Dear Old Henry

When I was about 9 years old my mom and I took riding lessons at the double SS Oaks stable in a small Arkansas town. My mom was quite good and placed in several competitions. For a period of time I would come every Sunday for my lesson and each week I would find myself on the most ancient horse so gray he was, in fact, pure white. His name was Henry. Week after week Henry and I would plod around the arena in circle after excruciatingly slow circle. All the while, my teacher would nag me constantly about the position of my feet, wrists, hands, thumbs, chin and so forth. I became increasingly frustrated at my progress upon old Henry. One Sunday I gathered my courage and complained to my teacher that “this horse is too slow”. Much to my surprise, my teacher sent Henry into a bit of trot. Certainly we were not going at top speed, but by gosh we were finally moving! I was holding on for dear life, crying a little, and secretly happy to finally be going somewhere! Expect, of course, we weren’t going anywhere, just continuing in the same circle we had previously been plodding along in. A few weeks later, when I returned to gather Henry for our usual slow progression around the arena, Henry was gone. When I asked about Henry I was told he had died. Now I know I felt sadness for Henry, but I know I also felt excited to finally get the chance to ride a faster horse! Indeed, I was given a bigger, shinier, brown horse that appeared faster just standing there then Henry ever did in motion. This was to be my first lesson where I fell off the horse

When I arrived at FEMA my complete knowledge of martial arts included a 3 month period at a karate school, one PAWMA camp, and I’d seen Karate Kid many, many times. All I really knew is, I wanted to do super cool kung fu stuff. My first class at FEMA was in Monday night taiji. I was so happy to be training that I didn’t notice how slow we were going. After a little more than a year of training, the opportunity came to train in Shanghai, China. I couldn’t believe that I might get to go to China where I was sure we were gunna do kung fu movie stuff. Yes!! I signed up. This was to be the first time I would meet our teacher’s teacher, Shigong Alex Feng, and the 3rd time ever for me to ride in a plane. After some discussion between Shifu and Shigong, it was decided I would train in the Yang style taiji 24 form when we reached China. “Oh boy”, I thought as memories of Henry suddenly bubbled up, “now I’m on a slow horse to China!”

After 14 hours of my constant concentration psychically helping the pilot fly the plane, and what I consider to be pure magic, we landed safely in Shanghai. The next day I found myself in a large arena with the most spectacular gung fu action taking place. Shifu training in a twin dao (sword) form, Shijie Tina with whip chain, and there were countless other awe inspiring activities all around me. I, meanwhile, began with the taiji walk. This was excruciatingly slow progression as the teacher, Mrs. Zong, taught me correct placement of my feet, wrist, thumbs, hands, chin and so forth. Where was the form? When did I get to learn to fly around in bamboo trees? Would I EVER get to go any FASTER?! With dear old Henry plodding around in my memory, at least I knew better than to complain this time.


So okay, actually some of that gung fu stuff looked really scary. Also, there were bruises that were large and colorful. Ouch. Maybe I secretly started to be happy to be going slow, realizing that perhaps I enjoy the taiji walk more than flying around in trees. I mean, who am I kidding, I really do hate to fly. At the end of two weeks of training, which included an entire day of “Cloud Hands Hell”, I still wasn’t performing awesome gung fu. I did however, have a deep desire to continue training. I couldn’t wait to return home and learn more from Shifu.

Once we were home, I made a few discoveries. Like taiji class was often the only thing that would help me show up for Monday classes when I knew it was a judo night. Taiji became the practice that would renew my energy and set my foundation for attempting those fancy gung fu moves and judo throws. What happens when I’m trying to learn something that moves quickly? In order to feel success, I practice “taiji” speed for awhile. And lo and behold, quite often those awesome gung fu moves come from a taiji form!

The 9 year old me lost interest in horseback riding and never placed in any competition. But there’s an important gift I received from that short period in my life that has helped me immeasurably in my current training. I’m grateful that my days with Henry gave me the good sense not to whine about going too slow and to continue on even when I wasn’t getting what I thought I wanted. Now I can often recognize that I’m getting what I need at the time. Sure enough, it becomes every thing I’d like to have anyway. Thank you to all my teachers, and Henry, I hope I’ve done you proud. ☺

Respectfully submitted 7/6/08
By Airn Sheahan

Dominic has been right there supporting Anna at Judo on Saturday mornings for the last 4 years. It always amazes me how much he picks up on her lessons. Recently he drew his interpretation of a Judo roll. For a seven year old boy I thought he did a pretty good job!

-Stacey

Two more baby pictures

Myo-O

Shimei Naomi

Meditation on breathing

For many years, I've stopped once in a while to enjoy breathing. Sometimes I do this every day, sometimes I forget until something reminds me. I think youraverage person on the street would be baffled by this– what's to enjoy? It's breathing. Everyone does it.

The first time I thought of this, I had a bad cold,with stuffy nose, dry mouth, and aching throat, until it was unpleasant and painful no matter how I tried to breathe. I tried telling myself it could be worse –I've had asthma attacks where every breath was painful and my lungs were so tight I felt like I would suffocate. This didn't ease my misery really, but I decided that when I could breathe normally again, I'd take a minute to enjoy it. I needed to get through this cold until I could try this new idea. It sounded kind of weird, and I'm always ready to try some new, weird thing.
Since then, I've tried to remember to do this fairly often. Sometimes I just marvel at the easy, natural ebb and flow of air, in and out again.
Sometimes I take a big, deep breath, loving the way I can take in all the air I want, keep it for as long as I like, then when I'm tired of it, let it go and get some more.
And all this air is free! It's good stuff, too, not like when I was a kid. Especially downtown, I try to notice how the air these days is crystal clear and sweet. I remember when every car, truck, and bus had it's own little gray-brown cloud behind it. I used to hold my breath a bit when a bus went by, because they smelled so bad. All the pollution control and air quality laws passed in the past thirty years have had a tremendous impact. Nowadays, you could almost suck the stuff straight out of the tail pipes.
When I have a chance to lay down in the fresh grass, I sometimes think about our symbiotic relationship with plants. Exhaling nice, moist, carbon dioxide ladenair all over the grass, then inhaling the sweet,oxygen rich air the grass gives off in return. I hope the grass enjoys this as much as I do.
So enjoy breathing. Pay attention to the smooth flow,the natural way your body knows just how much it needs, and the easy availability of air. Take a moment to breathe freely.
Enjoy it.

-Jaqi

Below is one of my favorite quotes that I think is particularly relevant, especially in light of our recent discussions surrounding fear and diversity. It is a quote taken from part of Nelson Mandela's Inaugural speech in 1994. It's very sweet and I thought it would be nice to post on our blog.

- Shanna

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not in just some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Nelson Mandela
Inaugural speech, 1994