Striking
I finally got something last night. Or perhaps, I finally clarified it to a point where I can get it. But I had that moment of zen, an instant of clarity that lasted no more than three shakes but sets off the chain reaction that creates an enormous impact.
There is something about physical contact with another human being. There's a weight to it, an impact that goes beyond the boundary of physical space. In the instant of contact, there is so much that can be learned, so much that can be shared, and we somehow instinctively know this. Physical touch brings with it intimacy, and yet it is easy to seperate that aspect of it from the physics of it all when it comes to learning a martial art. There's so much focus on moving correctly, on analysing the kinetic chain from ground to target or, at a slightly higher level, on focusing the energy and intention on that point past the target so that you strike through the surface. All of these things are correct of course (which is why they are so common), but it neglects that there is something to the target itself. It is not a stone or a piece of wood that I am striking and those things don't hold much interest to me. It is a person, and even as warrior (perhaps especially as a warrior) I find people to be quite interesting. I touch them all the time, but what do I learn? Am I listening? Am I connected and seeking the intimacy of touch at the very moment of impact?
I can be. A strike can be, in a unique way, like the caress of a loved one. At the very moment of impact, I can feel every hair on the skin, the very texture of the flesh. I cannot do this every time, or even most of the time. But it can be done. And this is perhaps the meaning of ting jing, the energy of listening. It is the reason for the power behind Tai Chi, that subtle thing that makes the difference between master and student. And now I have felt it.
I gained something last night. Maybe it's not something to "get", to own and have and not let go of. Maybe it's more like a horizon, clearly recognized, always there, and yet it makes no sense to talk of being on it from one's own perspective.
There is something about physical contact with another human being. There's a weight to it, an impact that goes beyond the boundary of physical space. In the instant of contact, there is so much that can be learned, so much that can be shared, and we somehow instinctively know this. Physical touch brings with it intimacy, and yet it is easy to seperate that aspect of it from the physics of it all when it comes to learning a martial art. There's so much focus on moving correctly, on analysing the kinetic chain from ground to target or, at a slightly higher level, on focusing the energy and intention on that point past the target so that you strike through the surface. All of these things are correct of course (which is why they are so common), but it neglects that there is something to the target itself. It is not a stone or a piece of wood that I am striking and those things don't hold much interest to me. It is a person, and even as warrior (perhaps especially as a warrior) I find people to be quite interesting. I touch them all the time, but what do I learn? Am I listening? Am I connected and seeking the intimacy of touch at the very moment of impact?
I can be. A strike can be, in a unique way, like the caress of a loved one. At the very moment of impact, I can feel every hair on the skin, the very texture of the flesh. I cannot do this every time, or even most of the time. But it can be done. And this is perhaps the meaning of ting jing, the energy of listening. It is the reason for the power behind Tai Chi, that subtle thing that makes the difference between master and student. And now I have felt it.
I gained something last night. Maybe it's not something to "get", to own and have and not let go of. Maybe it's more like a horizon, clearly recognized, always there, and yet it makes no sense to talk of being on it from one's own perspective.