Well, the dust has finally begun to settle following the amazing-day-horrible-denouement that my E Dan and Kyo Sa testing day was. The passage of a few weeks, a long trip to North Carolina for Thanksgiving (in the car, with both kids and our dog Cinnamon, featuring torrential downpours while navigating our way, white-knuckled and convinced of our imminent collective demise, through the Great Smoky Mountains), and the return of Scarlett's cremains (in a lovely urn and monogrammed velvet bag with a small clay impression of her paw print ... sniff ... ) have helped me get some distance and perspective on the test, and I've begun settling into the beginning of the next stage of my training as best I can.
Now, there hasn't been a lot of "new" training so far, exactly. My instructor scheduled our promotion ceremony for the first Saturday in December (to coincide with the 10 year anniversary of the opening of the dojang) which was only 3 weeks after the test. With Thanksgiving smack dab in the middle, no less. So, precious little time to prepare for the performance aspects of the ceremony (have to create a vignette, write a bio, and also do additional demonstrations). Therefore, all training opportunities prior to last Saturday were dedicated to preparing my vignette. Hoping to learn some new stuff, perhaps my next new hyung (Lo Hai), soon.
Here's my vignette -- not too bad for something I had to throw together so quickly.
Meanwhile, the main thing that I've experienced is the pleasure of settling into and getting used to my new title, Kyo Sa ("certified instructor"). This is actually a much bigger deal to me that the new rank, and it's something I am still trying to get used to. Not that it really changes things that much: I still train whenever I can train, I still teach whenever I can teach. But I feel a lot more responsibility to get things right all the time than I did before, especially when teaching and demonstrating.
Having a title definitely raises expectations of the folks I train and teach, and I'm still trying to make sure I consistently rise to meet those expectations, and worrying that I sometimes fail to. For whatever reason I still sometimes tend to go blank when teaching some techniques -- a student will inquire about a specific one step or wrist grab, and I'll begin to address it and find that ... I just can't ... it's ... wait, wait, don't tell me ....
Most of the time, I get it right within 10-15 seconds. Occasionally, somewhat ... later. Sigh.
Now, to be fair to myself, even if I completely blank on something for a minute or so, once I settle down and clear my mind I can bring it back almost every time and then I'll work with the student to clarify any confusion I may have caused them. But I still tend to beat myself up about it for hours afterward. And frankly, I think I'm being kind of ridiculous about it. I've seen far more experienced instructors than myself, and far more gifted and experienced martial artists, flub technique or instruction on the mat. It happens. We're only human, right? Even me.
This is, again, a lesson I think. I'm not sure whether it's right or wrong to expect consistent accuracy and excellence from myself as a teacher. I think it's right to strive for, but if I get bent out of shape whenever I have a momentary lapse of memory or recall it's not really going to help the situation.
Regardless, these are the sorts of issues that only get fixed with experience. More time teaching. More time training. And since that's pretty much in my plan for the foreseeable future, I guess I should just lighten the hell up, huh? In the meantime, I'll just keep doing the best I can, getting things right as often as possible, fixing things when I get them wrong, and continuing to move forward trying to improve.
And if that's not an example of martial arts as a metaphor for living, what the hell us?
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
I Just Want Simple. Clearly That Is Too Much to Ask.
So, test follow-up.
Note, as a bit of a warning shot, that this has been a really, really awful week.
So, Saturday morning we awoke to discover that the friends that had volunteered to host the post-test part had 2 ill kids and needed to bow out. So, seeing as we were literally at the Last Possible Minute, we volunteered to just move the party to our place. 'Cause, you know, not enough else to worry about.
Shortly after we headed out to the dojang at about 9:15 to prepare for my kyo sa test clinic. Set up chairs, chatted a bit, welcomed people as they arrived, and then we kicked off the clinic (a bit late due to late arrivals, as is typical). My performance was a mixed bag: had some real problems with my white/orange belts that I had real hard time straightening out. Recovered somewhat, but not well. Green belt session went far better, but was cut short by the masters and Grandmaster in order to keep things on schedule for the remainder of the day. Not a total loss, by any means, but not what I'd hoped for. Comments from the kodanja and Grandmaster were uniformly constructive, if uncomfortably pointed at times. All feedback was deserved and accurate.
Grandmaster's clinic followed immediately after. The scheduled 1.5 hour clinic instead ran to nearly 3 hours as he attempted to teach a large number of red belts and dans a series of sword forms that are being integrated with our curriculum. Due to the large number of clinic participants, one 1/4 of the students could train on the mat at the same time for a to of the class (whacking each other with swords was an issue ...). Interesting stuff, but frankly it ran way too long for my tastes, especially given that I was still reeling from kyo sa stuff and trying to get my head back on straight for the test.
Following the clinic we are advised that there will be no lunch break and that we will go straight into the test. Grrreat. I wolf down a Powerbar and hope for the best.
Test goes well. Very well. About 6 hours total. I had no significant issues at all, Christine and Trevor did quite well too. I flubbed my break (jump split kick -- broke one board on the first try, then blew the jump double front kick follow up) but otherwise performed very well, Christine needed to redo her break as well, and Trevor needed to do some minor retesting. My friends and classmates all had good testing experiences as well. Spirits were good throughout the entire test. All in all a terrific testing experience, and far superior to what I experienced on my Cho Dan exam.
We wrap up and head back to the house, to prepare for the arrival of 2 dozen or so of our closest friends. Upon arrival, we find that our sweet old dog Scarlett, who has been ill with pneumonia and on all sorts of medication for a few weeks now, is having a tough time breathing. We are concerned, but assume it's just another episode, brought on by the stress of being alone all day. We resolve to just hold her throughout the night to try to keep her calm.
Party goes well. Having been advised that this was a very last-minute soiree, many friends arrive bringing beer, wine, food, liquor, etc. We have 3-4 hours of fun and chit chat. Folks leave by about midnight. Our pup continues to have many, many issues, her breathing labored and her overall demeanor ... not great.
I begin to worry.
We show our last guests out, then retire to the couch, resolved to stay up and get Scarlett calmed down after the hectic day. At 1 Christine takes her to bed, and I doze off on the couch. An hour later I head up to find Christine still comforting Scarlett, who is seeming worse than before. We discuss bringing her to the emergency vet, but decided against it since a) she is terrified of the car and I worry that the ride could make it worse and b) I've been drinking and would need to call my mom to drive us down anyway. I bring her downstairs so Christine can get some sleep.
I spend the next 5 or so hours trying to comfort her, dozing when I could. She becomes progressively worse, her breathing more labored, her behavior becoming more and more worrisome. At 7:30, after sunrise, I bring her up to Chrsiitne so I can climb into bed and rest for an hour or so.
At 8:30 I get up and make coffee. Scarlett is worse still. We begin to discuss that we might need to make some hard choices here, after over a month of trying to fix what initially seemed a simple problem. As Christine holds her and I pour our coffee ... she stops breathing. Christine cries out to me that she's dying.
I run across the room to them, and Christine holds her in her arms as I lay my head on her chest, listening to her heart beating, stroking her head and telling her it's OK, it's OK, let go little baby let go. Despite the other circumstances her heart, awfully, is beating strong and steady. I wish briefly IU had just given her all the pain medication we had in our drawer for her recurrent back injuries, but obviously it's too late now. She strains briefly, convulses 6 or 7 times, shudders a bit, then exhales gently, a raspy little rattle, and her hear continues to beat.
And as I listen, her heart stops. Then beats two or three more times. And stops for good. Our son, who was in the kitchen, begins crying a high, keening cry. Our daughter, who had been sleeping, comes downstairs and stands, stunned.
An hour or so later we drive her lifeless body, wrapped in our daughter's red cuddly blanket, to the emergency vet so she can be cremated. I spend the rest of the day utterly exhausted energy consumed by the testing experience of the previous day and my spirit crushed by 2 days of almost no sleep followed by this last, vicious little gut punch. As it is also my mother's birthday we have her and my brother's family over for pizza and cake. We commiserate and keep on as brave a face as we collectively could.
As they prepare to leave, the masks crumble. We cry quite a bit more. And then we go to bed.
We had her nearly 16 years, years before children, having bought her from a breeder shortly after Christine got a job with an attorney in Greensboro. We wanted our other dog, Raven, to have company. I remember driving home from the breeder with her, my hand resting on her back as she sat nervously in a shoebox on the front seat of my red Dodge Neon. She was about as big as my open hand. When I brought her home she and Raven chased each other around our apartment, jumping up onto furniture and then diving off in a mad dash. While chasing Raven Scarlett tried to dive under the coffee table from the couch and miscalculated, nearly knocking herself unconcious. She had worms, and ear mites. We briefly considered suing the breeder, then decided to just get on with life.
Raven died unexpected a few years later, at 7 years of age just after Halloween in 2000 as we were preparing to move from North Carolina to Texas, breaking our hearts.And 11 years later, just days after the anniversary of Raven's death, Scarlett leaves us. 16 really good years in total. Hearts broken once again.
Goddammit I miss her so much.
So, the test was really good. And I don't care so much about that right now.
I mean I know I did well, I know my family and friends did well. I just don't, you know, give a shit so much. I'd trade that day for 6 more months with my pup without flinching. Someday I guess it will feel better, and maybe I'll be able to finally feel some pride of accomplishment in our performance during the test, but right now I just can't access that whole thing. Right now, I just miss my little red dog.
Friday, November 04, 2011
Motive or Theoretical Basis and Characteristics of Forms
Note: This is the second of 2 essays I wrote as part of my test for Kyo Sa (certified instructor) in Tang Soo Do Mi Guk Kwan.
As a training method, forms serve multiple purposes. When learning a new form, the student first benefits from the strictly technical aspects of the forms training. Over time, as they gain greater understanding of the technical content of the form, the student is able to begin applying the form’s style or characteristics in order to expand their understanding of the form. And finally, once they have a solid understanding both of the technical content and the characteristics of a form, the student is able to begin exploring the artistic and “moving meditation” aspect of forms training as a method of deepening their understanding of the form so that they might begin using it as a tool to expand their awareness of the form as an artistic whole. Due to their challenging nature, depth and complexity, forms also provide an excellent opportunity for students to apply many of the 8 key concepts to their training and to better understand the 7 stages of learning.
Technical Content of Forms
The first stage of learning imparted by forms training is primarily technical in nature, and often serve as a way to train the body and increase discipline and focus as the student begins the process of learning by learning the movements from their instructor and committing them to memory.
Forms incorporate technique that students may have learned in class as part of line drills or, perhaps, in one-step sparring training, but chain these individual techniques into attack and defense sequences in a specific pattern. In doing so, students learn how to properly transition between different offensive and defensive techniques while advancing, retreating, or changing direction. As they develop these skills and gain better control of their body mechanics they will find that they are better able to redeploy and utilize sequences of movements that are contained within the forms as part of their sparring repertoire.
As students learn a new form, it encourages them to examine some of the 8 key concepts in relation to their training. Obviously chung shin tong il comes into play through the mental demands of recording and imitating, while in neh, kyum son, and jong gi can factor in as the student sometimes comes to realize how difficult this stage can be.
This stage of forms training also encapsulates the first 4 stages of learning: look with the intent to learn, listen with the intent to learn, recording, and imitation. Once the techniques have been adequately recorded by the student and they are able to accurately imitate what they have been shown by their instructors they progress to the next stage of learning, “practice, practice, practice”, which will enable them to begin to better understand the characteristics and nature of the form itself as a whole as opposed to the individual techniques and sequences.
Characteristics of Forms
Once the student has successfully recorded and is able to accurately imitate the form they have been shown by the instructor they can begin to explore the characteristics inherent in the form by practicing (and practicing, and practicing …) the form. Typically students have had the characteristics of the form explained to them (for example, the Weh Gung “externally directed energy” quality of the Gicho and Pyang Ahn forms versus the Neh Gung “internally directed energy” qualities of the Naihanji versus the Choon Gung “middle way” quality of the Chil Sung). However, until they have managed to record and are able to imitate the form they are not able to begin exploring these characteristics because their minds are typically preoccupied with technical execution of the techniques in the proper sequence.
At this stage the student begins applying additional key concepts to their technique – chiefly wan gup, him cho chung and shin chook as methods of accurately and correctly communicating the form’s characteristics physically. The characteristic of a form is typically best expressed thorough the correct breathing technique for the form combined with an understanding of the correct timing, speed, power, and rhythm of the form. For example, as students begin to understand the quality of a Pyang Ahn form they will adjust their breathing to be hard and explosive, terminating at he completion of each technique. Likewise, the individual movements of the form will be executed with intensity and power, while the overall form with move at a consistent – though not necessarily “fast” – pace, corresponding to the confident quality inherent in the Pyang Ahn.
Forms as Moving Meditation
Once the student has begun to sufficiently understand the characteristics of the form they are prepared to begin the process of applying their knowledge of the form in order to move toward the final stages of learning: first by achieving a higher level of awareness through exploring the artistic and meditative aspects of the form, and finally the acts of exploring the art and creating something new from what they have learned.
Frankly, this is the part where I feel I have the least understanding, or at least the least insight into the actual application of the principals. In preparing forms for demonstration and competition I have been able to focus on the overall artistic qualities of the form: trying to focus on line of sigh and presenting a line of beauty when executing the techniques, finding a rhythm and speed for various parts of the form that imparts the performance of the form with a greater dramatic impact and which emphasizes the characteristics of the form in an artistic manner, and working to give the overall composition a sense of beauty or integrity. I feel that these are aspects of achieving a higher sense of awareness of the form itself.
I have also found that once we have begun to understand and internalize the characteristics of a form we are able to begin “losing ourselves” in the form. This is when I’ve found the forms best exemplify the ideals of forms training acting as a moving meditation. This is only possible when we have so thoroughly learned technical aspects and the characteristic qualities of the forms that performing them becomes second nature, enabling our minds to operate independently of the actions our bodies are engaged in and therefore to better observe ourselves and our performance. And it is through this detachment and deeper understanding achieved through achieving higher awareness (true chung chin tong il) that we are able to truly grasp the fundamental qualities of these techniques and finally use them to create something truly new.
As a training method, forms serve multiple purposes. When learning a new form, the student first benefits from the strictly technical aspects of the forms training. Over time, as they gain greater understanding of the technical content of the form, the student is able to begin applying the form’s style or characteristics in order to expand their understanding of the form. And finally, once they have a solid understanding both of the technical content and the characteristics of a form, the student is able to begin exploring the artistic and “moving meditation” aspect of forms training as a method of deepening their understanding of the form so that they might begin using it as a tool to expand their awareness of the form as an artistic whole. Due to their challenging nature, depth and complexity, forms also provide an excellent opportunity for students to apply many of the 8 key concepts to their training and to better understand the 7 stages of learning.
Technical Content of Forms
The first stage of learning imparted by forms training is primarily technical in nature, and often serve as a way to train the body and increase discipline and focus as the student begins the process of learning by learning the movements from their instructor and committing them to memory.
Forms incorporate technique that students may have learned in class as part of line drills or, perhaps, in one-step sparring training, but chain these individual techniques into attack and defense sequences in a specific pattern. In doing so, students learn how to properly transition between different offensive and defensive techniques while advancing, retreating, or changing direction. As they develop these skills and gain better control of their body mechanics they will find that they are better able to redeploy and utilize sequences of movements that are contained within the forms as part of their sparring repertoire.
As students learn a new form, it encourages them to examine some of the 8 key concepts in relation to their training. Obviously chung shin tong il comes into play through the mental demands of recording and imitating, while in neh, kyum son, and jong gi can factor in as the student sometimes comes to realize how difficult this stage can be.
This stage of forms training also encapsulates the first 4 stages of learning: look with the intent to learn, listen with the intent to learn, recording, and imitation. Once the techniques have been adequately recorded by the student and they are able to accurately imitate what they have been shown by their instructors they progress to the next stage of learning, “practice, practice, practice”, which will enable them to begin to better understand the characteristics and nature of the form itself as a whole as opposed to the individual techniques and sequences.
Characteristics of Forms
Once the student has successfully recorded and is able to accurately imitate the form they have been shown by the instructor they can begin to explore the characteristics inherent in the form by practicing (and practicing, and practicing …) the form. Typically students have had the characteristics of the form explained to them (for example, the Weh Gung “externally directed energy” quality of the Gicho and Pyang Ahn forms versus the Neh Gung “internally directed energy” qualities of the Naihanji versus the Choon Gung “middle way” quality of the Chil Sung). However, until they have managed to record and are able to imitate the form they are not able to begin exploring these characteristics because their minds are typically preoccupied with technical execution of the techniques in the proper sequence.
At this stage the student begins applying additional key concepts to their technique – chiefly wan gup, him cho chung and shin chook as methods of accurately and correctly communicating the form’s characteristics physically. The characteristic of a form is typically best expressed thorough the correct breathing technique for the form combined with an understanding of the correct timing, speed, power, and rhythm of the form. For example, as students begin to understand the quality of a Pyang Ahn form they will adjust their breathing to be hard and explosive, terminating at he completion of each technique. Likewise, the individual movements of the form will be executed with intensity and power, while the overall form with move at a consistent – though not necessarily “fast” – pace, corresponding to the confident quality inherent in the Pyang Ahn.
Forms as Moving Meditation
Once the student has begun to sufficiently understand the characteristics of the form they are prepared to begin the process of applying their knowledge of the form in order to move toward the final stages of learning: first by achieving a higher level of awareness through exploring the artistic and meditative aspects of the form, and finally the acts of exploring the art and creating something new from what they have learned.
Frankly, this is the part where I feel I have the least understanding, or at least the least insight into the actual application of the principals. In preparing forms for demonstration and competition I have been able to focus on the overall artistic qualities of the form: trying to focus on line of sigh and presenting a line of beauty when executing the techniques, finding a rhythm and speed for various parts of the form that imparts the performance of the form with a greater dramatic impact and which emphasizes the characteristics of the form in an artistic manner, and working to give the overall composition a sense of beauty or integrity. I feel that these are aspects of achieving a higher sense of awareness of the form itself.
I have also found that once we have begun to understand and internalize the characteristics of a form we are able to begin “losing ourselves” in the form. This is when I’ve found the forms best exemplify the ideals of forms training acting as a moving meditation. This is only possible when we have so thoroughly learned technical aspects and the characteristic qualities of the forms that performing them becomes second nature, enabling our minds to operate independently of the actions our bodies are engaged in and therefore to better observe ourselves and our performance. And it is through this detachment and deeper understanding achieved through achieving higher awareness (true chung chin tong il) that we are able to truly grasp the fundamental qualities of these techniques and finally use them to create something truly new.
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