Craggy Island wisdom

“Sure, what else is there to do than be extremely silly sometimes?“.

And who can argue with that?

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Triage

I’m starting to prepare for my move to Beijing. Over the weekend, I sent a couple of boxes of books to where I’ll be working; they should arrive around the same time as I do. I’m giving away dozens more books, and there’s still others that I want to keep, and will be leaving with friends – but a significant number of my friends are in a similar situation, to be honest, so I can’t leave much in Singapore.

That’s just the books; I have somehow managed to acquire a lot of stuff over the last two years, and it’s all got to leave my current apartment before, or as, I do… SO the question for each item is: do I want to take this to Beijing with me?

Wait… you can’t take it with you… I’ve heard that before, somewhere!

A few years ago, I read about a businessman, a consultant perhaps, who lived out of hotel rooms, with only the possessions he could carry in his luggage. At the time, I though that was crazy; now, I realize I’ve come to see it as an ideal. Part of this transition was finally selling my house in the UK; I’d come to hate the way it, and all the objects that filled it, controlled my ability to act on opportunities or take chances. The day I sold the house, having disposed of 95% of the contents, was a happy day indeed. I’m actually enjoying the process of reducing my belongings to a few bag- and box-fuls again.

As it happens, just before I started writing this, I saw evidence that I’m not alone in this POV – Cory Doctorow, he of the goggles, red cape, and balloon, writes on Boing Boing:

Since I left Toronto in 1999 (where I had an illegal, 2,000 sqft warehouse space), I’ve lived in progressively smaller apartments and flats, and I’ve come to love it. I think the key is to be absolutely ruthless about getting rid of stuff that you don’t need anymore — for example, I’ve started to give most of my books to thrift-stores when I’m done with them, buying them as a used book on Amazon for a few pennies if I need them again.

Hear, hear. Cease attachment to objects, and become free…

Week 1 roundup

The calendar in my old Nokia, the one I lost, showed which week it was in the calendar; I find that none of my remaining calendars (Google calendar, Windows, Mac, or ancient backup Nokia) have this function. So, I won’t be using the number of the week much in post headings, at least until I buy a new phone! Anyway, I know for sure that this has been the first week of 2008…

On New Year’s eve, I had an invitation to go to a barbeque. I was a bit dubious at first, as it was at the home of a friend-of-a-friend, and I wasn’t sure I felt up to being polite to strangers; I felt more like being contemplative. Plus, there was a taijigong class that evening. In the end, I decided to skip class and go to the barbie, since I was getting a bit too antisocial.  As it turned out, it was a really good evening, with quite a lot of people I knew or kind-of-knew, and we had a really good time with lots of friendly piss-taking and banter.

Round about 11, I said my farewells and headed up to the temple at Bright Hill. I went to their countdown last year, which wasn’t really to my taste, but I wanted to see in the New Year again to the sound of the 108 chimes of the bell. I got there at just the right time; I went to stand next  to the bell and, while I was debating where to stand, found that the crowd had sort of formed up around me. Next thing I knew, the monks had arrived, and I wound up pretty much facing the abbot as he rang the bell. What I didn’t know last year was that the crowd was largely composed of people who had spent the previous week on retreat at the temple, and this was the culmination of that.

I didn’t stay too long afterwards, and got a cab home. On New Year’s Day, Madam Ge had arranged a farewell meal for Sun Zhi Jun and Mi Jun Pei. We went to a fish restaurant on Marine Parade, and had a nice few hours. Most people had a buffet; as the sole veggie, I was brought a plate of vegetable noodles. There were lots of speeches of appreciation from various students (I was “persuaded” to make one as well, and almost died of embarrassment!), and gifts of tokens of esteem to all of our teachers. The evening finished off with karaoke. I have an deep dislike of karaoke  – I don’t like to sing, and I never know the words or, often, the tune – so I didn’t sing. Five years in Asia, and I’ve never yet sung in karaoke – and I don’t plan on breaking that precedent!

On Wednesday, I went for solo practice, and then to drink tea with Chin Woo friends. I’m trying to cut down on the beer for the new year… Thursday to taijigong class at the Nam Wah Association.

On Friday, Master Zhou took me through a lot of exercises designed to work on loosening up the shoulders, and developing explosive power. My power is currently more of a damp fizzle; more work needed. A good place to start is on getting my posture right; I almost gave myself whiplash at one point as trying to project force forwards from the shoulders shook my neck and head back and forth…

Last night, for the first time in over a year, there was no more baguazhang with Madam Ge. Instead, I headed down to Lavender for my first class in Zen Meditation at the Kwan Yin Chan Lin centre. It was a big class, with around forty students, though I don’t know how many were first-timers; quite a few were return students. There were quite a few foreigners.  It was a very calming session, as Ven. Chi Boon began to outline what Zen is about.

One thing that I found very interesting was when he asked us what Zen is. When some students tried to answer, he pointed out that by using words, we depart from the true nature of zen. How could we answer without using words? As we mulled this over, trying to discover some abstract way to achieve this, intellectualising the problem, an assistant standing behind us suddenly rapped the floor loudly with a stick. The surprise of the noise jerked us back into the moment. That was the answer all along… I found it interesting because I’ve read about this before, just as you are reading it now, and thought I understood – but there was an almost physical sensation as the mind returned, and I hadn’t expected that.

We began to practise seated meditation; I’m nowhere near flexible enough to sit in full lotus position, or even half-lotus. My ankles are very stiff. I suddenly realised that they used to be much looser; after the first meditation retreat I attended in Thailand, I was meditating regularly, and that really stretched my ankles. It was during that period that I first went to Beijing, and began to study baguazhang – I wonder if stopping regular meditation is why I seem to find mud-stepping harder these days? Stiffer ankles…?  Hmmm. The style of meditation we were using is all about breathing from the dantian, which is very good for me – I’ve been finding that difficult recently.
We also spent ten minutes last night in slow walking meditation, where practice in bagua stepping proved useful.  I’m looking forward to the rest of the course! I have a feeling that it will tie in much more closely than I expected with my work on taijigong and bagua…

Exploring the jianghu, part 1

I’ve been meaning for some time to write about why I chose to name this blog ‘Jianghu’. If you’ve been reading for a while, you’ll know that I have a liking for the dodgy, decrepit, grey zones, such as Keong Saik Road or Geylang in Singapore, or Qianmen in Beijing. Often, though not always, these are red-light areas. So, here goes. It’s a mult-layered thing. Before going any further, it may be worth looking again at my ‘About‘ page, to be clear on my definition of ‘jianghu’, because there are others!

The first layer is that these places are down-to-earth, authentic. The Spectacle hasn’t colonized them yet. These areas are raw and unfiltered; they’re about cheap and uncomplicated access to the first three of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: clothing, food, shelter, sex, and so on – though perhaps not in the same order as Maslow envisaged. There are no sophisticated marketing campaigns urging you to achieve a better life, or become a better person, through shopping. The simulacrum, the mediated packaging of artificial needs and their solutions that usually surrounds us, is absent.

The next layer is that the essential realness of these areas forces you to be present. Many of the denizens of these areas are, in the way of things, not nice, shy, or retiring. You cannot remain focused on the screen of your phone, and shamble unaware of your environment as a meanderthal – a state that sometimes appears to be our default, especially in Singapore. You must be present, conscious, and aware of your surroundings, undistracted by the unreal.

This leads on to the next layer: your own true nature becomes apparent through its reflection. My experience is that in these liminal areas, the unfiltered, authentic nature of the people will return and magnify your attitude towards them. The everyday masks and deceits of our contrived, everyday world are absent. An arrogant or aggressive nature will meet aggression and arrogance. An open, direct and generous approach will meet the same, but more so. That’s why some of the best and most memorable times of my life have been spent here, out on the fringes. Here, we see more clearly how we ourselves shape the world we think we live in.

At the next level, we have to decide how we react to the choices given to us. Areas like Geylang or Qianmen are focused on sensation. The food is cheap, varied, and delicious. Alcohol, likewise. Brothels of varying types are tucked away all around. Do we indulge, given the opportunity? The ease of opportunity makes this a very clear choice. In my case – well, I’m vegetarian, so it’s my choice to decline the vast majority of the food. The girls are fun to watch, and often interesting to eavesdrop upon, as they sit at outside table to eat or tout. While I generally speaking have no issues with working girls earning a living, I choose not to use their services. As for the beer – well, like the communicatrix, I’ve found this year that “bread + beer = belly”. Oops. Another thing to choose not to use in 2008! The choice is there, made plain, though: to indulge in sensation, or to opt to control it. The nature of the decision has all ambiguity and pretence stripped away, in the jianghu…

To be continued…

Blwyddyn newydd dda

Happy new year, and xin nian kuaile!

Let’s hope 2008 is better than 2007…

True self, right path

As I mentioned, I went to a Dharma talk last week, given by Zen Master Wu Bong.

The marketing by the KYCL centre was a bit mixed up, I think. It only mentioned a talk on the 20th of December. It turned out that there was a Dharma talk on the 19th as well, and the session on the 20th was really meant as more of a Q&A. Master Wu mentioned that on the previous night there were very few people but many questions; on the 20th, many people but few questions – not surprising, really!

Master Wu teaches through telling stories, which in some cases went over the heads of some in the audience. There was, I think, a pretty eclectic audience; some who knew very little of Zen, some who knew a lot. Of course, what we take away from a Dharma talk like this depends very much on what we take into it. On this occasion, I was struck hard by his teaching that Zen means finding your true path in life, and striving to follow it. What your true path is, is something each individual must choose. In response to a question from a Caucasian (German?) woman, he stressed that it’s not about “feeling” what your true path is, it’s a matter of actively choosing it and then living it and following it with commitment.  The founder of the Kwan Um school movement, Zen Master Seung Sahn, says something very similar in one of his books, perhaps The Compass of Zen. I’ll have to check my copy again.

This got my attention, because I have to say that I’ve recently been feeling intensely insecure about my future direction. As you know, I’m heading off to Beijing in February, and I’m looking forward to it very much. The fact is, though, that it’s for a short-term contract, and I really don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, or where I’m going to be living. I’m very much concerned with trying to “find my path”, after my MBA didn’t help me to make the career transition I’d envisaged.  Over the past couple of weeks, this has been worrying me a lot. The key takeaway was that Master Wu really emphasised finding the right path, and sticking with it regardless of the difficulties. Find your true self.

Through coincidence, or karmic destiny, I found myself a few days later browsing in one of the second-hand bookshops in the Bras Basah complex. A couple of books almost jumped out at me. One of them was The Buddha, Geoff, and Me by Edward Canfor-Dumas. I’ve seen it before on the shelves at Kinokuniya, but wasn’t tempted then. A quick flick through the pages, though, and I bought it. I even got an unexpected discount on the marked price! It could have been written for me, in the situation I’m currently in, and I got through it in an evening. I’ll give it a couple of days to percolate through my subconscious, and then I’ll read it again. There’s a lot of down-to-earth wisdom, and very recognizable characters in this book! It’s actually a novel, written in a memoir style; at first, I was taken in, and though it actually was autobiographical.

These two events have actually been pretty helpful to me, as they have resonated so strongly with things that were already on my mind, and ideas I was already juggling with. How to actually turn these into a path I can follow? That’s the challenge for 2008…

Oh, and to answer the question that was on my mind, Master Wu Bong is not a monk. In the Kwan Um school, both lay people and monks can be Zen Masters.

5 years

I arrived in Singapore on December 20th, 2002. I only expected to be here for a year.

Five years! Five years! Five years! *

Five years ago today I had no idea that taijiquan could really be used as a martial art. I’d never seen baguazhang or xingyiquan. I’d never been to China, and could only speak a word or two of Mandarin. I was about the same weight I am now, ie over-. I’d never meditated.

I think that over the next few days I need to reflect deeply on what’s happened in those five years, and on my plans for the next five. Reckon there’s some big decisions coming up…

* h/t Grosse Point Blank

Pan guan bi, lesson 2

More to learn tonight, and as a class we’re collectively showing signs of difficulty remembering the moves; some are visibly struggling. Well, it’s an intensive course, we knew that, but it’s still a lot of ground to cover. There are a lot of people there, over 30, and it can be difficult for some to see what’s being demonstrated. We’re in rows, with Mi Lao Shi on one side, and Ge Lao Shi on the other, so that as we turn there’s always one in view. They take it in turns to guide the class; I sometimes get the feeling that there’s a certain battle of wills over who gets to lead when and for how long

I make sure I get to stand in the first rank, near a teacher; since I can’t understand the spoken directions, I have to be able to see the demonstration clearly. It so happens that both lessons so far I’ve been nearest to Mi Lao Shi, who I must say is a good teacher; she speaks slowly and clearly, demonstrates the move from different angles, and is generally very clear to follow. I hadn’t met her before, and I’m impressed. Sun Lao Shi gave a talk at the end; other than that, he didn’t take an active role in tonight’s class.

Before I go on, let me just remind you all that this is a learner’s blog, not an expert’s view. As I go through classes, I try to make sense of what I’m experiencing, and to work out what it all means. Sometimes I just get it wrong, and I look back later and think “how stupid” – as I’m sure more experienced martial artists do when they read some of what I write. Well, never mind; at the end of the day, I’m just trying to get better.

So, that said, Stephan asked me what I meant in the last paragraph of my last post, so here are some thoughts I had while I was on the bus after class.

The taijiquan I practise is all Yang-based, so it’s pretty slow. I start by trying to be empty and soft; as I move, I’m alternating between full and empty, hard and soft. When I’m yielding, there’s an element of force ready to be expressed; when I’m expressing force, the ability to yield is present. The way weight, energy, etc, are used is like the taiji symbol: ying becomes yang, yang becomes yin, all part of an integrated whole.

With the bagua needle, I feel that the point of each needle seems like one end of a bar of energy. The bar’s energy changes. Each move represents a hexagram of several bars, depending on how the points and body are moving. Are the points moving in the same direction, or in opposite directions? In a straight line, or circling? Horizontally, or vertically? In parallel, or diverging? With the turn of the body, or against it? Arms, upper torso, legs, all moving the same way or in different ways… Each move thus has several “energy components” – full yang, full yin, changing yang, changing yin… Lots of small circles, and combinations of planes, all rapid and compact… Opening joints, closing them…kou bu bai bu…

In my mind’s eye, there’s a flickering effect as these different elements combine, fly apart, recombine in a different order… it’s like getting a small notebook, drawing one hexagram on each page, and then flicking rapidly through the sequence from beginning to end.

Does that make any sense? Basically, my experience of taiji and bagua are both about the interplay of yin and yang. Taiji does this with the body integrated as a whole; bagua needles does it as a combination of lots of smaller components… I’m sure I’ll be corrected by those who know better – which I welcome, and appreciate – but for the moment, this is how it’s making sense to me…

Lessons from random surfing

I’ve been doing a bit of surfing tonight, following up various bagua links, and found some very good stuff at a site I haven’t seen before: wudanginternal.com.

The first is a YouTube clip:

I have to say, this reminds me of my training with Master Zhou, who is all about application, and really knows about the real-life use of bagua. (The main difference is that I’m nowhere near as good as the students in this clip!).

The second find is a quote from wudanginternal’s FAQ section:

‘There is a famous martial art proverb”When your kungfu is good, finding a better teacher is not as good as visiting your martial art friends”.

This is profoundly true: I owe a deep debt of gratitude to my fellow-students, without whom I would never have benefited so much from what my masters have to teach.