I’ve been teaching myself the left side of the Solo Form because my teacher’s teacher believes that it’s a good way to bolster the knowledge of the right side of the form. I should have done this years ago, but I’ve been dragging my heels. Why? Because even after all these years, I still don’t like the Solo Form very much. It’s not something I like to admit, but I find it boring for the most part. The more applications of the postures I learn, however, the better I like the form. I’ve made a dedicated effort to practice the Solo Form during my daily routine, and I’ve gotten better at it, even if it’s still not my favorite thing to do.
As I’ve said several times before, the minute I picked up the sword, I was hooked. It was my jam, and it was completely intuitive for me*. I zipped through it like nobody’s business, feeling confident the whole time. It’s still my favorite form, and I practice it every day. About a year ago, I decided to teach myself the left side of the Sword Form before I knew the whole left side of the Solo Form. We did the first section of the left side of the Solo Form often enough in class so that I felt I knew it fairly well, but when we did the second section, I was completely lost. I don’t have a problem knowing my right from my left, but I do have a problem with directions. In fact, my brother and I used to argue when he gave me directions to some place new. He would tell me east, west, north, and south, and I would tell him that was meaningless to me. I needed right and left, and he said, “What if you miss the exit and have to turn around?” I retorted, “Then I’ll flip left to right and right to left in my brain!”
Why is this pertinent? Because in the Solo Form, when I’m doing the right side, I’m comfortable enough that I can pretty much do it in cruise control (though I shouldn’t. Part of the benefit of taiji is teaching mindfulness). It’s a road I’ve traveled a million times before, so I don’t need to really think about in which direction am I going. When I switch over to the left side, my brain starts short-circuiting, and any postures I’m not completely confident about on the right side, I get confused over on the left side. It’s one of the reasons teaching yourself the left side is a good thing–it shows you your weaknesses on the right side. I find that if I’m struggling with a posture on the left side, it’s one of a few things. Either it’s a posture I consider easy on the right side and I haven’t really learned it, or it’s a posture I’ve been fudging and pretending I actually know what I’m doing when I don’t.
Do you want to know what the hardest posture for me to learn on the left side of the Sword Form was? Fishing Posture, which is the easiest posture in the form. It literally is just a pivot and an arcing of the sword. It’s a finesse move, a prick to the ankle, just to get the opponent’s attention. I feel quite elegant when I do it–until I tried to learn it on the left side. I’d been breezing through the left side up until that point (15 postures), and I thought I would learn the Fishing Posture automatically. It took me two days to teach it to myself, which is by far the longest amount of time I needed for any posture. The left side of the Sword Form was painless to learn, and I felt good as I taught it to myself.
Back to the Solo Form. If I had a problem with a posture on the right side, it was easier to teach myself the left side of the same posture because I had put so much effort into the right side version. Except for Cloud Hands, which is by far my least favorite posture in the entire form. My classmates find it funny because it’s one of the easier postures and the one that is shown in Hollywood movies because its easy to teach. In addition, it’s easy to make it look like you know what you’re doing with it; it looks flowy; and it’s what people think of if they think of taiji at all. I. Hate. This. Posture. LOTS. It’s been difficult on the left side because the arms are quite similar to the right side, but the feet are the opposite.
Funnily enough, the kick section (in the second section), which is the hardest section for many people, is my favorite section of the whole Solo Form. I just finished teaching myself the left side, and it was easy-peasy. For whatever reason, it just sings in my brain, and I intuitively know what to do.
Side note: I took dance lessons for twelve years when I was a kid, which is probably why the kick section was easier for me than it is for many people. Unfortunately, other things about dance, especially ballet, has been detrimental to learning taiji. A perfect turnout of the feet in ballet should be at least 180 degrees, meaning both feet are cranked completely out to the side. Ideally, you’re able to turn the feet further, meaning they’re pointing backwards. After many years of ballet, I can turn my feet roughly 235 degrees out and backwards, but I have a difficult time turning them inward. Anyway, in taiji, there are several postures which require the feet to be parallel, which was not comfortable for me when I first started learning taiji. One of the best tips my teacher gave to me in the early years was when she was teaching me the Repulse Monkeys. For this posture, you need to step backwards with your feet parallel. I was having a bitch of time doing it, so she told me to think of placing my foot down with my heel pointing outward. That worked in my brain for some reason, and to this day, I’m able to do the Repulse Monkeys properly.
I’m on the third section of the left side of the Solo Form, and I’m pleased that one of my favorite postures, Parting the Wild Horses’ Manes, was easy to learn on the left side and just as soothing to perform. I’m currently up to the Fair Ladies, and my brain once again shut down. I think I’m going to have to dedicate more than a few days to learning it. Back in the second section, I was stoked that I taught myself Fist Under Elbow fairly easily. It was my bete noire while I was learning the right side of the form, and my teacher likes to recount how I used to call it the W. (as in George W. Bush) of postures. However, going from that to the Repulse Monkeys was fucking me up. I’d end up with the wrong hand in front by the end of the Monkeys, and I had no idea how I was getting there. I thought I was counting incorrectly because there are five in a row, and they are the same on both sides, just one more of either the right one or the left one depending on the side. I wasn’t counting wrong, however, and I spent fifteen minutes doing the right side of Fist Under Elbow and then the left side, convinced I was doing something wrong. I wasn’t, though, so I didn’t know what the problem was. After more time, I finally figured out that I was putting the wrong hand forward for the first Repulse Monkey.
It took me way too long to figure out what I was doing wrong, but when I finally did, it felt really good, albeit with a tinge of shame. I didn’t just give up, but I persevered until the light bulb clicked in my brain. This is actually the main point of the post, and, yes, it took me a long time to get here. Even though I don’t particularly care for the Solo Form, I learned it fairly easily. The basics, I mean. I have an aptitude for it, which is not necessarily a good thing. The downside to learning things easily is that when I come up against something that is difficult, I quit. I remember the first time I tried badminton. I was terrible at it in part because I played tennis, and badminton is the complete opposite of tennis. I was embarrassed as I whiffed hitting the birdie again and again and again. I felt stupid and I was sure everyone was laughing at me. I refused to play it ever again because I hated how it made me feel.
In addition, I don’t take much credit for being able to learn things quickly. I learned that one of my taiji classmates got frustrated when we learned the Sword Form because it came so easily to me. I felt bad that he felt frustrated, but more to the point, I didn’t even take pride in learning the form quickly because it wasn’t through an effort on my part. It was just so natural to me, I almost felt as if I learned it by osmosis. Same with the left side of the Sword Form. I can’t take credit for learning it because it just came to me.
Now we come to the left side of the Solo Form, which has not been that easy to learn. I will say it’s not as hard as I thought/dread it would be, but it’s not as easy as the left side of the Sword Form was for me. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, which is why I was dragging my feet in teaching it to myself. I finally just had to force myself to learn it, and it helped that I started with the first section, which I already mostly knew. The way I taught it to myself was that I started at the beginning and went posture by posture until I hit one I couldn’t do. Then, I’d break down that posture until I learned it, sometimes doing the right side version of it so I could see what I was doing wrong.
As I said, the first section didn’t give me much problem at all, but I got stuck on the first posture of the second section. One additional wrinkle to the situation is that my teacher’s teacher has changed several of the postures, and I’m still trying to incorporate the changes into my practice. They’re not all automatic yet, so trying to make the switch from right side to left side in my brain has the added difficulty of remembering the changes. As I said earlier, I’m on My Fair Ladies (Fair Maidens Weaving at the Shuttle), which is one of the most difficult postures in the form. There are four of them with 1 and 3 being similar and 2 and 4 being the same. Each of them has been changed by my teacher’s teacher so that they’re easier for newbies. I understand that, but I prefer the old way to the new. Anyway, this feels like it’s going to be a major sticking point for me. We did this section (left side) in class on Monday, and when we reached the Fair Ladies, my brain started pinging all over the place.
I’m determined to learn the rest of the left side of the Solo Form, though. Hopefully, it’ll teach me to endure when things get difficult, which is a lesson I can take with me into the other areas of my life.
*OK, not completely, but 97% intuitive.