So, I took the job. And I bloody well worked there for over 3 months. How did I find it? It’s easy to reflect on it in hindsight, once I have space to be myself again. But what was it like actually doing it? Not what it meant, but how it bodily felt. Once I’d had the ‘AHA’ moment in Kerala that life is so much simpler and more beautiful than we make it out to be, once I’d started to connect with the Earth, open myself up even a fraction to the depths of beauty and love and understanding that it can hold for us…how did I feel walking into the purpose-built ‘offices with character’ that housed my new company?
I frequently felt as if I had the top layer of the whole front side of my body peeled away, exposing me raw and vulnerable to a place no human was designed to live. I think you have to significantly close down your senses and emotional world in order to survive in a place like that. Certainly, my thoughts on being shown to my desk on the first day were, “What the absolute fuck am I doing here?”. So divorced from nature, no natural light, a screen that blocks out my whole vision, strip lighting…it is genuinely painful to remember it. I think that’s why my words mainly came in poetry for this one, somehow it softened the blow.
I made myself promise to keep noticing all the beautiful wonderful things all around me in the natural world while having this job, and in the end, I couldn’t do that and stay in the damn job. Maybe other people can. Or maybe they’re better at numbing themselves in order to survive. Maybe I’m a highly sensitive person, and maybe I’m just on a different spiritual path.
Hopefully, the poems below will help share my experience of the actual job, and why I found it so important to leave, not just from aversion but also from a strong calling to do what I came back to earth to do, not just doing what was expected from me (by myself and others.)
A slight light
Warmth of a covering
Numbly growing stronger
Cars rumbling by with death on their tail
Punching you in the nose and throat
Gritty tarmac beneath your pedals
Arrival. Revolving doors.
The stultified wind of the air-conditioning
Barely raising a clammy sweat.
Stale air damp with human endeavour
Too warm from bodies and electrical hum
Rivers and lakes reduced to spirting taps,
Wind roaring down the valley no more than a hand dryer.
Scrapping water off your hands
A plant would die here.
For how long?
Clash of the generations
It’s been said before
The heavy weight
Dragging down on your mouth
‘How are you’s’ imagined, but never spoken
The clash of the generations.
One man’s burnt opportunity
Another’s honest hard work
You don’t understand hard work
Flitting from job to job
It wasn’t easy for me you know
Not hard work is it?
The world slipping away
The ground unsteady
And us finding a way
Over the rocky precipice
and I’ll try and come back with something,
But will you listen?
Can you hear the ground rock?
The shards of your life being swallowed
Oh, it might see you through
But not me my friend.
This is our crisis
And we feel the weight of the world turning
We feel the thunder in our hearts
And talk of decisions in our minds
And the wildness of our soul
Too long unheard.
Silenced with answers,
when only listening was needed.
Silenced by men,
When I was needed
Silenced with Degrees
And little white pills
The only true abundance I see
is in the blossom at spring time,
Yet that is shut out 9-5
Remember, we can’t manufacture trees
We rape and we steal and we get in debt
And you say, carry on? I’d be crazy not to?
Why, if you try something, and I doesn’t work…surely the only madness is trying the same thing again a generation later?
There has to be a better way
And yes, thank you, I’ll try and find it.
I feel it, you know
The cool terror in the pit of my stomach
Of Monday’s not yet visited
Iron around my throat
Custard in my belly and
Drumsticks playing on my temples.
I feel too the rising in my heart
The spacious abandon of want
Gobbling up the pine scent of the hedgerows
On the way to some less precarious version of sanity
I’d thought, while I was travelling, I had a foolproof plan, and when I came back I would simply implement it. But on the train to Leeds for a job interview I was outrageously not qualified for, with a landslide of my own doubt about whether I actually wanted the job, or indeed ANY job, the plan was in shreds.
I’d thought it was a genius idea to become a part-time Healthcare Assistant. Get on the ground experience of the NHS I could use when I became a Healthcare Designer. I couldn’t wait to get started, I googled possible jobs in my friend’s bedroom in South Korea unable to put my phone down, too excited to sleep.
But when it actually came to trying to apply, I couldn’t do it. I found a suitable position and I started writing my application, but it felt like I was selling such a heavily pruned set of skills, it wasn’t ‘me’ anymore. I wasn’t particularly qualified for the job itself, and to even apply to the job I had to side step the vast swathes of skills I actually do have. And somehow, I left the cafe and never applied.
I cried out in joy when I found out about the Healthcare Design Masters course. This was IT! And yet a few weeks after accepting my offer, I pulled out…£10,000? It’s not going to get me where I want to be.
Admitting I didn’t have a clue
On a windy, reasonably warm day in March walking down the canal…I admitted to myself I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t know what would bring me joy. I didn’t think I had all the answers anymore. My grand plans were in tatters. I didn’t get what I wanted, but far more serious than that, I started to question if I wanted it. I had a job offer on the table that should have been ideal. Not my number one dream job, but a good solid place to start. And I was terrified. I strongly didn’t want the job. It made me feel trapped.
Throughout that whole day, I fantasised about running away from this life. Living in a tent, possibly nomadically camping on the hills or on a friends land. Doing yoga outside every day. Being connected with the seasons. Having the time to do ceramics. Something about it felt really right. I was overloaded. I was on the threshold. I went through the motions of the day and was amazing I didn’t collapse. I told my housemates I had some decisions to make. I hoped it would be clearer in the morning. I cried openly and piteously in bed.
Taking the job
The first thing I thought was ‘take the job’ but I didn’t know what it could mean. I’d basically refused the only job offer I had. I started to consider life without taking the job…Time had been marching by, and I’d have to start the process of leaving my nice house if I didn’t find a job within the next week or so. I couldn’t justify the rent. Sure, I could live in a tent. I could move back in with my parents, but what the fuck else would I do then?
I called my parents, they said I’d be crazy not to take the job.
I rushed upstairs and accepted the job. I felt relief. Taking the job was much less scary than charting the unknown darkness of my own uncertainty and forging a new life from scratch. I wasn’t ready to live without the certainty of a career yet. The job would be a wind barrier to protect all the young shoots of yogic and Mother Earth centered endeavour which I knew were ultimately so much more important.
Taking the job freed me in that moment. But it was also a promise, to myself, that I will get everything set up so that when a year swings by and the spring shoots are shooting up, my spring shoots, with a full year of growth behind them, will not be stunted by a propagator they have outgrown. They will feel the wind on their bodies and, still gently sheltered by my savings, they will learn to stand on their own two feet.
Two conclusions of the job search
The real one? I don’t want a job. Any 9-5 will not allow me to devote myself to discovering my true power, listening and responding to the depths within. Office jobs were created by patriarchal capitalism and nothing within them will solve the problems we face today. They encourage imbalance and are perhaps the primary source of distraction and disconnection in the world. Sticking people in a large climate-controlled room in front of large screens is inhuman. It rips us away from our birthright, our connection with the natural world. The only way to survive is to put a tranquilliser dart through the pain and numb ourself to the experience. My prayer for myself was: may I survive.
The nice a tidy and the one everyone is expecting me to have? Two years isn’t much experience. This is a great job to get some really solid experience at an established company so you’ll be able to get exactly the type of job you want next time. You were just aiming too high too soon. A year is the minimum you need to really learn something in a job, stick it out and in less than a year you can be applying for jobs with a stronger “social good” focus and get your dream job. Today new job, tomorrow the world.
Maybe both of them have truth in them. One has more power. Maybe I’ll be strong enough to say yes to the dark unknown next time.
So, they said that coming back after travelling was going to be hard. But I was ready. I wanted to go back. I was eager and I had a plan. And coming back was wonderful! I could do my yoga practice every day, it was great being with my family again and I started teaching yoga (semi) regularly for the first time and really enjoyed it.
I actually told myself I wouldn’t start seriously hunting for job until after the New Year (I got back in late October) to give myself time to readjust and focus on yoga but somehow job opportunities seemed to be falling into my lap. I went to a ‘Hackathon’ (a two day event where you quickly design a build a new digital product) and through that a really exciting opportunity at a well respected company seemed imminent. My dream design agency met me for coffee, and finally I experienced what looking for jobs when you have experience must be like. Looking for jobs had been horrendous right after I graduated but with 2 years solid experience under my belt, it was going to be a breeze. I worried about how I would choose if I got offered both.
Panic sets in
Then somehow January and half of February happened and I still didn’t have a job. What had gone wrong? The hackathon job was still rumbling on, no sign of a decision in sight. And at least I’d got an interview for that one, I’d been rejected for many other similar roles: “We know you’ll be disappointed but…”. The coffee turned out to be an informal chat.
I started to look at my original Tier 2 companies with longing. What wouldn’t I give to be working there. I wish I’d applied earlier. I’d already turned myself into a User Researcher and an Interaction Designer, now I was to be a Content Designer and a UX Researcher. No one understood that I was ALL OF THESE THINGS AND MORE. Actually, if anything, I’d like to be a Service Designer, so there.
The single most bizarre experience of the whole thing to date is mindlessly sending off my CV to nameless recruiters advertising an “exiting UX opportunity in a fast-paced design agency in the city centre”, wiping the tears off my face as I despaired if I’d be able to find anything. Moments later, weeping into my pillow in what I can only hope is the lowest moment of the job search (it wasn’t).
…Only to be woken up from my afternoon nap to a chatty guy named Dave who thought he might have a job for me. I was still feeling slightly dizzy whenever I went to the loo (I had a virus all week), but I chatted animatedly to Peter (“Oh me? I single handedly turning around the fate of my company through UX design”) and he thought he might have a job for me. So did James and Nigel the next morning. Andrew even thought I had a great portfolio and thought I would fit in great at a company that didn’t try to make gambling more addictive and encourage rampant consumerism.
I was suddenly having real chats with real people who were chasing me about jobs and thought I was a bloody good prospect. It felt totally unsettling, absurd, bizarre and unbalanced, but not all together unpleasant. I felt a strong need for yoga, which I hadn’t been doing owing to being ill, and also the vague sense I was on the wrong path. How I had fallen from the high ideals of my earlier job search, of my passionate idealist self coming back home to change society for the better through design?
A sad reality
Interacting with the real world is hard. Being judged and found inadequate is hard. My expansive hopes and dreams were squeezed into so many different boxes, I wasn’t sure where I was anymore. I imagined so many different future realities, bringing UX design to the NHS by stealth and becoming a Project Manager, moving across the country, getting a minimum wage Healthcare Assistant job to get on the ground experience…it was exhausting.
What seemed so simple, dreaming my dreams in Rishikesh, turned out not to be. Coming back from travelling to the UK to the warm embrace of my family and friends was not hard. Re-entering the world of work was. And it was about to get harder.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about following your path. How much do you need to choose and push for everything? How much should you see what happens when you allow it to?
Perhaps rather rashly, I’ve recently moved to Manchester.
What have I been doing with myself since my last post I hear my loyal audience ask? I came home in late October to find it just as I expected, except people had more of their own lives and so there were slightly less lazy communal evenings in and slightly more evenings home alone while my parents jollied off to do Pilates.
But it was more or less lovely. I got straight into my daily morning yoga practice just as I’d been yearning for, discovered some local yoga classes I could volunteer at and throughly enjoyed good home cooking. In fact, it got me wondering how amazing reality is compared to your imagination.
Reality vrs. Imagination
Pretty much just before leaving Nepal and my year of travelling, I did a 10-day Vipassana course. My one sentence summary on it is: it wasn’t immediately life changing, in the way my first yoga teacher training was, but it’s a good solid technique that I’m finding myself coming back to and I’ll probably do another course.
Apart from focus on my breath and greeting all sensations with equanimity, which was the intention of the course, I did a lot of thinking and imagining in Vipassana. Oh my, those dreams were entertaining and alluring in a time of so little external input. I designed a whole range of non-alcoholic cocktails that are going to take the UK by storm, starting with my alcohol loving family. I even opened a bar. I was the joint CEO of a Healthcare Design agency, expertly balancing childcare and business priorities. I’m very productive when I’m sitting cross legged on a cushion.
But the even more amazing thing? None of what I imagined was as intriguing, unexpected, or wonderful as what actually happened. The detail to which real life goes into is exquisite. The literal second by millisecond scatching your head, feeling your heart sink, squeaking through the terrible seconds of anxiety. It’s really all there for you to see in full excruciating colour. And imagination zooms over that. Just like a dream, you’ve no idea how you went from juicing a cucumber in your parents kitchen to opening a trendy alcohol free bar. You’re just suddenly there. You don’t know how you came to be juggling childcare with your new job share partner at a thriving socially responsible company, you just find yourself handing your baby to an intern and you bustle off to an important meeting.
Just like a in film, you plop in at the important scenes but none of the down time is seen. None of the staring into space, none of the taking three hours to cook dinner and wiping down the kitchen surfaces. With real life, you are a part of everything and you have the opportunity to observe it. It’s so much richer than anything you could every imagine. The depth of feeling, getting to really interact with other people, and the complexity how out of the blue things can totally change your direction are beyond what our fantasies can give us.
After so much time imagining, especially during Vipassiona, but perhaps also during the whole of my travelling when I was often wondering what I was going to do when I got back, being back and experiencing the totality of what I actually did when I did get back was refreshing.
Observing your own life and tuning into the terrifying details of it also comes into the idea of following your own path. Observing, following, and listening, not making something happen, directing or deciding.
Following your path
So right now, I’ve moved to Manchester and I’m having an interesting time not being terrified of not getting a job. I easily could be, with rent comes the responsibility to earn. But I’m trying to be more present than that. Something’s brought me here. Somehow it felt right to look at houses in early Jan, somehow I found this amazing one and bloody jumped on the chance. Somehow I want to nest and settle. I’ve brought matching bedside lamps and a fancy kettle. I’m making a home. I’m bedding down for the next chapter of my life, for which the travelling was just a prelude, and it’s here in my wonderful new bedroom with room for morning yoga that I’m doing it. Somehow, that’s what I needed.
So I’m trying to stay alert. That’s where not watch TV comes in, you might miss things. You have to be looking…what do I need to be aware of now? What should I be working on? What’s important? What’s happening right now and how I can do the thing this moment wants from me? How can I listen, how can I hear the next steps?
The intention for my yoga practice for the last few days has been: ‘May I be open for the next step in my path’. May I come to it with an open heart and through that be living the most powerful manifestation of my life. May I have a sense of childlike curiosity about what form my life will take.
Before I started travelling, I was reasonably worried I wouldn’t like it. The only other time I’d really been travelling on my own, when I was 18 and travelled through Croatia and Albania for two weeks, I really hadn’t enjoyed it. I had been borderline terrified the whole time, although of course I wouldn’t have admitted it to myself at the time. The bit I enjoyed the most was getting lost in a book on the long bus journeys…not perhaps a good sign.
I was older and wiser now, having spent a decent chunk of my adult life abroad, so much better equipped to deal with myself. Still, the only previous time I’d spent a large chunk of time far away from home, when I spent 3 months in New York, I’d been frankly surprised at how much I’d enjoyed it, and even then I’d been fairly homesick and hoping time would go faster by about half-way through. So in many way expecting to enjoy long term travelling was fairly outrageous, and yet I did. I genuinely enjoyed myself. I spent 6 months far away from any ‘home’ and yet had some of the most heart warming and clearly ‘belonging’ experiences of my life.
I think the key to my success is I spent the majority of my time in India slow travelling, I spent at least a week and often longer in each place, rather than ‘fast travelling’ as I attempted to do in China, where I moved every couple of days. When I planned the first part of my travels I had the dangers of not enjoying it clearly in mind, so I planned to spend the whole first month with a built in community and purpose on my 200h yoga teacher training course. It worked brilliantly and I made life long friends on the course who I could also travel and meet up with for the rest of my time in India. I kind of let the rest of India ‘happen’ without too much planning and so the slow pace continued.
Somehow though, the joy of travelling in India lulled me into a false sense of security so I’d lost my (valid) fear of not enjoying travelling by the time it came to planning China. Also, I think the time pressure of a 30 day max stay visa (dual entry) and also the pressure of trying to ‘understand China’ which is so much less visited by Westerners, encouraged me to try and see more. To my downfall. Now, I had some lovely times travelling Yunnan and Sichuan, but they were surrounded by plenty of feeling out of place, lonely and homesick times and segwayed by some stressed, confused and worried times.
Ultimately, I don’t really get the point of fast travelling. The benefits of slow travelling have been clearly laid out of me:
You get to meet amazing people who share your values and you can support each other in living the kind of life they want
You get to learn amazing things from amazing people about concepts and practices that might not be common where you come from
You get to question what is ‘normal’ by experiencing other ‘normals’ that are different from yours.
But you don’t really get any of that from fast travelling. You move too fast to make good friends and form a community, you’re not there for long enough to really learn something, and your already gone before the weird things you come up against seem normal. Fast travelling, it seems to me, you see more, but you experience less. It makes for better Instagram posts, but less learning. You get more of the less fun bits (long bus journeys and arriving in a new place which no idea where to stay or eat) of travelling, and less of the good bits. Frankly, anywhere that you don’t want to spend longer than a few days…why go at all?
This was clearly something I already half knew, hence why I got it so right in India, yet something I did forget when planning my China trip, which I one of the reasons I’m writing this, so I can hopefully reassure any budding slow travelling that their choices are valid and give them strength to resist the lure of fast travelling!!
I breezed through 6 months in India and a week in Hong Kong without a thought in the world of going home. That’s not quite true, I set off on this trip knowing I’d come back within 11 months of setting off – I didn’t want to miss Christmas at home. I also knew I wanted to come back home and settle down, I just needed the time and space to think about what I wanted to do with my life first.
So it was always on the horizon, but until my last day in China, it was in the distant future, something to long term plan for, but not something to contemplate in the here and now. My month travelling China was hard, I was lonely and struggled with the transportation and food. I’m not really built for fast travelling, moving every few days, and after an adult life including not inconsiderable portions of loneliness, I’m ready to be surrounded by people I love on a fairly constant basis. So, China was hard, but I was still up for travel in general after a month of it, just in places that had English menus and speakers.
On the last day in China though, I started to feel I might have done what I set out to do, and that changed things. I’d had the chance to think about what I wanted, I’d had the space to dream and I’d kinda decided what I wanted to do. I’d also learnt more than enough yoga to keep me occupied in my personal practice for the next few years. If those we my primary aims of travelling, decided what I wanted to do and learning tools to help me do it, I’d done them! What then, what the value it carrying on travelling?
Then a week later, after my two day Buddhist temple retreat in Korea, some of the details began to solidify and I became even more sure. Just before I’d gone, I’d re-googled the masters program I was thinking about and found the details really fit into the rest of my plans. Those seedlings began to populate my mind whilst meditating by the sea, and when I got back all I wanted to do was phone my friends and family and let them know my plans.
A wise friend cooled my ardour and advised me not to make a decision before I had to. How I feel now is a product of this specific context and after my Tai Chi and meditation course, two things I definitely wanted to do before I left, it’ll be a very different context and I might feel differently. Fair enough. But she also gave me a tip – the masters I want to do is in Healthcare Design and for it I need a job in healthcare to give me frontline experience. But I’m not qualified in anything healthcare related – how can I get a job? Easily it turns out, there are lots of unqualified ‘Healthcare Assistant’ jobs out there which prompted hours of scrolling though potential jobs dreaming of helping adults with learning disabilities live their daily life or assisting on a mental heath ward. Each new thing I learnt helped to flesh out my idea of my plans for the future and my excitement was palpable.
That’s what really changed my mind. The idea of going back home and starting to persue my dreams became more exciting than travelling more, even though that would be doing amazing things like hiking the Annapurna trek…I started to feel like it’s just a long hike. Back home I get I set up my daily yoga and meditation practice and see what it’s really like to do that day in day out, it allows me to start finding clients and seeing what the yoga teaching scene is like back home, it allows me to start getting settled in my new home and it allows me to start getting experience in healthcare and perusing what I think could be an awesome career for me. All from the comfort of where I grew up, surrounded by family and friends and home cooked food. What more could you ask for?
I thought when I left I wanted to settle down, and travelling has confirmed my belief. When I was young the only things I wanted to do was get as far away from what I knew as possible, going first to London, then Eindhoven in the Netherlands, and then New York. After graduation the thought of living in the country I grew up in wasn’t so abhorrent and so I moved back to London, but still thought of almost anywhere else in England as a barren wasteland. But now it’s time to go back to Cheshire. I actually think of it as bursting with possibility and opportunity now, which just goes to show how much more important your mindset is than objective reality as I assume the North West of England hasn’t fundamentally changed in th last 5 years or so.
How much travel is right is different for each person. Some people never hunger for it, others never get sated by it. But for me, I did hunger, but now I am full. I’m half way through dessert, and might just have some room for a few chocolates and a decaf coffee, but then I’m done. I’d rather save the rest of my travelling (I’m thinking of going back 2 months earlier than the longest I’ve thought of staying out) for when I really need it, and will really relish it.
I signed up for the Tai Chi and Meditation course at Maling Shaolin Academy on a bit of an impulse. In retrospect, I didn’t do a whole lot of research about it. Don’t worry, I enjoyed it immensely, but it wasn’t quite what I imagined.
Firstly, Tai Chi is a martial art. I know, seems obvious right? I’d actually never done Tai Chi before, but I had done Qi Gong a few times, mainly with the lovely No Mi and Dawa from Wobbly Spoon who I met in Dharamsala in India. I thought, in my total innocence, that Tai Chi was a bit similar. However, Tai Chi is a martial art, Qi Gong isn’t. Tai Chi is about fighting people, Qi Gong isn’t. Qi Gong is actually more comparable to yoga – not in the moves at all, but in that it’s purely about moving energy around the body to improve your health and wellbeing. Tai Chi also very much does that, but you can also use it to throw someone to the floor.
Now, it might be worth mentioning what type of Tai Chi I was doing, as different styles can have very different approaches. The wonderful Master Ning at Maling Shaolin Kung Fu school taught Chen style Tai Chi, and while I was there we were learning the 18 basic steps. As I understand it, it’s a more external style focused on the applications in fighting than the more popular Yang style, which is probably what you have an image of in your head if you think of Tai Chi.
Secondly, it’s mainly a Kung Fu school. There are only about 20 students (I arrived at the end of the busy summer period) and most follow the Kung Fu schedule, which includes lots of fun stuff like jumps and rolls, conditioning (hitting yourself over the head to make yourself tougher) and power training, as well as three lessons a week of Kung Fu forms. The three of us who were doing Tai Chi while I was there joined everyone else for warming up, Qi Gong and power stretching, but the rest of the seasons (12) were all learning the Tai Chi form, aswell as 5 morning session which also worked on the same form. Absolutely perfect if you want to work on your Tai Chi, but you can feel a bit left out when everyone else is talking about the rewarding pain they felt hugging a tree in power training.
Once I realised what I’d got myself in for though, I was still really glad I came and got a lot out of it.
Firstly, I loved the schedule. God, how I love a good schedule. I loved the yoga teaching training for that, my time in the Ashram and okay I could have done with a bit more free time in Sadhana forest but…schedules are awesome. For the two weeks I was here, I woke up at 5:30am to meditate for half an hour, then went straight to the mornings Tai Chi lessons. Then it was breakfast and time for about an hour of chilling. This is what I love about a good schedule – the time in between. Time to read a bit, to relax, to do some admin, to sleep, just in the middle of the day. Bliss.
Then we all went for a 2km run to warm up and I went to Tai Chi while (almost) everyone else went to do Kung Fu. We did an hour training, then another half hour blissful rest, then another hour training. By lunch time you’ve already done most of the days work, a great feeling. After lunch we do another 2km run (or a 4km one on Thursday and a 10km one on Friday) and another hour of training. Then your free! There are optional classes in other marital arts styles Monday and Tuesday, but I took the chance to do my yoga practice – another awesome thing about being here was I had the time and space to do yoga after a 2 month break of hiking and travelling where I was hard to have any sort of routine. Which brings me to my next point…
Everyone here was really committed and motivated so it was the perfect atmosphere to physically train yourself. In the evenings, everyone was practicing their Kung Fu forms so it felt totally natural to do some extra training, even though I chose yoga myself. People are really here to improve them self, get fitter and be more in control of their own power so it really helps you on that journey too. Thank you guys!
Another good thing, the actual Tai Chi! I found learning the forms very challenging and demanding, it’s a whole new language for your body to learn so it can feel completely unnatural and you have to wrap you brain around a lot of new things. Have you ever though how the power from you feet travels up you leg, and turns you hip in order to generate power in your fingers? No, me neither, until someone made me do it in a Tai Chi class. Your hip, arms, fingers, back and facial expressions all have to be doing the right thing and it takes time to learn it. The super super cool thing though is once you’ve learnt it, even just a little bit of it, you can start to visualise how the energy is passing through you, you can feel the energy sinking down to you feet or staying in your dantian (an area below your navel).
I’m just scratching the surface but this seems to be something that the Chinese traditions have a lot more of than yoga, really directly working with your energy/life force, which they call chi. People seem to worry about the exact translation and meaning of chi, but it seems very similar to the concept of prana in yogic philosophy. I imagine is as a flowing substance in my body, and I’m totally willing to believe it’s the same force that creates trees and tarmac. There are a lot of clearly awesome things in Daoist philosophy, I dug into it a little more reading the first half of ‘Decoding the Dao’ by Tom Bisio while I was here.
These two weeks got me thinking out of my comfort zone. Naturally, I’m more of a ‘Yin’ person when I comes to exercise, I find it hard to push myself that much, I tend to being slow and careful and my yoga practice is very meditative. But being surrounded by the hard Yang of martial arts is pushing through that, which I think is very balancing. I’ve thought previously I need a strong Yang practice if I’m going to develop my Yin yoga practice – too much Yin isn’t safe without the Yang to support it. Physically, if your connective tissue get too loose by stretching it out and you don’t have the strength in your muscles to support your flexibility, you open yourself up to injury. This experience has given me a good idea of what a good Yang practice could look like – the 2km run is definitely something I’d like to incorporate in my own practice, as is the stretching to help us do the splits, and I already know I’m going to look into doing some sort of ‘power training’ when I get back home to build my strength. My actual thoughts while being here was, this is amazing, the focus on improving yourself, the simplicity of the schedule, the support of your Kung Fu brothers and sisters, but I’m not sure martial arts is the skill I want to train, what I’d really love is to be better at ariel arts like hoop or pole…watch this space!
Last but certainly not least, the people here were warm and friendly right from the beginning, all on their own fascinating journeys, and it was a pleasure to be able to get to know a few of them in my short time here. It certainly cured me of the ‘where are all my fellow intrepid travellers?’ syndrome I’d felt in much of the rest of my travel around China. They’re all here, learning Kung Fu. If you’ve ever wanted to learn martial arts, I’d definitely recommend joining them. Two weeks is about the shortest time you can stay, most people stay here at least a month and often up to 6 months or a year. The longest staying person the right now has been there for 2.5 years!