Underneath my yellow skin

More about Taiji (and Bagua) and me

I can talk about martial arts for hours on end and never get tired of it. In class today, we went overc the Fair Ladies, which is something I’m struggling with on the left side. It’s in the beginning of the third section of the Solo Long Form, and it’s something that my teacher’s teacher has recently tweaked. He has changed two of the four Fair Ladies into Master Choi ones rather than Master Liang’s. In the previous form, all four of the Fair Ladies were Master Liang’s. Oh, by the way, the movement is called Fair Ladies Weaving at Their Shuttles so you can see why I call them My Fair Ladies. Or not. It could just be my brain.

I realized in teching myself the left side of the form that I have been fudging the new Fair Ladies. To be fair to me (heh), I was taught a completely different form a decade-and-a-half ago. They were awkward and overly elaborate, and I was just never comfortable with them. Then, they were changed about a decade ago to be much more streamlined and simpler. They were all Master Liang’s Fair Ladies, which were purely for health. Now, there are two of his (for health) and two of Master Choi’s (for combat). They are much more intuitive, but I have not yet gotten them into my body. Why? Because I practice the third section much less than the first two.

One really good thing about teaching myself the left side of any form is that it makes me clarify the squidgy parts of the right side of the form. Funnily, there are a few movements that I do better on the left side than the right, but they are few and far between.

The third section is roughly 17 minutes, which is longer than the other two sections put together. It’s natural to practice the first section the most, then the second, then the third. And it’s natuaral to fudge things when they’re fuzzy in the memory.

I filmed my teacher doing the first section a few weeks ago. I have that section down pretty well. I’m going to film her doing the second section soon, and I know that I’ll have problems here and there with that section. Then, the third section at some point. I asked if I should start with the third section because it’s the one I knew the least, but she said it was fine to start with the first section.

Now that I’m done with the Fan Form, I’m going to spend the next few days polishing it. Then, it’s the Karambit Form. In yesterday’s post, I talked about how I had to go into detective mode in order to figure out what I was doing wrong in one specific part of the Fan Form. How I kept missing what the teacher was doing even though I studied (I thought) her very carefully. Even when I was looking at her right hand as she caught the fan, I was looking at the fan and not her hand.



It still shocks me that it was as simple as a reverse hand. And she signaled that it would happen a few postures back when she had also reversed her hand, but it was simply to flip the fan the other way and not as part of a toss. Once I figured it out, the movement itself was easy. All the fog and confusion dissipated when I knew where to look.

I can’t tell you how pleased I was when I figured it out. I simultaneously felt like a genius and incredibly thick. How could I miss it when it was so obvious? Of course, like anything, you don’t know what you don’t know. And it’s only obvious when you know the solution.

I’m still a bit embarrassed it took me fifteen to twenty minutes to figure it out, but I’m trying to let that go. It’s part of the process and all that. At least that’s what I try to tell myself. And, weirdly, I can actually believe it now. When I first started, I would have just been mouthing the words my teacher had told me. I didn’t believe it then because I was raised with the idea that to make a mistake was to fail. Dying (twice!) and coming back twice has lessened that reaction quite a lot, but there was still some of it lingering in the back of my brain.

Taiji has helped me a lot with this. My teacher is very positive about us making mistakes, and she emphasizes that it’s only to be expected. She does not make a big deal about them, and she says that it’s better to keep on going than to focus on the mistakes. I have a classmate who likes to talk about how she messed something up. Which, ok, fine fto mention once. But she’ll keep harping on it, which is what my teacher does not want. She also doesn’t want us to focus on how we used to do things because it’s harder to adapt to how we’re doing things now if we’re constantly comparing the present forms with the past forms.

For whatever reason, I have been able to take her advice to heart as I’ve re-taught myself the Fan Form. I have not admonished myself for forgetting chunks of it nor for making mistakes here and there. In fact, I was rejoicing that I had correctly rememberred roughly 75% of it, more or less. And this is new for me. I’m so glad I have embraced re-teaching myself. It makes me optimistic for me teaching myself the rest of the Karambit Form and brushing up on my Double Saber Form.

In searching for a video of a Fan Form to include with this post, I found out that there is a Double Fan Form, too. I mean, I suspected there would be because why not? But finding a few videos on it stirred something inside me. This was to be expected as well, but I didn’t think it would be so strong. I love the Fan Form. It’s the form I really wanted to learn because I can carry around a fan with me without causing suspicion (unlike a sword or a saber).

I have joked with friends that I would like to buy one with sharpened tips so I can dip them in poison. I’ts a joke, yes, but that was actually what spurred me to want to learn the Fan Form in the first place. I also thought it would be cool to have a poison ring. I wouldn’t use either with poison, but the concept appeals to me.

The Fan Form has become one of my favorite. It’s so beautiful and delicate. Understated and yet showy in a way. You’re making a statement when you crack that fan open and holding it aloft. It’s funny because I consider myself agender right now (it’s extremely complicated), but I feel as if I’m tapping into a deep well of femininity (or yin if you prefer) when I do the Fan Form. And you know what? I’m fine with that. More than fine.

I still feel powerful doing this form, but it’s not as warrior-like as it is with the saber or the double sabers. Or the karambit. This is more subtle and stealthy. And, as I said, it can be showy and florid if you’re doing it for a performance. It’s a wonderful form, and I’m grateful that I returned to it to make sure I am doing the most I can with it.

 

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