My tai chi teacher asked me recently why I continue to train in martial arts, and what I want to get out of my training.

I told her, “I just want to keep training.”

There are endless mysteries to uncover within tai chi training. Uncovering mysteries and feeling a deeper sense of connection with the world are why I train.

She said, “Well that’s good. You’re not saying that you want to have ‘power over’ something, which is why a lot of people train.”

I felt in that moment like I’d passed a little test. Like I’d said the ego-free thing to say, and that it had come from a true place. I felt a buzz of contentment.

Partly, though, my answer came from a place of injury. I had to stop training in my last art because I kept getting physically hurt. Plainly put, my partners and I were hitting each other too hard in the name of toughness. I saw how our training was beginning to break our bodies. How some of my former teachers had had major injuries and were needing joint surgeries. I suspected some of these surgeries were necessary due to years of grinding bones in unhealthy ways.

In my new art, I have found a practice that offers more healing than harm. So when I said to my teacher that I just want to keep training, I was also speaking to longevity in the martial arts. If our art breaks us, we will need to stop our art. If our art heals us, we are allowed to continue practicing.

I don’t want to be broken. I want to keep going.