I have written two posts about the unexpected long-term (and slow-to-realize) benefits of Taiji. I was going to write a third (this post), and while that is still the nominal plan, I want to focus moe on my teacher in this post. Or rather, how I got to the point where I trust her implicitly when it comes to Taiji.
When I was in my twenties, I was a hot mess. I make no bones about it or try to hide it in any way. Nor do I sugarcoat it. I was deeply depressed by the time I was seven, and I didn’t see the point in living. College was a pivotal time for me in many ways, both bad and good. That’s when I realized that I had several isms to deal with (racism ‘coz Taiwanese, sexism ‘coz woman, and homophobia ‘coz I was bi, but that was after I realized I was bi–which took some time in and of itself), not to mention family dysfunction.
It’s the latter along with undiagnosed mential health issues that really fucked with my head. I was disassociative when I was in my early twenties, but didn’t realize what was happening. I’m pretty damn lucky I didn’t seriously hurt myself or anyone else during that time because it happened as I drove on the freeway, too, which was the worst.
I had many arguments with my mother because I stubbornly insisted on actually telling her important things to me while I was in my twenties. I believed the trope that mothers were all-loving and cared deeply about their children. It took me many decades to deprogram myself, and I’m not quite there yet.
I’m telling you all this because it was Taiji that helped me with the family dysfunction. My teacher has said more than once that she hopes that we never get into a fight. I do, too. But she always added that it’s beneficial for real life, too. She said that while we may neve have to fight off an enemy, we probably will have to fight through a crowd.
I have difficulty with my temper. I can keep it under control for the most part, which is better than me not realizing I had a temper in my youth. Because I had it drummed into me that I was not allowed to show any negative emotions as a kid, I stuffed my anger waaaaaaay down deep inside.
Once I was able to acknowledge my anger, I felt it so deeply and comprehensively. I had a lot to be angry about, and it was a struggle not to show it all the damn time.
Taiji helped with that as well. Some people look askance at practicing martial arts, especially for female-shaped people. Oh, it’s ok as long is it’s for your health. Taiji is often depicted as someone gently moving their hands in the air in a very meditative way.
This is most definitely an aspect of Taiji. It can be so meditative and good for your mental health (in general). However. It’s still a martial art, with my own emphasis on martial. That means combat. That means weapons. That means…not anger, but physicality.
When I used to be on Twitter before it became a complete shitshow (though, to be fair, the reason I quit using Twitter was not because of what that asshole did to it, but it certainly didn’t help), I would wax rhapsodicalyl about my love for the weapons. Inevitably, women would tweet back at me and chide me for my aggression/appetite for violence/fighting.
This is all them, by the way. And it shows how socialized women in America (middle class women) are to be ‘nice’. I put nice in quotes because it was more, ‘sit down, shut up, take shit, and look pretty’ than anything active on the part of the women themselves.
Part of feminism for me was realizing that part of the patriarchy was to get women to teach other women the proper way to act to promote the patriarchy. Yes, even women who are ardent feminists are steeped in the sexist beliefs that are pushed in our country on a daily basis.
Here’s the thing. Taiji, especially the weapons, is how I deal with my anger. I am, like the Hulk, always angry, but I’m able to keep it mostly under control (though it’s harder since my medical crisis). Taiji (and now Bagua) is the way I deal with the aggression/anger. It’s a great safety valve so I don’t blow shit up (metaphorically). I can put all that negativity into my practice and let the winds take it away.
One thing I noticed about Bagua is that I feel much more aggressive when doing it than when I do Taiji. It’s very different in that anything goes, and you go on the offensive whenever you can. There are no rules, and if you need to break bones, you break bones. Taiji can be nasty, too, yes, but it’s meant to be more reactive. You take what’s given to you and redirect it.
My teacher told me that in China, if someone knows you practice Bagua, they will be very wary of you because they think you’re dangerous. Which, I have to admit, I’m not averse to. That’s the whole reason I started studying Taiji! So that I could back up my hard attitude with actual ability.
Back to my teacher. I have apologized for being a shitty student back when I first started. She always laughs it off and says that she welcomes any questions, but it had to be wearying. I would question everything she said and demand evidence for why it worked or why I should do it. She took it with great stride and, more importantly, complete honesty. She would tell me the answer if she knew it. She would tell me she didn’t know if she didn’t. More importantly, though, she would look it up or ask her teacher so she could give me an answer.
She never showed any impatience when explaining things to me, and she took no offense at me being so skeptical–or saying things like, “Fuck Taiji!” I don’t remember why I said it, but I remember saying it once. She also said I once called one posture the George W. of the form, but I don’t remember that. It sounds like something I’d say, though.
That’s all for now. More in part four!