of a saber to be absolutely sure of that, and if I'm still too light, I'll probably go straight to adjusting that and learning to swallow whatever bitter comes along with.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Hammers, Hatchets, and Triggers
For the past two weeks, I've barely been able to train, which sucks. I noted that I was suffering from what started out seeming like a mild low-back-pain episode but which actually manifested as being just about the most long-lived one that I've had. It was never exceptionally severe as it has been in the past, but it never got much better either, which was frustrating and, obviously, uncomfortable and limiting. I'm *mostly* better now, 18 days after the day when it all went to pieces, though long-period turning sessions (more than 20 minutes at a time), most vigorous static posture practice, and many of the strikes are still right out of my ability set -- stuff starts cramping. It's strange, sad, and motivating. I want to train. I want to live without this for the first time in about a decade. I'm going to have to fix it.
The other night I was looking into the matter further, reading up on it via a slough of articles hunted down off of the internet with no real way to know for sure what was accurate and what wasn't among what I studied, and I found a bizarre article that talked a lot about trigger points in the sacroiliac region. I thought there might be something to it after seeing where this guy got his ideas and how he's used them. I poked around in my psoas muscles, which I'd already been stretching intensely from as soon as I was able to get into the positions, and instead of feeling what I expected (muscles, most likely tight ones), I felt what the author was talking about: trigger points, dozens of them. Probably scores, actually, were in there. It felt quite a bit like a sack of pellets stuffed very tightly, in fact. Immediately, I climbed in bed and started working them out even though it was far later than I usually like to stay up now, but I fell asleep after an hour and a half or so in my right side and had barely touched my left. I woke up the next morning and went directly back to it, working a little in my left but almost entirely in my right, again going for more than an hour, and when I went to stand, I felt several times better than I had all along in the preceding weeks, even after chiropractic. My psoas muscles also felt remarkably different. In the days since, I've worked more into those (the article said it might take two weeks to two months to work all of them out of the pelvis, depending on how bad it is in there) and made significant progress. I've also explored around and found trigger points in the other hip muscles, lower abdominals, and some into the low-back region, though it's HARD to reach and work on. My hands are quite sore, having dug deeply into my flesh to push out knots of tension for about 5-6 hours in the last three and a half days, but I'm feeling almost better than I usually do (generally better than usual, though there's still a stiff spot that isn't usually there). That keeps me going; well, that and the idea that my hands are going to be very, very strong from this. I think that this combined with stretching and a little chiropractic will actually heal me as opposed to just keeping me at a barely acceptable status quo (which is where mediocre attempts at stretching and some chiropractic was keeping me).
Interesting little things come up, like sudden releases of a tiny knot, no bigger than a grain of rice, followed by an intense sensation like hot water flooding down and spreading out through the inside of my leg. That comes up a lot. Relief usually follows. I'm having very bizarre dreams, which the author suggested might come up since his belief is that trigger points are primarily "stored-up fear-based emotions." When you release the point, apparently, the emotion starts working its way out. Hence, I rub into these painful little areas with a mantra of "am I willing to let this go?" Sometimes it seems to help. Sometimes it doesn't do much. Maybe that's my subconscious answering yes and no, respectively. Maybe it has nothing to do with it. I like it, though, so I'm keeping it up. As a weird side-effect, I'm in a wholly better mood than I have been in over the last four to five years (length of Ph.D. program?).
In any event, Sunday, the first day I was feeling much, much better, running around with a bit of a gleam in my eyes, I went to the store to get some duct tape to finish off my Proxy Saber, v. 2, which is superior in nearly every way to the original by following Ket's design. While there, since I have some yard work to do that requires a hatchet that I don't own yet, I went to look at the hatchets. Some I liked but wasn't willing to pay so much for, and some I didn't despite their bargain price. Eventually I was holding one, feeling its weight and balance, trying to decide if the price for it was right when all of a sudden three teenagers dressed in a vaguely counter-culture way came into the aisle. One was smaller, maybe 115 pounds, and a young man. One was bigger and clearly not as sharp or at least less of a leader but probably no older, maybe 15 or so. The third was a girl that was running around with them, skinny and frail looking with a falsely tough exterior. The smaller guy stood a few feet from me and picked up a eight- or ten-ounce ball hammer off the rack and eyed it for a minute, bouncing it a little in his hand to get used to the weight. Then he turned to me and said the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, particularly seeing as I was still holding the hatchet and bigger than him by at least 50-60 pounds and almost a foot of height: "Hey mister, have you ever been hit in the head with a ball-peen hammer, and would you like to experience it?"
I would love to know what the kid was thinking when he said that. I'm guessing that he was trying to be funny, which he, of course, failed at. I turned to face him, still holding the hatchet, and grinned at him, almost looking excited, and said, "you wanna go?"
He looked like he was going to soil his pants in response and then tried to play it off all nonchalantly: "Nah, man, I was just kidding around." I put the hatchet back on the rack as he put the hammer away. Then I looked back at him and asked him if he was sure, now that I didn't have an ax. He told me he was just kidding again, his friends laughing like I was the stupid one and missing some hilarious joke, and used a tone that indicated the same. I went to pay for my tape, and though they were laughing, they made a rather quick exit from the store.
Weird story, huh? Good thing I didn't have to break it down on some kids. I'm not entirely sure of the legality of that kind of situation, seeing as they were minors but that they, I think, technically threatened me with a weapon. I guess it's an equally good thing that the kid didn't find out my opinion about feeling a hammer in a more direct way, asking me after he tested it out. The moral, I think: kids these days are punks, i.e. I'm getting old.
The other night I was looking into the matter further, reading up on it via a slough of articles hunted down off of the internet with no real way to know for sure what was accurate and what wasn't among what I studied, and I found a bizarre article that talked a lot about trigger points in the sacroiliac region. I thought there might be something to it after seeing where this guy got his ideas and how he's used them. I poked around in my psoas muscles, which I'd already been stretching intensely from as soon as I was able to get into the positions, and instead of feeling what I expected (muscles, most likely tight ones), I felt what the author was talking about: trigger points, dozens of them. Probably scores, actually, were in there. It felt quite a bit like a sack of pellets stuffed very tightly, in fact. Immediately, I climbed in bed and started working them out even though it was far later than I usually like to stay up now, but I fell asleep after an hour and a half or so in my right side and had barely touched my left. I woke up the next morning and went directly back to it, working a little in my left but almost entirely in my right, again going for more than an hour, and when I went to stand, I felt several times better than I had all along in the preceding weeks, even after chiropractic. My psoas muscles also felt remarkably different. In the days since, I've worked more into those (the article said it might take two weeks to two months to work all of them out of the pelvis, depending on how bad it is in there) and made significant progress. I've also explored around and found trigger points in the other hip muscles, lower abdominals, and some into the low-back region, though it's HARD to reach and work on. My hands are quite sore, having dug deeply into my flesh to push out knots of tension for about 5-6 hours in the last three and a half days, but I'm feeling almost better than I usually do (generally better than usual, though there's still a stiff spot that isn't usually there). That keeps me going; well, that and the idea that my hands are going to be very, very strong from this. I think that this combined with stretching and a little chiropractic will actually heal me as opposed to just keeping me at a barely acceptable status quo (which is where mediocre attempts at stretching and some chiropractic was keeping me).
Interesting little things come up, like sudden releases of a tiny knot, no bigger than a grain of rice, followed by an intense sensation like hot water flooding down and spreading out through the inside of my leg. That comes up a lot. Relief usually follows. I'm having very bizarre dreams, which the author suggested might come up since his belief is that trigger points are primarily "stored-up fear-based emotions." When you release the point, apparently, the emotion starts working its way out. Hence, I rub into these painful little areas with a mantra of "am I willing to let this go?" Sometimes it seems to help. Sometimes it doesn't do much. Maybe that's my subconscious answering yes and no, respectively. Maybe it has nothing to do with it. I like it, though, so I'm keeping it up. As a weird side-effect, I'm in a wholly better mood than I have been in over the last four to five years (length of Ph.D. program?).
In any event, Sunday, the first day I was feeling much, much better, running around with a bit of a gleam in my eyes, I went to the store to get some duct tape to finish off my Proxy Saber, v. 2, which is superior in nearly every way to the original by following Ket's design. While there, since I have some yard work to do that requires a hatchet that I don't own yet, I went to look at the hatchets. Some I liked but wasn't willing to pay so much for, and some I didn't despite their bargain price. Eventually I was holding one, feeling its weight and balance, trying to decide if the price for it was right when all of a sudden three teenagers dressed in a vaguely counter-culture way came into the aisle. One was smaller, maybe 115 pounds, and a young man. One was bigger and clearly not as sharp or at least less of a leader but probably no older, maybe 15 or so. The third was a girl that was running around with them, skinny and frail looking with a falsely tough exterior. The smaller guy stood a few feet from me and picked up a eight- or ten-ounce ball hammer off the rack and eyed it for a minute, bouncing it a little in his hand to get used to the weight. Then he turned to me and said the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, particularly seeing as I was still holding the hatchet and bigger than him by at least 50-60 pounds and almost a foot of height: "Hey mister, have you ever been hit in the head with a ball-peen hammer, and would you like to experience it?"
I would love to know what the kid was thinking when he said that. I'm guessing that he was trying to be funny, which he, of course, failed at. I turned to face him, still holding the hatchet, and grinned at him, almost looking excited, and said, "you wanna go?"
He looked like he was going to soil his pants in response and then tried to play it off all nonchalantly: "Nah, man, I was just kidding around." I put the hatchet back on the rack as he put the hammer away. Then I looked back at him and asked him if he was sure, now that I didn't have an ax. He told me he was just kidding again, his friends laughing like I was the stupid one and missing some hilarious joke, and used a tone that indicated the same. I went to pay for my tape, and though they were laughing, they made a rather quick exit from the store.
Weird story, huh? Good thing I didn't have to break it down on some kids. I'm not entirely sure of the legality of that kind of situation, seeing as they were minors but that they, I think, technically threatened me with a weapon. I guess it's an equally good thing that the kid didn't find out my opinion about feeling a hammer in a more direct way, asking me after he tested it out. The moral, I think: kids these days are punks, i.e. I'm getting old.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Don't Know Chinese
I keep getting all excited about the fact that I knew the Holding and Lifting forms are called "ping tua," as well as I could tell. My ability to hear Pinyin, though is about a 6/100. It's ping tuo, apparently. Ping means "to make level or even" and tuo means "to support with the palm or hand." Even if my Chinese isn't rocking, I am, at least getting better with the forms, I think. Fortunately or unfortunately (for who can say which), I think the English name is more clear in giving a methodological approach to the theory of the forms than the Chinese, but that may be because I don't really know clearly all the levels of meaning of the words. Hopefully the English name isn't misleading me, getting me to add to the form things that aren't there.
Since my back has been hurting, 90% or more of my training for the last week and a half has been done laying on my back in visualization. That's given me a lot of time to imagine going through the ping tuo forms on someone, and I'm really glad I took the time to do that instead of adopting an "I'm hurt" defeatist attitude. While I didn't get better at actually doing the form, I did get a pretty firm appreciation for how some of the techniques work and how some of the subtleties play an important role in making them work, and I was excited to play with those a little tonight at our (very small) get together, one in which I was mobile enough to do more than act the consultant. It was pretty interesting, to say the least, and I was sort of surprised by how clearly and quickly the techniques came to life for me after repeatedly doing them mentally for over a week. I particularly feel more confident in the "give them something to think about" technology.
One of the more interesting changes I've experienced since coming from Vermont really came to a point during this time too. I'm much better, I feel, at picking out subtle details and nuances of movement and usage from the videos than I was before this trip. It's absolutely amazing what a good teacher can bring out and change for a person in even a short period of time with just a little of hardly deserved attention. It underscored a lesson I've heard and even started to notice more clearly in my classroom teaching (math) job: if you attempt teach something to someone before they're ready to learn it, then they won't learn it (well?). So many things that I heard a year ago or more are suddenly more reasonable and accessible, in fact almost obvious in some cases, after seeing these things again with a new set of goggles on, so to speak. They were, of course, completely obscured to me before the change. It gets me very excited about what further changing and developing is available.
The update on my back is that it's *mostly* better. I spent a long day in a chair on Saturday and some time since then as well, and that's keeping it from being back to normal, which still isn't awesome. In any case, I've gotten to this point without the aid of a chiropractor or other manipulator. That is somewhat encouraging. Since I have an appointment for adjustment on Wednesday of this week, I'm optimistic about the outcome, and I'm furthermore absolutely enthusiastic about doing what it takes to reclaim my back from the degeneration it's suffered at years of what I've determined is goofed-up posture, probably since the accident that broke me as a teenager.
I'm going to try my hand at turning again tomorrow. I would have tonight, but such was the nature of my work day and our meeting together that it wasn't on the agenda. It seems weird to have gone this long without turning, and it hasn't been this long since the last time my back hosed me. I think I'll have to be careful not to overdo it, though. We'll see how I feel, I guess. Before that, I'm going to stand. Tonight. For the first time in what seems like ages!
Since my back has been hurting, 90% or more of my training for the last week and a half has been done laying on my back in visualization. That's given me a lot of time to imagine going through the ping tuo forms on someone, and I'm really glad I took the time to do that instead of adopting an "I'm hurt" defeatist attitude. While I didn't get better at actually doing the form, I did get a pretty firm appreciation for how some of the techniques work and how some of the subtleties play an important role in making them work, and I was excited to play with those a little tonight at our (very small) get together, one in which I was mobile enough to do more than act the consultant. It was pretty interesting, to say the least, and I was sort of surprised by how clearly and quickly the techniques came to life for me after repeatedly doing them mentally for over a week. I particularly feel more confident in the "give them something to think about" technology.
One of the more interesting changes I've experienced since coming from Vermont really came to a point during this time too. I'm much better, I feel, at picking out subtle details and nuances of movement and usage from the videos than I was before this trip. It's absolutely amazing what a good teacher can bring out and change for a person in even a short period of time with just a little of hardly deserved attention. It underscored a lesson I've heard and even started to notice more clearly in my classroom teaching (math) job: if you attempt teach something to someone before they're ready to learn it, then they won't learn it (well?). So many things that I heard a year ago or more are suddenly more reasonable and accessible, in fact almost obvious in some cases, after seeing these things again with a new set of goggles on, so to speak. They were, of course, completely obscured to me before the change. It gets me very excited about what further changing and developing is available.
The update on my back is that it's *mostly* better. I spent a long day in a chair on Saturday and some time since then as well, and that's keeping it from being back to normal, which still isn't awesome. In any case, I've gotten to this point without the aid of a chiropractor or other manipulator. That is somewhat encouraging. Since I have an appointment for adjustment on Wednesday of this week, I'm optimistic about the outcome, and I'm furthermore absolutely enthusiastic about doing what it takes to reclaim my back from the degeneration it's suffered at years of what I've determined is goofed-up posture, probably since the accident that broke me as a teenager.
I'm going to try my hand at turning again tomorrow. I would have tonight, but such was the nature of my work day and our meeting together that it wasn't on the agenda. It seems weird to have gone this long without turning, and it hasn't been this long since the last time my back hosed me. I think I'll have to be careful not to overdo it, though. We'll see how I feel, I guess. Before that, I'm going to stand. Tonight. For the first time in what seems like ages!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Spinadees
The direction I've chosen seems to be a pretty good one, and after reviewing the ping tua forms in the sweeping, cutting, chopping, and hooking palms, I'm starting to see much more clearly some of the ideas in the sweeping form that Matt was attempting to elucidate for us. My sweeping strikes seem to be getting better too, though that general feeling of "heaviness" still is kind of weak. I'm not sure why I have such a hard time with it. I'm probably trying too hard. In any case, it's really strange how looking at those other palms on my own, which I cannot be 100% sure on whether I'm doing them entirely correctly or not, particularly with the stepping, gives better insight into the things that Matt was spelling out perfectly plainly for us a few weeks ago in Vermont. Weird... but good. Certain movements in each of the other forms have made it a lot more clear how valuable it can be to pay attention to these subtle details, and I'm glad I've undertaken the study and seen that.
Unfortunately for me, or fortunately as it may truly be the case, my ability in VT to participate was somewhat limited by the fact that I had hurt my back about a week earlier carrying some boxes. That put a slight limit on what I was and wasn't able to do, which sucked from where I stood because I would have been gladder to give a better showing. I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, but I could tell within a few hours on the first day that it wasn't going to not be a big deal. I just wish I hadn't put off the chiropractic I went to until the day before we left. Perhaps things would have been different. I still would have had to swallow a lot of bitter, but probably not so much as I did.
The title of this post is "spinadees," which is the silly and immature name my brother and I have given back pain after seeing a silly and immature internet cartoon talking about spikes coming out of a back as being "spinadees," spelling here is questionable but the one I've chosen to use for the purpose. Well, for whatever reason (probably desk-jockeying), this week my back went almost completely out after feeling almost completely recovered (as in my hips visibly weren't on straight: cocked to one side, twisted slightly, and tilted forward, with powerful muscle spasms to boot). Since this has happened quite a few times (it's come and gone since a jiu-jitsu incident about 7 years ago, though the actual triggering injury was almost definitely when I was in 9th or 10th grade (about 13 years ago)), and I was in a position to drop everything when it did, most of the damage was prevented, which is to say I was only mostly floor-bound (as opposed to totally) for 6-8 hours one evening until bed (instead of for 3-5 days) and painfully semi-mobile the next day. Today is the next day after that, and I'm about 70% mobile now and in relatively minimal, though constant pain, although "serious discomfort" is closer to the real sensation than "pain." It sucks for me, so far as I can tell, because I had just hit a real stride with my training, both in terms of what felt like positive gains and in terms of strong desire to put in extra time. Don't be misled, though: I'm almost positive what caused the back pain had nothing to do with the training (which I've never been sure of before) and a lot to do with 1) sudden progress at workin my research (which meant obscene amounts of time in desk chairs -- 13+ hours on Thursday alone), and 2) emotional factors (stress, frustration, irritation -- some from the sudden progress and much from the other aspects of my job, i.e. teaching, and quite a bit from my dealing with kids), which I think have more to do with pain than we like to admit here in the West.
In any case, I caught up a lot on my reading in the "down time" and realized a few elements that apply to general qigong training that should apply neatly as nuances to be used in standing practice. I look forward to feeling well enough to test that via hard training. I also spent a lot more time getting into my body through stretching and deep breathing, trying to get into touch with those emotions and tensions that were causing me the pain. I definitely need to put more attention into those two aspects of my training: breathing and stretching, as well as paying attention to subtle forces and changes within my body, even though those don't manifest plainly as being part of the martial art. I was also free to do a lot of contemplation, which was nice for trying to understand the forms. I spent a lot of time envisioning myself using the movements from the ping tua forms on people, much to my amusement and surprise, surprise at how clearly in some cases I could "feel" what would make the move succeed.
I'm really hoping that tomorrow will prove a better day than even today for my back and hips, and if it is, then I'm completely stoked about meeting up with the group and playing with some of these ideas.
Unfortunately for me, or fortunately as it may truly be the case, my ability in VT to participate was somewhat limited by the fact that I had hurt my back about a week earlier carrying some boxes. That put a slight limit on what I was and wasn't able to do, which sucked from where I stood because I would have been gladder to give a better showing. I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, but I could tell within a few hours on the first day that it wasn't going to not be a big deal. I just wish I hadn't put off the chiropractic I went to until the day before we left. Perhaps things would have been different. I still would have had to swallow a lot of bitter, but probably not so much as I did.
The title of this post is "spinadees," which is the silly and immature name my brother and I have given back pain after seeing a silly and immature internet cartoon talking about spikes coming out of a back as being "spinadees," spelling here is questionable but the one I've chosen to use for the purpose. Well, for whatever reason (probably desk-jockeying), this week my back went almost completely out after feeling almost completely recovered (as in my hips visibly weren't on straight: cocked to one side, twisted slightly, and tilted forward, with powerful muscle spasms to boot). Since this has happened quite a few times (it's come and gone since a jiu-jitsu incident about 7 years ago, though the actual triggering injury was almost definitely when I was in 9th or 10th grade (about 13 years ago)), and I was in a position to drop everything when it did, most of the damage was prevented, which is to say I was only mostly floor-bound (as opposed to totally) for 6-8 hours one evening until bed (instead of for 3-5 days) and painfully semi-mobile the next day. Today is the next day after that, and I'm about 70% mobile now and in relatively minimal, though constant pain, although "serious discomfort" is closer to the real sensation than "pain." It sucks for me, so far as I can tell, because I had just hit a real stride with my training, both in terms of what felt like positive gains and in terms of strong desire to put in extra time. Don't be misled, though: I'm almost positive what caused the back pain had nothing to do with the training (which I've never been sure of before) and a lot to do with 1) sudden progress at workin my research (which meant obscene amounts of time in desk chairs -- 13+ hours on Thursday alone), and 2) emotional factors (stress, frustration, irritation -- some from the sudden progress and much from the other aspects of my job, i.e. teaching, and quite a bit from my dealing with kids), which I think have more to do with pain than we like to admit here in the West.
In any case, I caught up a lot on my reading in the "down time" and realized a few elements that apply to general qigong training that should apply neatly as nuances to be used in standing practice. I look forward to feeling well enough to test that via hard training. I also spent a lot more time getting into my body through stretching and deep breathing, trying to get into touch with those emotions and tensions that were causing me the pain. I definitely need to put more attention into those two aspects of my training: breathing and stretching, as well as paying attention to subtle forces and changes within my body, even though those don't manifest plainly as being part of the martial art. I was also free to do a lot of contemplation, which was nice for trying to understand the forms. I spent a lot of time envisioning myself using the movements from the ping tua forms on people, much to my amusement and surprise, surprise at how clearly in some cases I could "feel" what would make the move succeed.
I'm really hoping that tomorrow will prove a better day than even today for my back and hips, and if it is, then I'm completely stoked about meeting up with the group and playing with some of these ideas.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
A Direction?
After meeting with the group last night to rehash what we learned in Vermont as well as to start to try to compile a direction for us to go forward in our training through the myriad paths of Yin Style Baguazhang, we may have settled some of the debate that I was having. A couple of assumptions underly this decision though.
This offers a bit of a compromise into how I could study the striking methods over the same time period as well (each also a "study in themselves"). Since we studied hard on the sweeping, cutting, and grasping methods, perhaps while we're trying to develop much better skillfulness with those particular forms, I should be working those striking methods diligently as well. That gives me two intersecting paths to follow, three times at least. I could use the rest of the "magic eight" to expand beyond that if time allowed, but I'm almost sure it won't. I think I will try to consider doing something like this, using one form as a basis (for example purposes, lifting and holding - sweeping, then going to the others:
I think I'm on to something. I just hope it's not crap.
- We need much more practice on what we worked on in Vermont (true).
- A new set of curriculum will be announced from Beijing in the spring (probably true).
This offers a bit of a compromise into how I could study the striking methods over the same time period as well (each also a "study in themselves"). Since we studied hard on the sweeping, cutting, and grasping methods, perhaps while we're trying to develop much better skillfulness with those particular forms, I should be working those striking methods diligently as well. That gives me two intersecting paths to follow, three times at least. I could use the rest of the "magic eight" to expand beyond that if time allowed, but I'm almost sure it won't. I think I will try to consider doing something like this, using one form as a basis (for example purposes, lifting and holding - sweeping, then going to the others:
- Study the lifting and holding forms, learning all eight of them, putting double emphasis (or more?) on the sweeping variety. That should give me practice with what we studied while being able to investigate its underlying theme from another set of perspectives (7 of them) as well. I should continue to practice the other two that we focused on, though more as a maintenance effort than a deep development effort (so as not to lose sight of or forget requirements, nuances, and details).
- Study the sweeping strikes concurrently, putting particular emphasis on the basics and those occurring in the lifting and holding form.
- Borrow stepping methods from the lifting and holding form and drill the movements from the forms as well as the basics using those stepping methods (in addition to others?).
- Incorporate standing in the sweeping palm posture (and the Dragon posture???) on a daily basis, in addition to whichever other postures suit my fancy on that particular day/week.
I think I'm on to something. I just hope it's not crap.
Monday, September 22, 2008
A Study in Itself
A few words that Matt Bild passed on to us in Vermont, almost as an aside, have really stuck with me and will probably shape my training for the next few months or years in a significant way. He said, simply enough, "the sweeping strikes are a study in themselves." When I heard it, I was pounding out sweeping strikes, trying to pay attention to four or six (or more) requirements I hadn't previously been aware of, trying to integrate them into my training, trying to understand their importance as well as develop the coordination required to modify that which I had done tens of thousands of times without those nuances (actually, they were bigger than nuances in a few cases). It wasn't until later that the significance of those words started to sink in and mesh with other ideas I've had, some that I've held pretty close to my chest up until now. I'm thankful my memory retained them despite the ferocity with which I was putting my body through the paces.
By extension, each of the striking methods in the Lion System as well as the other animal systems, which share a lot of techniques with each other since Yin Style Bagua is so well-knit, is also a study in itself, meaning that makes for at least sixty-four intense studies just on basic striking methods. I yearn to develop understanding of at least those in the Lion System in the coming year(s). There's more than that, though. Sixty-four interrelated studies would be easy compared with the complexity of baguazhang. There are also the themes of the individual animals and how they play a role, making for eight larger studies. There are also the forms, which appear again and again: interlocking, moving with the force, turning the back, lifting and holding (ping tua), windmill, lying step, reversing the body, and enfolding. In each system, seven of those attacking methods is addressed, and each of those methods must also be a study in itself. That's a lot of studying! Each form plays a different role slightly depending on which attacking method is being employed, but underneath the attacking methods is part of the theme of the form. Each form plays a different role within each animal system (I've deduced from what Matt said about moving with the force in the Lion System having a particular character that I didn't expect or realize), and yet within each is another part of the theme of that particular form. That's a LOT of studies unto themselves, many or all of which deserve and need attention in their due course if these methods are to be understood.
Honestly, as a quick aside, it reminds me of learning karate a long time ago. I realized at some point that you have to learn to use your upper body independently of your lower body so you could strike while moving and so that you could avoid telegraphing your techniques with your stepping. I also noted that your lower body had to be able to move independently of your upper body so that you could kick or move without giving away what was about to happen or so that you could keep your balance in awkward situations that might involve twisting, turning, kicking, fading away, jumping, or being pushed. Later, I realized that developing those independent skills was the very beginning, as long as it might take, because eventually the upper and lower body would have to work in harmony, using those individual skills as needed but more by applying their lessons to total-body movement and usage. It's like that in bagua but a thousand times more intricate.
One thing I had intended to start, probably shortly, is an in-depth study of the forms, using one attacking method at a time and studying each of the striking methods within that form. That would give, within the Lion System and its theme at least, eight perspectives on the idea of, for example, the moving with the force attacking method. I was excited and hoped to be able to investigate these things deeply enough to get through at most four of the methods in this manner over the next year. Then, I hoped, I'd have a better understanding of what those four attacking methods were about, and my bagua would benefit greatly from it. Now, I'm a bit confused as to what to approach because I never had thought clearly that the striking methods themselves are also each their own study! My head is filled with ideas, and I haven't invented a way to combine them yet.
For instance, I'd like very much to spend a few weeks or a month just working hard on the sweeping strikes to see what kind of lessons I can glean from training them in a dedicated manner. To do that, I've already realized, it is very helpful to learn all of the sweeping forms in the system because it gives eight perspectives on how to use them (the basics, characteristic of Lion, and the seven other animals-derived forms, characteristic of the Lion borrowing ideas from the other systems). That's contrary to my plan to study "moving with the force," e.g., purely for a month or two. I could blend the two endeavors, of course, studying all seven forms of a palm at the appropriate time along with focusing on those strikes and then the other seven forms of a particular attacking method, but that seems to be a lot more than life will afford me time to work on! I'm betting that concentrating on one or two things at a time is better than trying to do everything at the same time, so I'll probably hybridize but pick one road or the other to really drill. The basic striking methods seem more fundamental, so they probably should come first. Still, I was really excited about my study of the forms, so I'm torn.
For now, I'm caught in a quandary on which road to follow because I feel like they're a bit exclusive for someone with a non-bagua life to live as well. Thus, for the moment, I've only been reviewing that which we did in Vermont on a daily basis, though not nearly as hard as we did there (I'm quite thankful to be able to use things like my legs normally again too). I've also put the turning back on, but I've noticed that my (redneck-style improvised) saber drills are cutting deeply into my ability to rock out the Lion posture on the circle like I could two weeks ago.
This is one of the best parts of baguazhang. The study is too complicated and deep to ever get stagnant or boring. There is always and will always be so much to study and train.
By extension, each of the striking methods in the Lion System as well as the other animal systems, which share a lot of techniques with each other since Yin Style Bagua is so well-knit, is also a study in itself, meaning that makes for at least sixty-four intense studies just on basic striking methods. I yearn to develop understanding of at least those in the Lion System in the coming year(s). There's more than that, though. Sixty-four interrelated studies would be easy compared with the complexity of baguazhang. There are also the themes of the individual animals and how they play a role, making for eight larger studies. There are also the forms, which appear again and again: interlocking, moving with the force, turning the back, lifting and holding (ping tua), windmill, lying step, reversing the body, and enfolding. In each system, seven of those attacking methods is addressed, and each of those methods must also be a study in itself. That's a lot of studying! Each form plays a different role slightly depending on which attacking method is being employed, but underneath the attacking methods is part of the theme of the form. Each form plays a different role within each animal system (I've deduced from what Matt said about moving with the force in the Lion System having a particular character that I didn't expect or realize), and yet within each is another part of the theme of that particular form. That's a LOT of studies unto themselves, many or all of which deserve and need attention in their due course if these methods are to be understood.
Honestly, as a quick aside, it reminds me of learning karate a long time ago. I realized at some point that you have to learn to use your upper body independently of your lower body so you could strike while moving and so that you could avoid telegraphing your techniques with your stepping. I also noted that your lower body had to be able to move independently of your upper body so that you could kick or move without giving away what was about to happen or so that you could keep your balance in awkward situations that might involve twisting, turning, kicking, fading away, jumping, or being pushed. Later, I realized that developing those independent skills was the very beginning, as long as it might take, because eventually the upper and lower body would have to work in harmony, using those individual skills as needed but more by applying their lessons to total-body movement and usage. It's like that in bagua but a thousand times more intricate.
One thing I had intended to start, probably shortly, is an in-depth study of the forms, using one attacking method at a time and studying each of the striking methods within that form. That would give, within the Lion System and its theme at least, eight perspectives on the idea of, for example, the moving with the force attacking method. I was excited and hoped to be able to investigate these things deeply enough to get through at most four of the methods in this manner over the next year. Then, I hoped, I'd have a better understanding of what those four attacking methods were about, and my bagua would benefit greatly from it. Now, I'm a bit confused as to what to approach because I never had thought clearly that the striking methods themselves are also each their own study! My head is filled with ideas, and I haven't invented a way to combine them yet.
For instance, I'd like very much to spend a few weeks or a month just working hard on the sweeping strikes to see what kind of lessons I can glean from training them in a dedicated manner. To do that, I've already realized, it is very helpful to learn all of the sweeping forms in the system because it gives eight perspectives on how to use them (the basics, characteristic of Lion, and the seven other animals-derived forms, characteristic of the Lion borrowing ideas from the other systems). That's contrary to my plan to study "moving with the force," e.g., purely for a month or two. I could blend the two endeavors, of course, studying all seven forms of a palm at the appropriate time along with focusing on those strikes and then the other seven forms of a particular attacking method, but that seems to be a lot more than life will afford me time to work on! I'm betting that concentrating on one or two things at a time is better than trying to do everything at the same time, so I'll probably hybridize but pick one road or the other to really drill. The basic striking methods seem more fundamental, so they probably should come first. Still, I was really excited about my study of the forms, so I'm torn.
For now, I'm caught in a quandary on which road to follow because I feel like they're a bit exclusive for someone with a non-bagua life to live as well. Thus, for the moment, I've only been reviewing that which we did in Vermont on a daily basis, though not nearly as hard as we did there (I'm quite thankful to be able to use things like my legs normally again too). I've also put the turning back on, but I've noticed that my (redneck-style improvised) saber drills are cutting deeply into my ability to rock out the Lion posture on the circle like I could two weeks ago.
This is one of the best parts of baguazhang. The study is too complicated and deep to ever get stagnant or boring. There is always and will always be so much to study and train.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Off to an okay start
I wish I was off to a good start, but taking off all of Thursday through Sunday and half of Monday put me so far behind that I'm only just now coming up for breath. I've trained some since I've been home, but never in that hard, fierce way I prefer to. Yesterday, I worked the saber drills I learned with a broom and then holding 5 lb. medicine balls in my hands, and I worked them several times -- enough to be notably sore today. I even did them with my katana, which was okay for a couple of the drills and for looking kind of cool with the form, but it's too light and short. It's no comparison. It's not the same as a dadao. I need to get one.
I'm going to try to turn again here in a few minutes, but I don't know how long it will last. I was up past two last night grading and out of bed again at about 7:45 this morning to pick up the torch again. Grading sometimes takes forever and can be extremely draining. I'm almost physically itching to get back to my real training, but I'm not sure I'm going to be capable of much today. I'm even vaguely dizzy and sick feeling at the moment, and I know that taking a nap will last well into the night (and therefore be a bad idea!).
What I have worked on is increasing the precision in my stepping and coordinating my body to this new pattern. I worked so hard all last year adapting my stepping to the one I noticed was most common in doing many of the drills we practice, and in doing so, I made a mistake that now just seems plain foolish. I assumed it was the proper way to step doing baguazhang. Why should it be? Bagua wouldn't paint itself into a corner with only one way to step, but that's sort of what I've done, and changing it is hard. I'm having a particularly tough time remembering to swing my leg in on a cutting-in step, especially in the Lifting and Holding forms. I blatantly see its usefulness and importance, though. I'm going to trust to what they say: hold the requirements in your mind, try to meet them, practice a lot, and your body will catch up to your intentions. I already believe it since it's not a problem really in the Lying Step.
As I'm sitting here, I'm thinking of yet another post I want to make, but I'll wait until I play with the idea in my body a little more before saying anything. Let me just put it this way: what I discussed above and what I'm thinking about (and have made a note of due to my overfull, overtired head) really impress the idea that if a person is really interested in learning Yin Style Baguazhang, that person cannot be lazy: (s)he wouldn't have time! There's so much to learn, so much to train, so much to study... missing even a day without contemplating, experiencing, testing, feeling, and working it is an opportunity beyond recall!
I'm going to try to turn again here in a few minutes, but I don't know how long it will last. I was up past two last night grading and out of bed again at about 7:45 this morning to pick up the torch again. Grading sometimes takes forever and can be extremely draining. I'm almost physically itching to get back to my real training, but I'm not sure I'm going to be capable of much today. I'm even vaguely dizzy and sick feeling at the moment, and I know that taking a nap will last well into the night (and therefore be a bad idea!).
What I have worked on is increasing the precision in my stepping and coordinating my body to this new pattern. I worked so hard all last year adapting my stepping to the one I noticed was most common in doing many of the drills we practice, and in doing so, I made a mistake that now just seems plain foolish. I assumed it was the proper way to step doing baguazhang. Why should it be? Bagua wouldn't paint itself into a corner with only one way to step, but that's sort of what I've done, and changing it is hard. I'm having a particularly tough time remembering to swing my leg in on a cutting-in step, especially in the Lifting and Holding forms. I blatantly see its usefulness and importance, though. I'm going to trust to what they say: hold the requirements in your mind, try to meet them, practice a lot, and your body will catch up to your intentions. I already believe it since it's not a problem really in the Lying Step.
As I'm sitting here, I'm thinking of yet another post I want to make, but I'll wait until I play with the idea in my body a little more before saying anything. Let me just put it this way: what I discussed above and what I'm thinking about (and have made a note of due to my overfull, overtired head) really impress the idea that if a person is really interested in learning Yin Style Baguazhang, that person cannot be lazy: (s)he wouldn't have time! There's so much to learn, so much to train, so much to study... missing even a day without contemplating, experiencing, testing, feeling, and working it is an opportunity beyond recall!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Redefining Can't
After an outstanding workshop in VT led by Matt, I've come home with yet another moment in my life where Yin Style Baguazhang has absolutely obliterated my previous notions of the word "can't." It did so in many ways, but none so powerfully as my rather pitiful first experience with the dadao, the bagua big saber. I wanted it to be better, willed it even, but it pretty much only got worse. My spirit was willing, as they say, but my flesh failed (and some of it hurt probably more than it ever has before -- swelling up, bilaterally, as it did). It was sad really, and I feel a bit let down with myself -- though encouraged to change!
The saber, to be clear, is totally awesome, and I was totally unprepared for it. It absolutely laid me to waste and opened my eyes fully to the fact that I really need to work on developing fuller full-body strength and coordination -- two things my bagua practice is really dependent on and currently lacking sorely. It also opened my eyes to possibilities since everyone else there handled it vastly better than I did, a point which Matt made shockingly clear when I was already painfully aware of it. He was even nicer, I'd guess, than I probably deserved on it (meaning he didn't get vituperative with me), which I'm pretty glad for because I was feeling like a major sissy. It's most accurate to say he turned up the contrast for me just enough to drive the point fully home (for which I'm thankful). I know... strength comes over time, but my showing was pretty poor nonetheless. This experience, pitiful as it might sound, was in no way negative (except the bugs, maybe, which kind of sucked).
There are many technicalities (many on vectors) I've brought home and already started to integrate into my training (yes, I trained today, the day after a workshop ended, despite getting only about 5 hours sleep, getting up at 4:30 am, traveling about 1100 miles, and having worked all day to catch up on what I missed and cover my daily usual), but I think the most profound changes that occurred for me and my training are a change of horizons, a clearer understanding of the possibilities that lie in store if I (properly and intelligently) follow the age-old advice put out so many times so plainly by JB and everyone that has earned skill in this art: "if you want to get good, practice a lot." Well, that and a firmer grasp on how to put my mind into my training and a sincere excitement to do so.
I have only a huge thanks to offer to all you guys that were in VT this weekend, thanks and a promise to use what you all gave me (salubriously).
The saber, to be clear, is totally awesome, and I was totally unprepared for it. It absolutely laid me to waste and opened my eyes fully to the fact that I really need to work on developing fuller full-body strength and coordination -- two things my bagua practice is really dependent on and currently lacking sorely. It also opened my eyes to possibilities since everyone else there handled it vastly better than I did, a point which Matt made shockingly clear when I was already painfully aware of it. He was even nicer, I'd guess, than I probably deserved on it (meaning he didn't get vituperative with me), which I'm pretty glad for because I was feeling like a major sissy. It's most accurate to say he turned up the contrast for me just enough to drive the point fully home (for which I'm thankful). I know... strength comes over time, but my showing was pretty poor nonetheless. This experience, pitiful as it might sound, was in no way negative (except the bugs, maybe, which kind of sucked).
There are many technicalities (many on vectors) I've brought home and already started to integrate into my training (yes, I trained today, the day after a workshop ended, despite getting only about 5 hours sleep, getting up at 4:30 am, traveling about 1100 miles, and having worked all day to catch up on what I missed and cover my daily usual), but I think the most profound changes that occurred for me and my training are a change of horizons, a clearer understanding of the possibilities that lie in store if I (properly and intelligently) follow the age-old advice put out so many times so plainly by JB and everyone that has earned skill in this art: "if you want to get good, practice a lot." Well, that and a firmer grasp on how to put my mind into my training and a sincere excitement to do so.
I have only a huge thanks to offer to all you guys that were in VT this weekend, thanks and a promise to use what you all gave me (salubriously).
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Big Goals
I've been wanting to post for a few days now, but I haven't felt like I had anything worth posting about. I even wrote a couple of posts that didn't make it up. There was the day I turned for an hour just to remind myself that I could (it had been a while since I even cleared the 40-minute mark), there were thousands of strikes here or there, there were days of getting up early, or failing to get up early, of standing triumph, and of diminished training ability due to work and family obligations. There was even a fairly long post that I killed after typing it, retyping it, fixing it, and giving up on it discussing the nature of my bagua relationship with my brother and how sometimes I wish life put us in a place where we could train more seriously together again (and how I think it would do him good). After I finished turning today, though, I got an idea worth posting about.
The YSB workshop I'm attending this fall is literally days away. Due to my brother coming into town, my work requirements ramping up heavily, and an assortment of other minor duties to have to attend to, my training did the opposite except in the applications department. There was some turning, some standing, some of everything there is supposed to be, but not a lot of any of it. I felt guilty for slacking off, and it took a solid forty-five-plus on the circle today to give me my idea. It starts with the close of the seminar and subsequent return to "normalcy."
I realized that I respond well to big goals and poorly to small ones and even more poorly to a general absence of them at all -- meaning vaguely defined "wishes" instead of clearly delineated goals. When I say "big goals," I don't mean ones that are unreasonable or unattainable but rather ones with a rather long time requirement. One year, for instance, I committed myself to doing 50,000 pushups and twice as many crunches. I hated pushups by the end of the year, but I did them all as well as 30,000 the next year, which is pretty good considering the hatred I developed for them (sadly, this isn't the most extreme pushup goal that I've done... that was 10,000+ in 10 days, which went well enough (sucked but was met) but caused some problems -- this was not in either year mentioned above!). Anyway, I've decided to set forth some fairly large goals of that nature, though, for my Yin Style training unless information that comes out at the seminar this year directly contradicts my plan.
The time frame to accomplish these goals is "from the end of this seminar to the beginning of the (first) one I attend in Fall 2009 or roughly the same date if for some unforeseen reason that becomes an impossible stopping time."
I'm avoiding discussing other aspects of training because if I start attaching numbers to strikes or forms, I end up focusing more on the numbers than on the training. If that starts to happen with standing and turning (which are of a different nature, so I don't think that will occur), these goals will be bailed upon forthwith!
There is a small host of other things I'd like to see happen as well, for instance
I suppose I'll see how it goes. I don't want these not-directly-bagua goals to mess up my bagua training, though, so they will definitely take the backseat. I'll keep you posted. HA! Posted! I kill me.
The YSB workshop I'm attending this fall is literally days away. Due to my brother coming into town, my work requirements ramping up heavily, and an assortment of other minor duties to have to attend to, my training did the opposite except in the applications department. There was some turning, some standing, some of everything there is supposed to be, but not a lot of any of it. I felt guilty for slacking off, and it took a solid forty-five-plus on the circle today to give me my idea. It starts with the close of the seminar and subsequent return to "normalcy."
I realized that I respond well to big goals and poorly to small ones and even more poorly to a general absence of them at all -- meaning vaguely defined "wishes" instead of clearly delineated goals. When I say "big goals," I don't mean ones that are unreasonable or unattainable but rather ones with a rather long time requirement. One year, for instance, I committed myself to doing 50,000 pushups and twice as many crunches. I hated pushups by the end of the year, but I did them all as well as 30,000 the next year, which is pretty good considering the hatred I developed for them (sadly, this isn't the most extreme pushup goal that I've done... that was 10,000+ in 10 days, which went well enough (sucked but was met) but caused some problems -- this was not in either year mentioned above!). Anyway, I've decided to set forth some fairly large goals of that nature, though, for my Yin Style training unless information that comes out at the seminar this year directly contradicts my plan.
The time frame to accomplish these goals is "from the end of this seminar to the beginning of the (first) one I attend in Fall 2009 or roughly the same date if for some unforeseen reason that becomes an impossible stopping time."
- Turning for ~7200 minutes (120 hours, just under 20 minutes per day, on average).
- Standing for ~7200 minutes in strengthening postures.
I'm avoiding discussing other aspects of training because if I start attaching numbers to strikes or forms, I end up focusing more on the numbers than on the training. If that starts to happen with standing and turning (which are of a different nature, so I don't think that will occur), these goals will be bailed upon forthwith!
There is a small host of other things I'd like to see happen as well, for instance
- Turn for more than an hour (continuously) per day for at least 10 days or two weeks or some such.
- Turn for at least 3 hours continuously at least once, maintaining the requirements.
- Get and close the 300 lb. gripper (several times?).
- Fix my recurrent back issue (see next point).
- Get way more flexible and nimble (i.e. do some freaking yoga like I tell other people they should do because it's really beneficial and balancing against the two main facets of my life -- sitting in chairs and training hard physically).
- Seriously train the "plank" position (maybe aim for something like 500-1000 minutes in the position over the course of the year).
- Do way more seated meditation (20-30 minutes a day seems like a good baseline).
- Finish my G.D. Ph.D. and then never do math again (just kidding about the never part... I'll just need a vacation, I think, perhaps to China).
I suppose I'll see how it goes. I don't want these not-directly-bagua goals to mess up my bagua training, though, so they will definitely take the backseat. I'll keep you posted. HA! Posted! I kill me.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Goals
Goals are a lot easier to write down than to accomplish. Today I set out with a number of goals for my training, and I nearly accomplished them all, falling short, really, only in the turning department. The turning was to be the last department of the day, and I think the sun and sweat took something from me. Also, I ran out of time.
My agenda for the day included the following:
It also hearkened me back to my "how do they do it" post. All-in-all, my actual workout time, including stretching and all the not-bagua stuff and between-sets/strikes resting came up to a little over three hours and a half (30-ish standing, 90-ish striking, 20-ish with forms, 30-ish stretching, 15-ish with the grippers, 10-ish meditating, 15-ish turning). To read the forum is to see that this is a little more than a "typical daily workout" for many folks. I'm either a bit skeptical or a bit of a sissy.... The saying is that the proof is in the pudding, though the only thing I can think of when I think of pudding at the moment is how some parts of my thighs feel.
My agenda for the day included the following:
- Get up early: eh. I kind of did this one, rising on a Sunday morning that had no obligations at about 8:30 without any kind of assistance. It wasn't 6, but it was still pretty early (for me).
- Standing Practice: 30+ minutes of continuous static postures, spending some time in each of those from the Lion System, a minimum of 4 minutes to each side in the Lion representational posture. Success: 32.5 minutes of static postures, with 8:15 of that time in the Lion posture at the start, though I was sweating like I'm pretty sure I never have before (I did them after strikes, which worked up a mighty sweat). I dripped four small puddles. It was crazy.
- Basic Strikes: attention to all 24 Lion System basics, doing each palm continuously (i.e. not stopping between the three strikes in each palm, but taking a quick drink after each palm). Success: 50 strikes (minimum) from each, putting in static, box, and three-step methods on the 18 striking-strikes and using static and reciprocating-L stepping on the S&G strikes for a total of 1200 strikes.
- Single-Action Striking from "The Three" Forms: attention to all 21 strikes in The Three forms, including redundant strikes, doing those from each form continuously. Success: 50 strikes (minimum) from each non-lying-step strike, putting in static, box, and three-step methods on each; 30 or 40-some-odd of each of the lying-step strikes in box and three-step methods for a total of around 1100 strikes. [that means around 2300 strikes, with power, today... that and wobbly legs]
- The Three Forms: repeat each with power 10 times, paying particular attention to connecting one move with the one(s) following it and the stepping. Success: 10 times each.
- Stretch: stretch enough to hurt less after everything than before it. Success!
- Heavy Grippers: usual workout. Success! [Right now that's a warm-up on the 100, a set of 15 on the 150 in each hand, then two sets of 12-ish in the right with the 200 and a set of 12-ish with the 150 followed by a set of 8-ish with the 200 with the left. After that, I use both hands to close the 200, hold it closed as long as I can in each hand, and then finish with a burnout of 25-30 with the 100 in each hand].
- Classic zhan zhuang: at least 30 minutes, like usual. Haven't done it yet, but it's coming soon.
- Sitting Meditation: at least 30 minutes. I've done a little over 10 of the minutes so far, but not all of it. I'll finish after I stand tonight.
- Watch the Apps Video: 30 minutes or so. That's up next! It really puts me in the mind of thinking about this art and gets me revved up about exploring the moves in my mind, so I find it to be a real treasure. I can't wait to get my hands/eyes/brain on the Qin-na Deeper Understanding video and the up-and-coming stepping video!
- Turning: turn for an hour or more without lowering my hands. Fail. I think I was bordering on heat stroke or serious dehydration by the time I finished the strikes (it was f-ing hot here today, and I did it outside, mostly in my driveway in the sun because that's where I have to rock out this way), but a couple of quarts of cool water really helped settle that. What actually got me was starting too late in the day and running into Heather's work requirements. I ended up turning for about a quarter of the goal, though I felt pretty good doing it all along (though a mite weak from the cumulative strain). I could probably be turning some more right now instead of typing this, but I'm sated with what I did for the day.
It also hearkened me back to my "how do they do it" post. All-in-all, my actual workout time, including stretching and all the not-bagua stuff and between-sets/strikes resting came up to a little over three hours and a half (30-ish standing, 90-ish striking, 20-ish with forms, 30-ish stretching, 15-ish with the grippers, 10-ish meditating, 15-ish turning). To read the forum is to see that this is a little more than a "typical daily workout" for many folks. I'm either a bit skeptical or a bit of a sissy.... The saying is that the proof is in the pudding, though the only thing I can think of when I think of pudding at the moment is how some parts of my thighs feel.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Flaw in my Plan
With the U.S. tour workshops approaching so rapidly, I've been upping my already difficult-to-fit-in workouts to prepare for them a bit more. Today, I had intended to do a mini-workshop day for myself just to get an idea of how wrecked I'd be if I were to go there today. Since the workshops start early (7 am!), I figured I'd get up early (not quite early enough, but I'm working on that), eat a bite, do static postures for about half an hour, bust out a couple thousand strikes with a serious attitude and the proper intent, take a lunch break, turn for an hour, do a form (or a few forms) a whole bunch of times, and review the applications video. I was aware of the remnants of Tropical Storm Fay moving into the area and intended to tear it up out in my driveway or yard, rain or shine. It didn't go down like that.
The flaw in my plan is that I'm not a morning person, and I haven't been practicing on pretending to be one. I woke up first at 3:18, though I didn't know it, ripped, roaring, and ready to go. After sauntering around to where I could see the clock and realizing it was 3:18 am (instead of the 5:45 or so that I assumed), I went back to bed. My next moment of consciousness did not occur until after first light, so I knew it was later than 5-anything, but I wasn't perturbed. It turned out to be about ten after 7. I figured that wasn't bad for a first try (with no alarm, even!). What I hadn't counted on is something I'm still at a bit of a loss to understand or explain: how is it that my brain and body could have been so overwhelmingly charged at 3:18 am and so overwhelmingly inept after almost four more hours rest, which is slightly more rest than I had achieved by 3:18 am? It makes no sense.
I had brain fog and "morning sickness," meaning the really sick feeling I have every time I get up earlier in the morning than I'm used to or earlier than 6:30 under any circumstances even if I've had to get up before 6:30 every morning for four months. It floats between "I might throw up" and "I think I have diarrhea" and ruins motivation. Also, everything, which is to say everything, was very extra confusing. My quick bite for breakfast took until almost 9 to make, I was so confused and slow-moving. By the time that was done, other unaccounted-for activities of a home-improvement variety were going on and making the idea of going out in the rain to do strikes seem slightly inappropriate. By the time that was done, I still felt woozy and sick, and it was almost time for my lunch break... having achieved nothing of my planned training yet and being in a position where I'm not sure it should/would have counted had I forced myself to do it. What little I did try convinced me that it quite literally wasn't worth my effort yet and made me feel even sicker.
Usually, the crap wake-up feeling wears off by 9:30 or 10 at the latest, often earlier than that, frequently even if I get up in the 5-somethings. Not so today. I continued to feel like crap straight until almost 5:30 pm, tilting on the verge of being sick every time I tried to do anything and not having the energy to do much more than lay on my side. I did get some math done, but the toll it took on my mind and body was tremendous. I wanted a nap so badly, but I am forcing myself not to have them until I'm trained to go to bed early and wake up early, hopefully without feeling lost and sick.
Once the sick subsided, I went out into the still-steady rain and decided to follow Bradley's advice on training on which he's really ramping up the focus: "get better at something every time you train." I decided that today's effort would be on the three-step method, and so I applied it with a wide variety of strikes from the basics and several of the forms, ultimately doing around 840 of them without much in the way of a break. After that, I ran through those forms a few times, dripping wet at this point, and turned for about five or six minutes, just enough to get the feel for it (and start feeling it after all that striking with no rest!) and went inside, wringing out my workout clothes before tossing them into the laundry -- feeling quite sick again, though not in the same way. It was the same sick feeling, but it wasn't as pervasive. It was more of a redoubled desire to lay down and go to sleep right then and there.
I celebrated by making "fiesta-style" chicken and wild rice for dinner. I feel a bit guilty, like I shortchanged myself or my workout, but I figure that I did anything on a day like today was really a testament to something. I'm going to stand now and go to sleep so that I can try it all again tomorrow, this time with the pressure that I have to go in to work on Wednesdays, so something almost has to happen in the morning before I have to be there. Here's to trying, if nothing more!
The flaw in my plan is that I'm not a morning person, and I haven't been practicing on pretending to be one. I woke up first at 3:18, though I didn't know it, ripped, roaring, and ready to go. After sauntering around to where I could see the clock and realizing it was 3:18 am (instead of the 5:45 or so that I assumed), I went back to bed. My next moment of consciousness did not occur until after first light, so I knew it was later than 5-anything, but I wasn't perturbed. It turned out to be about ten after 7. I figured that wasn't bad for a first try (with no alarm, even!). What I hadn't counted on is something I'm still at a bit of a loss to understand or explain: how is it that my brain and body could have been so overwhelmingly charged at 3:18 am and so overwhelmingly inept after almost four more hours rest, which is slightly more rest than I had achieved by 3:18 am? It makes no sense.
I had brain fog and "morning sickness," meaning the really sick feeling I have every time I get up earlier in the morning than I'm used to or earlier than 6:30 under any circumstances even if I've had to get up before 6:30 every morning for four months. It floats between "I might throw up" and "I think I have diarrhea" and ruins motivation. Also, everything, which is to say everything, was very extra confusing. My quick bite for breakfast took until almost 9 to make, I was so confused and slow-moving. By the time that was done, other unaccounted-for activities of a home-improvement variety were going on and making the idea of going out in the rain to do strikes seem slightly inappropriate. By the time that was done, I still felt woozy and sick, and it was almost time for my lunch break... having achieved nothing of my planned training yet and being in a position where I'm not sure it should/would have counted had I forced myself to do it. What little I did try convinced me that it quite literally wasn't worth my effort yet and made me feel even sicker.
Usually, the crap wake-up feeling wears off by 9:30 or 10 at the latest, often earlier than that, frequently even if I get up in the 5-somethings. Not so today. I continued to feel like crap straight until almost 5:30 pm, tilting on the verge of being sick every time I tried to do anything and not having the energy to do much more than lay on my side. I did get some math done, but the toll it took on my mind and body was tremendous. I wanted a nap so badly, but I am forcing myself not to have them until I'm trained to go to bed early and wake up early, hopefully without feeling lost and sick.
Once the sick subsided, I went out into the still-steady rain and decided to follow Bradley's advice on training on which he's really ramping up the focus: "get better at something every time you train." I decided that today's effort would be on the three-step method, and so I applied it with a wide variety of strikes from the basics and several of the forms, ultimately doing around 840 of them without much in the way of a break. After that, I ran through those forms a few times, dripping wet at this point, and turned for about five or six minutes, just enough to get the feel for it (and start feeling it after all that striking with no rest!) and went inside, wringing out my workout clothes before tossing them into the laundry -- feeling quite sick again, though not in the same way. It was the same sick feeling, but it wasn't as pervasive. It was more of a redoubled desire to lay down and go to sleep right then and there.
I celebrated by making "fiesta-style" chicken and wild rice for dinner. I feel a bit guilty, like I shortchanged myself or my workout, but I figure that I did anything on a day like today was really a testament to something. I'm going to stand now and go to sleep so that I can try it all again tomorrow, this time with the pressure that I have to go in to work on Wednesdays, so something almost has to happen in the morning before I have to be there. Here's to trying, if nothing more!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Phases
More than ever, I'm convinced from my own experience about something I've suspected for a long time: we have phases. There are in our lives times in which our very approach to being and living is drastically more active, energetic, and vigorous. At those times, our lives are in a phase that is primarily yang. There are other times in our lives in which every endeavor seems a tremendous effort, particularly physical endeavors, where inexplicably, it seems, we sleep too late and then yearn for more sleep and the very idea of working out seems dreadful, preferring a nap that according to our programmed idea of "eight hours per night" we shouldn't need at all. At those times, our lives are primarily in a yin phase. We must live with both phases, and they are inescapable realities. In the West, we often try to ignore, repress, or push through the yin phases, wondering why our lives, efforts, and, particularly, workouts suddenly don't have the vigor that they had just weeks ago, attributing it to any number of causes. "Sometimes we're up, and sometimes we're down," might be the best explanation of all, especially if we notice that the changes are cyclical.
I've found myself lately in a very yin phase. My desire to train has slackened tremendously. Some aspects of my workouts have suffered, and yet the intellectual components of learning and developing in Yin Style Baguazhang have seemed to increase tenfold. I feel pulled to review the video material, taking it a step further to document and study carefully the requirements and patterns revealed therein, and I stare at my driveway thinking of doing strikes with tremendous disdain. I've only managed about 3000 of them in the last week, and the sessions were all forced, my power feeling like it had waned slightly; my will to continue diminished. I can feel it now, typing up this post... the desire to explore the art with my mind and to put my thoughts down is full. This afternoon, I stared out into the hazy heat, gazing at my circle with guilt for the lack of attention I've given it in the past week and flooded with exactly the opposite feeling that this post is giving me: dread. Faced with the reality of my training, though, I thought: an hour a day... not quite... not even close, though I did manage to turn most of the days. I thought about the near-90 heat, intense humidity (thanks to the remnants of a tropical storm moving this way and it being the Dirty South), and the mosquitoes, and I almost talked myself out of it.
After arguing with myself, I forced myself out onto the circle that I missed yesterday. Our study group was made fully official by the International Yin Style folks yesterday, and I had planned to celebrate with an hour or so on the circle and maybe a thousand or more strikes. I didn't even turn yesterday, though. Deciding that I should put in at least 45 minutes, not feeling up to the hour, I got on to turn. I finished my first go-around in each direction at 42 minutes, maintaining a good feeling the whole time and a fullness I hadn't felt in days. My desire to nap evaporated, and I figured doing just three more minutes was silly. Once more voyage each way got me over my hour, with three whole extra minutes on my little timer, and I felt great, very glad I had done it.
Now I realize that part of life is different phases, and that during yin phases, training is more difficult. I'm willing to bet that doing strikes wouldn't have gone nearly as well, though static postures earlier in the day had been quite successful. Forms feel good when the power is kept low, but doing them hard just doesn't feel right. Perhaps part of training in an art like Yin Style is learning to recognize the phases of our lives and adapt our training to them accordingly, asking what is natural of our bodies at the appropriate times instead of blindly trying to force ourselves into a rigid mold that bucks against those cyclic changes. Still, many of the exercises of Yin Style are performed well in yin or yang phases, like turning, and the different aspects of the practice in the different phases can and should be explored -- through practice. The different phases, though, do not permit laziness, however.
An old saying is "between two and five, the training is real," where the two refer to yin and and the five the five phases/transitions/elements/states of traditional Chinese medicine and philosophy. That saying indicates to me that learning about the phases of the body in terms of both yin and yang is part of training Yin Style and a critical part of development. I can only wonder and hope about what revelations and realizations will come about concerning the five with further effort.
Perhaps with attention and through diligent training, I will continue in this way until I can feel the yin within the yang, and vice-versa, with the phases of my life and continually adapt my life to those subtle influences, which is likely a stepping stone to "the five." I look forward to such a day and am thrilled that Yin Style may offer such self-knowledge.
I've found myself lately in a very yin phase. My desire to train has slackened tremendously. Some aspects of my workouts have suffered, and yet the intellectual components of learning and developing in Yin Style Baguazhang have seemed to increase tenfold. I feel pulled to review the video material, taking it a step further to document and study carefully the requirements and patterns revealed therein, and I stare at my driveway thinking of doing strikes with tremendous disdain. I've only managed about 3000 of them in the last week, and the sessions were all forced, my power feeling like it had waned slightly; my will to continue diminished. I can feel it now, typing up this post... the desire to explore the art with my mind and to put my thoughts down is full. This afternoon, I stared out into the hazy heat, gazing at my circle with guilt for the lack of attention I've given it in the past week and flooded with exactly the opposite feeling that this post is giving me: dread. Faced with the reality of my training, though, I thought: an hour a day... not quite... not even close, though I did manage to turn most of the days. I thought about the near-90 heat, intense humidity (thanks to the remnants of a tropical storm moving this way and it being the Dirty South), and the mosquitoes, and I almost talked myself out of it.
After arguing with myself, I forced myself out onto the circle that I missed yesterday. Our study group was made fully official by the International Yin Style folks yesterday, and I had planned to celebrate with an hour or so on the circle and maybe a thousand or more strikes. I didn't even turn yesterday, though. Deciding that I should put in at least 45 minutes, not feeling up to the hour, I got on to turn. I finished my first go-around in each direction at 42 minutes, maintaining a good feeling the whole time and a fullness I hadn't felt in days. My desire to nap evaporated, and I figured doing just three more minutes was silly. Once more voyage each way got me over my hour, with three whole extra minutes on my little timer, and I felt great, very glad I had done it.
Now I realize that part of life is different phases, and that during yin phases, training is more difficult. I'm willing to bet that doing strikes wouldn't have gone nearly as well, though static postures earlier in the day had been quite successful. Forms feel good when the power is kept low, but doing them hard just doesn't feel right. Perhaps part of training in an art like Yin Style is learning to recognize the phases of our lives and adapt our training to them accordingly, asking what is natural of our bodies at the appropriate times instead of blindly trying to force ourselves into a rigid mold that bucks against those cyclic changes. Still, many of the exercises of Yin Style are performed well in yin or yang phases, like turning, and the different aspects of the practice in the different phases can and should be explored -- through practice. The different phases, though, do not permit laziness, however.
An old saying is "between two and five, the training is real," where the two refer to yin and and the five the five phases/transitions/elements/states of traditional Chinese medicine and philosophy. That saying indicates to me that learning about the phases of the body in terms of both yin and yang is part of training Yin Style and a critical part of development. I can only wonder and hope about what revelations and realizations will come about concerning the five with further effort.
Perhaps with attention and through diligent training, I will continue in this way until I can feel the yin within the yang, and vice-versa, with the phases of my life and continually adapt my life to those subtle influences, which is likely a stepping stone to "the five." I look forward to such a day and am thrilled that Yin Style may offer such self-knowledge.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
How's It Done?
So I've been working out pretty hard this past week, though probably not the hardest I ever have due to the myriad things life throws my way, particularly in August. This is partially because I consider myself pretty dedicated to these things, and it is partially in response to the fact that on our sahweet forum, some folks have been talking about their workouts and making yours truly feel a bit deficient. Here's what I got for the week, roughly.
Here's the thing, indicating my title for the post: I honestly don't know how people are doing what they're claiming. Physically, I don't think I was strapped to my limits here. Certainly, in any one striking session, some of which approached 1500 strikes in one go (I don't rest between strikes when I train, typically), fatigue set in and required me to take a break to get back up to full-steam. One of my turning sessions was a proud 12 minutes following just over 1200 strikes done continuously with no break except for a 20-to-30-second walk to my circle followed by a 20-to-30-second "normalize my breathing" period before I began to turn. That was hard. Half an hour later, I turned for another twenty without too much difficulty, so resting made a big difference.
Still, I'm wondering how people are managing what they're posting about on the forum because I don't even have a job that I have to go to until tomorrow and still had a hard time pulling off half of it. Sure, there's work to be done, but just the act of fulfilling the role I lead in the household I live in (with family including teenagers!), noting my essentially non-existent social life, prevented me really from being able to do much more, what with the work I did have to do even without having to go to a special workplace for it. Admittedly, I've turned more in a week while keeping up other training and probably could have fit it in if I was willing to accept multiple sessions in a day, but it really took a lot to accomplish what I did for the week. It seems to compare favorably with what many of my compatriots are pulling in two or three days, though.
I just don't want to be falling behind. Maybe I should structure my life a bit more and fit it in that way. I am a bit free-form with my schedule, taking each moment and opportunity as it arises. What with work starting back in full measure tomorrow, a greater amount of disciplined structure could facilitate the training regimen, though it really hampers my enjoyment of my life.
- Static Postures (YSB only): About 90-100 minutes, total.
- Turning: About 3 hours 20 minutes, total.
- Striking: Between 5000 and 5500 strikes, total including Lion basics and those in the forms done in single-action, performed in static, box stepping, and three-stepping methods; just over 3 hours total time, approximately.
- Forms: Perhaps 80-100 repetitions of forms, primarily of three main ones but visiting some others to review them and keep the training fresh, probably 30-40 minutes total time.
- Applications: Around 3 hours actively studying applications with other human beings and just short of an hour visualizing doing it while resting, falling asleep, refusing to get out of bed in the morning, etc.
- Video reviewing: Approximately 30 minutes.
Here's the thing, indicating my title for the post: I honestly don't know how people are doing what they're claiming. Physically, I don't think I was strapped to my limits here. Certainly, in any one striking session, some of which approached 1500 strikes in one go (I don't rest between strikes when I train, typically), fatigue set in and required me to take a break to get back up to full-steam. One of my turning sessions was a proud 12 minutes following just over 1200 strikes done continuously with no break except for a 20-to-30-second walk to my circle followed by a 20-to-30-second "normalize my breathing" period before I began to turn. That was hard. Half an hour later, I turned for another twenty without too much difficulty, so resting made a big difference.
Still, I'm wondering how people are managing what they're posting about on the forum because I don't even have a job that I have to go to until tomorrow and still had a hard time pulling off half of it. Sure, there's work to be done, but just the act of fulfilling the role I lead in the household I live in (with family including teenagers!), noting my essentially non-existent social life, prevented me really from being able to do much more, what with the work I did have to do even without having to go to a special workplace for it. Admittedly, I've turned more in a week while keeping up other training and probably could have fit it in if I was willing to accept multiple sessions in a day, but it really took a lot to accomplish what I did for the week. It seems to compare favorably with what many of my compatriots are pulling in two or three days, though.
I just don't want to be falling behind. Maybe I should structure my life a bit more and fit it in that way. I am a bit free-form with my schedule, taking each moment and opportunity as it arises. What with work starting back in full measure tomorrow, a greater amount of disciplined structure could facilitate the training regimen, though it really hampers my enjoyment of my life.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Continuous Striking
Sometimes I strike purely to develop skill, sometimes I strike purely to develop power, and sometimes I do strikes to develop some of both of those things and to enhance endurance. Today, and at least for a few days here, I think I'll be focusing on Number Three. The method is "continuous striking," which I've done small-scale before, say just with static striking through a palm or with a small number of repetitions of each of the basics. Here's the routine, for anyone that wants to try it. I will warn you... I kind of had to go through it a few times slowly and without power, almost like a flowing dance, to make sure I had the pattern and footwork down.
First, choose two palms. I chose, today, Sweeping and Cutting. Then, choose a form. I chose, today, Holding and Lifting from Sweeping Palm. Then, get started! The routine begins with static striking, trying to pay attention to proper execution of power and meeting the requirements. After fifty strikes, which I counted, I did a fifty-first as an introduction into the box-stepping method. Four or five times around the box in each direction later, I'm back where I started, poised perfectly to take the same strike directly into the three-stepping method. Four or five times down and back in three-step, and I'm done with that strike. Instead of closing it up, though, I flowed directly into the next strike, repeating the entire triad for all six of my strikes. The intention had been to continue to do that directly into single-action strikes from the forms, but my fitness wasn't there. On the last of my strikes for the day, rising cutting, I had to choose between power and technique by the time I got to the three-step routine. I was fatigued, but I had done over 600 strikes without taking a break by then too. The nice part is that it doesn't take as long as hundreds of strikes usually take... maybe between fifteen and twenty minutes for the lot. The not nice part is how it makes you feel when you hit your edge.
After a break, which was longer than I had originally planned due to an overwhelming feeling that I might toss, I hit the strikes from the forms with the same routine, though I more or less halved everything. A few rounds of the form later, I was done, feeling it, and glad to be feeling it. Now that I'm feeling better, I'm going to turn for a bit before calling it a workout.
First, choose two palms. I chose, today, Sweeping and Cutting. Then, choose a form. I chose, today, Holding and Lifting from Sweeping Palm. Then, get started! The routine begins with static striking, trying to pay attention to proper execution of power and meeting the requirements. After fifty strikes, which I counted, I did a fifty-first as an introduction into the box-stepping method. Four or five times around the box in each direction later, I'm back where I started, poised perfectly to take the same strike directly into the three-stepping method. Four or five times down and back in three-step, and I'm done with that strike. Instead of closing it up, though, I flowed directly into the next strike, repeating the entire triad for all six of my strikes. The intention had been to continue to do that directly into single-action strikes from the forms, but my fitness wasn't there. On the last of my strikes for the day, rising cutting, I had to choose between power and technique by the time I got to the three-step routine. I was fatigued, but I had done over 600 strikes without taking a break by then too. The nice part is that it doesn't take as long as hundreds of strikes usually take... maybe between fifteen and twenty minutes for the lot. The not nice part is how it makes you feel when you hit your edge.
After a break, which was longer than I had originally planned due to an overwhelming feeling that I might toss, I hit the strikes from the forms with the same routine, though I more or less halved everything. A few rounds of the form later, I was done, feeling it, and glad to be feeling it. Now that I'm feeling better, I'm going to turn for a bit before calling it a workout.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
The Rotisserie
I've been turning these last few days for less time and doing it right around noon, when the National Weather Service indicates that we're lately having a UV Index of "10+ Extreme." For the past several days, I've been pulling thirty minute shifts in the roasting sun, but today I cut it back to 18 for the sake of my lily-white skin, which isn't adjusting as quickly as I'd have hoped. I get the distinct impression of being in a rotisserie from the exercise, though.
My striking practice is still going strong, averaging close to a thousand a day, I think, still emphasizing the shocking strikes, which are coming along, albeit slowly. In addition, I've been putting more time into the strikes from the various forms, doing them in single-action mode, and I'm finding some of them are a bit more weird than I had anticipated. I'm glad I decided on this course of practice this week. It's also, of course, enhancing my ability to practice the forms I'm taking those striking methods from, giving me an extra excuse to do those forms a few extra times.
The biggest change to my practice this past week, though, has been in standing practice. In addition to my 30+ minutes of zhan zhuang that I've been doing, I've started ramping up my static postures rather significantly. First, I'm doing the Lion representational posture every morning as I rise, though due to sleep still filling my body, I don't usually succeed in doing it for very long at that point. It's a very nice and effective wake-up tool, though. Second, I'm putting at least twenty to thirty minutes a day into the standing postures, and I'm really starting to enjoy the practice more and more.
My striking practice is still going strong, averaging close to a thousand a day, I think, still emphasizing the shocking strikes, which are coming along, albeit slowly. In addition, I've been putting more time into the strikes from the various forms, doing them in single-action mode, and I'm finding some of them are a bit more weird than I had anticipated. I'm glad I decided on this course of practice this week. It's also, of course, enhancing my ability to practice the forms I'm taking those striking methods from, giving me an extra excuse to do those forms a few extra times.
The biggest change to my practice this past week, though, has been in standing practice. In addition to my 30+ minutes of zhan zhuang that I've been doing, I've started ramping up my static postures rather significantly. First, I'm doing the Lion representational posture every morning as I rise, though due to sleep still filling my body, I don't usually succeed in doing it for very long at that point. It's a very nice and effective wake-up tool, though. Second, I'm putting at least twenty to thirty minutes a day into the standing postures, and I'm really starting to enjoy the practice more and more.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Getting the Shocking Force
Today I was reminded of an important lesson in training. It's simple, but there is a story, which is good for people that come here to read stories.
I've felt for a while that my shocking strikes, particularly straight shocking and turning the body shocking, have been a bit weak. Not only that, but I felt they kind of made my back hurt, so I figured I must be doing them incorrectly. Discouraged, I reacted by doing fewer of them. The situation did not improve.
Finally, I've decided this situation is not acceptable any longer, and that aspect of my training must take priority and be addressed. I broke out the Lion system videos the other day and watched. Then I thought about them and played with them, but I still only had a little success. Then I did it again today, taking time to write down the requirements of the strike that are presented on the video, the physiological methods by which the shocking force is generated, and my observations of things not spoken about but plainly done in the execution of the strikes. After studying my lists for a moment, I set to doing the strikes, and I did a gracious plenty of them.
I had to start by doing them essentially in slow motion, feeling my way through them, trying to discover where the change from 'slow' to 'fast' occurred and determine what my body should be doing to make that happen. Pretty soon, by remembering the video (in which I saw things that I hadn't before noticed), paying attention, and experimenting with myself, I started to feel what seemed correct. A few more strikes later, paying close attention to what I was doing and feeling, it started to set itself like concrete. Before I knew it, I was at a regular striking cadence, feeling strong at least three out of four times, and glad to be doing it. One of the kids asked me if I knew I was making the whole room shake.
Then I rested and did it again later, and again later, and again later, etc., performing all-in-all around five hundred straight shocking strikes interspersed with the shocking palm strengthening posture in the middle position. Then I applied what I was learning from it to the turning the body strike, and it made my back hurt from the word go.
Experimenting and remembering old lessons I had learned about the proper positioning and use of the waist and then contemplating the physics of the situation, I realized my problem almost at once, tried the strike again correcting for it, and felt no pain. Within a few strikes, my power was increasing, though it's not yet to the level that my straight shocking is. I did a few more of them a couple of times, but I've decided to focus primarily on the straight shocking to build the foundation before moving on. By the end of the week, though, I expect to feel the strength I've been missing for over two years of training those strikes.
The big take-home lesson I got was something I already preach but wasn't intelligent enough to practice in this case: if you want to get better at a strike, review the requirements and then do it, a lot, intelligently.
I've felt for a while that my shocking strikes, particularly straight shocking and turning the body shocking, have been a bit weak. Not only that, but I felt they kind of made my back hurt, so I figured I must be doing them incorrectly. Discouraged, I reacted by doing fewer of them. The situation did not improve.
Finally, I've decided this situation is not acceptable any longer, and that aspect of my training must take priority and be addressed. I broke out the Lion system videos the other day and watched. Then I thought about them and played with them, but I still only had a little success. Then I did it again today, taking time to write down the requirements of the strike that are presented on the video, the physiological methods by which the shocking force is generated, and my observations of things not spoken about but plainly done in the execution of the strikes. After studying my lists for a moment, I set to doing the strikes, and I did a gracious plenty of them.
I had to start by doing them essentially in slow motion, feeling my way through them, trying to discover where the change from 'slow' to 'fast' occurred and determine what my body should be doing to make that happen. Pretty soon, by remembering the video (in which I saw things that I hadn't before noticed), paying attention, and experimenting with myself, I started to feel what seemed correct. A few more strikes later, paying close attention to what I was doing and feeling, it started to set itself like concrete. Before I knew it, I was at a regular striking cadence, feeling strong at least three out of four times, and glad to be doing it. One of the kids asked me if I knew I was making the whole room shake.
Then I rested and did it again later, and again later, and again later, etc., performing all-in-all around five hundred straight shocking strikes interspersed with the shocking palm strengthening posture in the middle position. Then I applied what I was learning from it to the turning the body strike, and it made my back hurt from the word go.
Experimenting and remembering old lessons I had learned about the proper positioning and use of the waist and then contemplating the physics of the situation, I realized my problem almost at once, tried the strike again correcting for it, and felt no pain. Within a few strikes, my power was increasing, though it's not yet to the level that my straight shocking is. I did a few more of them a couple of times, but I've decided to focus primarily on the straight shocking to build the foundation before moving on. By the end of the week, though, I expect to feel the strength I've been missing for over two years of training those strikes.
The big take-home lesson I got was something I already preach but wasn't intelligent enough to practice in this case: if you want to get better at a strike, review the requirements and then do it, a lot, intelligently.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Shocking Power
We got together again this week to train, meeting for the second time at our new home, which is a pavilion on public land near a school. We appreciated a thunderstorm from the wall-free enclosure last week, and when we got there today, it was hot and humid but certainly not raining. Immediately we kicked it off, getting in some good basic training and a little group turning before investigating together the methods of generating and using the shocking force, studying the Lion System strikes of that palm and trying to feel and find it carefully, sharing our insights with one another when we had them. It's weird to be hit with, that's one thing. For what we could do, which isn't much I'm sure, it is startling and off-balancing with kind of a residual desire to exhale when hit in the chest/shoulder area. Taking it in the arm fairly well hurts; in fact, it felt a bit like a concrete slab being dropped onto us, that discomfort seeming to build with repeated strikes, leaving the arm-under-fire feeling heavy and dead. The shocking strikes and our experiments with them were evidently our rain dance this evening.
Just as we were feeling like we made some progress with the the strikes, a thunder-bumper broke out around us, this time much windier than before. In fact, our concrete training floor was soon inlaid with streams and ponds from the wind driving the water in (I read online when I got home that roughly 1.25", 3.2 cm, fell while we were there). Then it calmed down, the lightning receding as we counted the brighter strokes off to estimate their distances: less than a mile... a mile and a half... just over two miles.... Then, all of a sudden, just as we really got back into investigating some of the forces contained in striking, sharing what nuggets we had each gleaned in previous workshops with He Jinbao in the falls past along with what we've come to understand since those times, what could only have been a microburst hit us. The wind and heavy rain came essentially from nowhere, and if I had to guess, the blast, which lasted probably for two or three minutes straight, was in the 80 mph range (130 km/hr), numbers roughly confirmed from another online weather map. It came from the east-northeast, and in that direction is a small hill that lays only feet from the pavilion, rising higher than the structure's approximately ten-foot roof. The wind and rain were so intense that they actually came in from that side, despite the hill, and blew straight through, coming out the far side, absolutely soaking us in the process. My shoes, in fact, are essentially a swamp, but I was soaked to dripping from head to toe. That ended our party pretty much on the dot, though we stood there together laughing our heads off over the sheer power and surprise of the thing, and, if you'll pardon the pun, we were all three feeling pretty charged-up by the whole thing.
The moral of this story, I guess, is that sometimes we should be careful about which rain dances we choose to do... or that we should accept what nature gives us and enjoy it!
Just as we were feeling like we made some progress with the the strikes, a thunder-bumper broke out around us, this time much windier than before. In fact, our concrete training floor was soon inlaid with streams and ponds from the wind driving the water in (I read online when I got home that roughly 1.25", 3.2 cm, fell while we were there). Then it calmed down, the lightning receding as we counted the brighter strokes off to estimate their distances: less than a mile... a mile and a half... just over two miles.... Then, all of a sudden, just as we really got back into investigating some of the forces contained in striking, sharing what nuggets we had each gleaned in previous workshops with He Jinbao in the falls past along with what we've come to understand since those times, what could only have been a microburst hit us. The wind and heavy rain came essentially from nowhere, and if I had to guess, the blast, which lasted probably for two or three minutes straight, was in the 80 mph range (130 km/hr), numbers roughly confirmed from another online weather map. It came from the east-northeast, and in that direction is a small hill that lays only feet from the pavilion, rising higher than the structure's approximately ten-foot roof. The wind and rain were so intense that they actually came in from that side, despite the hill, and blew straight through, coming out the far side, absolutely soaking us in the process. My shoes, in fact, are essentially a swamp, but I was soaked to dripping from head to toe. That ended our party pretty much on the dot, though we stood there together laughing our heads off over the sheer power and surprise of the thing, and, if you'll pardon the pun, we were all three feeling pretty charged-up by the whole thing.
The moral of this story, I guess, is that sometimes we should be careful about which rain dances we choose to do... or that we should accept what nature gives us and enjoy it!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Welcome Back, Old Friend II
Again I get to welcome back an "old friend" to my turning scene, only I'm not sure how excited I am about this one. The other day I noted that I was lucky enough to turn for two and a half hours straight because of a combination of fortunate events, one of which was a reduction in the temperature. So much for that.
The old friend I'm referring to today is heat. Though the NWS disagrees with me, the thermometer in my yard tells me that it was floating right around 95 (F -- 35C for my non-American readers) this evening when I got out on the circle to go right round, baby, right round, like a record, baby [sorry... it just popped into my head and had to be typed to keep it from getting stuck there!]. I was sweating rivers! Training in 90+ (32+) weather is tough. It's also a cold, hard reality (HA!) in this neck of the woods.
To make matters even more awesome, the temperature decrease on Friday night was actually due to an impending torrential downpour arriving Saturday morning. The extra moisture has had two wonderful effects: 1) raising our relative humidity to "won't evaporate sweat but will stifle and limit visibility," and 2) calling forth every mosquito that apparently ever lived. I turned for about twenty-four minutes last night, being bitten at least a dozen times in uncomfortable places like the middle of my back or on my kidney, and tonight's twenty minutes saw the same thing. Both times, my hanging it up from the turning was caused by being eaten by other creatures, which I declare (at least at my level) to be a justifiable cause for hanging it up. I will note that due to my soreness from the marathon on Friday night, I would have been pushing it to get forty good minutes either day today, but if forced I probably could have done an hour at least on one of them.
One interesting side-effect of all the turning, though, has presented itself via the annoying insects. When they bite, it's the same as for everyone else (I assume). In the last year or so, though, since my training, particularly my turning, has really been elevated, the bites don't seem to itch for very long, maybe an hour or two. Usually, in fact, within an hour and a half, I cannot even find the place where I had been bitten, the swelling having more or less subsided completely and the itching having been forgotten. I'd like to attribute that to qi, but I'm not so hasty. Still, reading rather heavily on the matter last week unveiled to me that the reaction to the mosquito's saliva that we experience as an irritating bite largely has to do with how the immune system responds to it. Initially, when we're quite young, apparently, we get little or no reaction, but as we experience increasing amounts of exposure to the compound, our reaction intensifies. This, I think, is typical in children who seem to be driven absolutely mad by the bites. Eventually, largish swollen areas replace the characteristic bumps of our youths, and this is known to be caused by a further increased sensitivity to the mosquito saliva, the immune system essentially overreacting to the stimulus. In a small percentage of adults, though, a phenomenon similar to what I'm experiencing now occurs, though no one's perfectly sure why, knowing only that it must have to do with immune function. If I'm not mistaken, the Chinese medicine approach to immunity has a lot to do with defensive energy, wei qi. Perhaps one of the side-effects of extended training in an art like baguazhang enhances that aspect of our energetic makeup, and perhaps it has some effect on the mosquito-bite phenomenon I experience now. In any case, I feel at least slightly justified in owing to my training at least a part of this small benefit to my life, though being bitten still sucks.
The old friend I'm referring to today is heat. Though the NWS disagrees with me, the thermometer in my yard tells me that it was floating right around 95 (F -- 35C for my non-American readers) this evening when I got out on the circle to go right round, baby, right round, like a record, baby [sorry... it just popped into my head and had to be typed to keep it from getting stuck there!]. I was sweating rivers! Training in 90+ (32+) weather is tough. It's also a cold, hard reality (HA!) in this neck of the woods.
To make matters even more awesome, the temperature decrease on Friday night was actually due to an impending torrential downpour arriving Saturday morning. The extra moisture has had two wonderful effects: 1) raising our relative humidity to "won't evaporate sweat but will stifle and limit visibility," and 2) calling forth every mosquito that apparently ever lived. I turned for about twenty-four minutes last night, being bitten at least a dozen times in uncomfortable places like the middle of my back or on my kidney, and tonight's twenty minutes saw the same thing. Both times, my hanging it up from the turning was caused by being eaten by other creatures, which I declare (at least at my level) to be a justifiable cause for hanging it up. I will note that due to my soreness from the marathon on Friday night, I would have been pushing it to get forty good minutes either day today, but if forced I probably could have done an hour at least on one of them.
One interesting side-effect of all the turning, though, has presented itself via the annoying insects. When they bite, it's the same as for everyone else (I assume). In the last year or so, though, since my training, particularly my turning, has really been elevated, the bites don't seem to itch for very long, maybe an hour or two. Usually, in fact, within an hour and a half, I cannot even find the place where I had been bitten, the swelling having more or less subsided completely and the itching having been forgotten. I'd like to attribute that to qi, but I'm not so hasty. Still, reading rather heavily on the matter last week unveiled to me that the reaction to the mosquito's saliva that we experience as an irritating bite largely has to do with how the immune system responds to it. Initially, when we're quite young, apparently, we get little or no reaction, but as we experience increasing amounts of exposure to the compound, our reaction intensifies. This, I think, is typical in children who seem to be driven absolutely mad by the bites. Eventually, largish swollen areas replace the characteristic bumps of our youths, and this is known to be caused by a further increased sensitivity to the mosquito saliva, the immune system essentially overreacting to the stimulus. In a small percentage of adults, though, a phenomenon similar to what I'm experiencing now occurs, though no one's perfectly sure why, knowing only that it must have to do with immune function. If I'm not mistaken, the Chinese medicine approach to immunity has a lot to do with defensive energy, wei qi. Perhaps one of the side-effects of extended training in an art like baguazhang enhances that aspect of our energetic makeup, and perhaps it has some effect on the mosquito-bite phenomenon I experience now. In any case, I feel at least slightly justified in owing to my training at least a part of this small benefit to my life, though being bitten still sucks.
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