LIFE INSIDE A KUNG FU ACADEMY IN CHINA
Every day at the Academy,
– aside from Thursday,
a day of rest –
followed the same rhythm.
6:30–7:30: Qigong
8:00: Breakfast
9:00–11:30: Training I
11:50: Lunch
15:00–17:00: Training II
17:30: Dinner
18:30–19:30: Stretch and meditation
Watched over by a mountain,
guided by philosophy,
encouraged by interest,
Wudang is home to a growing number of Kung Fu Academies.
Modern in brick,
ancient in practice.
From across China,
– and a few curious souls beyond –
they come.
Hard earned yuan,
and precious holiday,
given,
– like an offering –
to a process of reverence,
hope,
and change.
I spoke to a grey-haired lady from Sichuan,
– fiery and focussed,
like the food in her region –
for whom it was “an important spiritual exploration.”
A teacher from Beijing,
– a deep thinker,
and fluid mover –
talked to me of “the kung fu dream,”
– held, I am told, by many –
where “justice” is delivered in a moment of social need.
A marketeer from Guangzhou,
– glasses thick cut,
uniform pristine –
spoke of having grown weary of “feeling heavy in the office.”
A recognisable foe –
the modern,
sedentary
world over.
Two younger students,
– stifling giggles,
and darting gazes –
said the experience was “pretty funny,”
and “really cool.”
Why need for any loftier motive than that?
The unburdened wisdom of youth.
I nodded along to it all,
glimpsing myself in every tale,
- except perhaps the real-time retribution.
My swivel kick remains a threat still to no one above hip height.
It felt otherworldly,
yet seemed to make more sense.
As I folded up my uniform,
I scribbled down four words,
– each a reminder –
that I hoped to pack alongside it.
It was Virginia Woolf who said,
“no need to be anybody but oneself.”
To my ears,
– and my liberal,
non-conformist,
ideals –
these are not words,
but music.
It was why a wry smile marked my face,
as I walked across the courtyard towards the dining quarter,
– metal bowl and spoon clutched by icy fingers –
realising that I was enjoying being a number.
There is a different kind of freedom,
– a simplification for the mind –
in letting go of the need to be other,
in yielding to the system,
in being another strand in the tapestry.
For the people of China,
– both non-negotiable,
and actively chosen –
the whole,
greater than the sum of its parts.
An outlook which,
– to my fascinated eye –
has created a rich sense of community,
of belonging,
of sufficiency,
of no one facing life alone.
“It is all about balance”
was a soundbite from Master Yuan.
Denoting both the destination,
and the path to it.
Monastic life may be unrealistic to replicate,
– beyond the stone,
amidst the hustle –
but it is a useful map.
Introducing you to what it feels like to experience balance,
in your body,
and your being.
I have known qigong for a few years now,
yet I met it for the first time in China.
The depth and breadth of the practice,
marking my body,
in new and instructive ways.
My fingers sprouting nails,
my hands rich with blood,
my digestion impeccable,
my dreams vivid and wild,
my thoughts clear and calm.
Here then in my body,
a map,
a feeling,
– of balance,
and flow –
to mirror in my life.
Back now in London,
when my body shows that I am out off the path,
– a shade out of kilter –
I consider my sources of ‘qi.’
Sleep
Food
Liquids
Exercise
Relationships
The natural world
Stillness
Breath
Sound
Touch
Purpose
Ritual
Somewhere in there,
a channel that is blocked,
– a map back to balance.
To watch a Master move,
is to understand the Daoist concept of ‘Wu Wei,’
of ‘effortless action.’
As light and graceful as a leopard,
achieved through enormous effort.
As we endeavoured,
– stumbling and falling –
to replicate this congruence,
we were introduced to the level of discipline,
patience,
and practice,
that is required.
A great deal of effort,
but in a natural direction.
Like water running down stream,
a farmer following the seasons,
or a bird riding the wind,
the lesson from my time in the region,
– do not resist what is,
move instead to what should be.
It may require endeavour,
– often the best things do –
but it should feel like home.
I left the gates with a recommitment,
to not seek that which does not seek me.
“Why are you not resting?”
was the friendly interrogation from my coach,
|who caught me practising on a lunch break.
Just as important as the hours spent stretching,
walking,
moving,
repeating,
eating,
studying,
– was the time given,
to resting.
In a western world which champions those who forsake,
– on sleep,
evenings,
children’s birthdays,
and slow Sundays –
we have somehow turned a life-giving practice,
into a guilt-laden one.
Yet if we watch any living being,
– shorn of our ‘great’ minds –
they rest when their body instructs them.
A dog,
nor a tree,
does not fear stillness,
does not feel shame for slowing down,
does not know the concept of ‘burning out.’
With spring unfurling, I wonder, what might your body need more of this season?
