I have been studying Taiji for over fifteen years. Yesterday, I was writing about how I did some light sparring with my teacher in our last private lesson. And how much I loved it. I am still in the midst of realizing that I am not a newbie any longer nor someone who simply studies Taiji. In class today, everyone was on Zoom because it’s been snowing (yay! Three or so inches. It’s not much, but it’s sure pretty). The other three students who were in class are all newbies to novices. It’s interesting to see them for once because it reminds me of when I was a newbie.
It’s hard to know what you don’t know, of course. And I still have major issues with my form such as having my hands too high andnot bending my knees. I’ve had my teacher give me refinements because it’s hard for me to see what I’m doing wrong, obviously. I’m not looking at myself as I practice and even if I were, I wouldn’t necessarily see what was wrong. When you do the same thing over and over and over and over again, you don’t necessarily notice the flaws.
It’s similar to how when you’re editing your own writing, you may not see your mistakes. That’s why it’s always better to have someone else editing your work for you.
I don’t know why it is that me re-learning the Fan Form is what has made me realize that I was not a dilettante any longer. I think because I was no longer just floating from form to form, dreaming about what I would do next. Instead, I made a concerted effort to clean up the forms I knew. For whatever reason, that took it from me practicing Taiji to me being serious about Taiji.
Yes, it took me sixteen or so years to get there. What can I say? I’m a slow learner. Actually, the issue is the opposite of that–I’m too quick a learner, so I take it for granted that I can learn things easily. When I can’t, my mind rebels.
It doesn’t help that my upbringing is within the Taiwanese culture, which is very strict on good and bad (what is which and what the standard should be for good). It’s either an A+ or an F. There is no in between. I have tried to move beyond that, but it’s hard. I still feel like I’m failing at life for many reasons, and it’s something that I don’t know if I will ever escape completely.
My mother sometimes laments the fact that I don’t tell her anything. Well, that’s when she’s not dumping her problems on me–which, admittedly she’s doing every time she calls. About two decades ago, she blamed my therapst for putting a wedge between her (my mother) and me. she’s not wrong that my therapst helped me individuate, but she’s wrong in blaming my therapist or thinking it was a bad thing*.
What my mother never accepted was that she was not a safe person for me to tell anything of importance to. I can talk about the weather with her or anything on that level. Going deeper than that, though, is not advisable, and she will hold it against me at best and wound me psychically at worst.
Side note: I hate the concept of forgiveness, especially since in the current Christian zeitgeist, there doesn’t seem to be much room for repentance before the forgiveness is granted.
What I mean is that there is a heavy emphasis on forgiving the sinner without more than a wave of the hand at the idea that maybe they first have to earn said forgiveness.
I mention this because in interpersonal relationships, if someone fucks with me, then I will remember that. If that person shows no remorse, then I will be wary of them until they act like a decent human being.
I mention this because my mother will do the same thing over and over again. knowing it will annoy/hurt me, and still do it. She did it while she was here after my medical crisis. She would dump on me about my father for a half hour, apologize and say she knew she shouldn’t do it, and then do it again. I finally angrily told her to stop apologizing because she was just going to keep doing it.
Which she did.
Sigh.
The biggest thing that really slammed home the message tha I should not tell her anything important was during that same visit. Three or so days after I got home from the hospital, I was picking up my weapons and seeing if I could move them around. When I realized I still remembered the Sword Form (and did the first three movements with the child sword Ihave), I excitedly mentioned it to my mother and showed her the movements.
I saw her face change, and I knew that I had made a mistake. She scrunched up her face like she had eaten a lemon, laughed in the way that I really hated, and said, “Oh, how…cute.”
I can’t convey how much contempt she had in her voice nor how stupid I felt for opening up to her. I knew better; I really did. She could not handle even the slightest suggestion that I was not uber-feminine in every way (I am a complete disappointment to her), and loving weapons certainly was beyond the pale to her.
That was the last time I told/showed her anything of importance. Now, I truly know better. Taiji is so important to me, I don’t want to associate it with the intense rage I felt when she said what she said so disdainfully.
Most of the time, I am resigned to the fact that she and I will never hve a real relationship. I know better than to think it’ll ever be different because she’s too old at this point. She is on the last leg of her journey here on earth, and she is even more conservative/right-wing/uber Christian than she was twenty years ago.
I , on the other hand, am even more liberal than ever. I am about as lefty as you can get, even if I don’t talk about it. That went far afield as usual. I’ll be back tomorrow.
*Strenuously avoiding the impulse to rant about my family dysfunction because I have done it so many times and it’s not the main point of this post.