When Trump was elected president in 2016, I had a bit of a mental breakdown.
My daughter was a baby. On election night I thought we were about to witness our country voting in its first woman president. We didn’t. I cried. Instead we voted in a man who admitted to grabbing women by the crotch. I thought there was no way that our country could vote in a sexual abuser. I was wrong. I was terrified for my future and for my daughter’s future. During Trump’s presidency the news was so traumatic that I had to stop listening to it. My body was full of new-mom hormones and feeling things extra-deeply. I couldn’t be filled with panic and still be a good mom to my baby. So I stopped watching and listening to the news entirely. I let current events filter in to me through Weekend Update on SNL or my friends.
It’s election night again, and I’m terrified all over again. I pray to God that Kamala Harris wins, but I’m very afraid she will not. Earlier today I was stuck in a loop of hating myself for not doing more for Kamala’s campaign. The loop was frightening. Thankfully, though, I had scheduled a meeting with my therapist for today. She said that when the unthinkable might happen, or happens, one way that humans try to get control is to think “if only I had done this, then the unthinkable wouldn’t have happened.” It was helpful to hear that angle. That angle, knowing that my mind is just searching for control, is what is keeping me from re-entering that loop of self-criticism.
My therapist also said that whatever happens, it is important that we keep doing the daily work that is meaningful to us. That idea of doing meaningful work is keeping me tethered to the ground right now. I can still teach respect, I can still stand up for what I believe, I can still be a role model for the kids in my life.
I also still have my community. All around me there are people who hold the same values and beliefs that I do. I know that I am not alone.
This fall I’ll be teaching a six-week martial arts class for kids ages 5-10 at Ready Set Grow, a family-oriented yoga studio in my Portland neighborhood. I love teaching kids–they’re wildly unpredictable and fun to work with. I teach martial arts a little differently than other schools, so I wanted to take a moment to share how I teach and practice martial arts with kids.
Martial arts classes almost always start and end with bowing. Bowing or saluting is a tradition in every martial art I’ve studied, and I love it. When we bow we take a moment to show respect: to our teacher, to the school, to ourselves, to each other. I believe that if we showed this kind of respect to each other more often in our everyday lives, we might find ourselves in a kinder and more civil society. In martial arts class we get to practice living in such a society. The ceremony of bowing creates a container of respect and a little bit of formality–we’re having fun, but we’re also taking our practice seriously.
After we bow in, we take a moment to meditate. We may meditate seated or standing. We focus our minds, turn off our voices, and become one with our surroundings. Meditation helps us learn to regulate our bodies, minds, and feelings. A little bit of meditation practice at the beginning of class gives us a set point to come back to should we need a break.
Next we get moving. Our movement curriculum is a collection of strikes, blocks, kicks, and footwork patterns. We learn these through various games and exercises. While I’m interested in kids having the proper form for their strikes, I’m even more interested in encouraging them to move freely in their bodies. Many of the kids in my classes say they already know how to do the moves anyway–they’ve seen them on Ninjago or in Kung Fu Panda. Rather than deny what they know, I invite them to show me, then I make minor adjustments to improve their form if necessary. I also invite them to make up their own moves and fighting styles. After all, all the moves I teach them were made up by someone else along the way.
We also touch on a little self-defense. Kids tend to express their emotions through their bodies naturally–they haven’t yet learned to regulate their feelings all the way, or to hold them in to be polite. As much as possible, I want kids to keep this connection to their bodies. This ability to listen and express our feelings helps us when it comes to self-defense. When our gut is telling us something is off, it is our job to honor that “off” feeling and set a boundary. In our class I teach the kids how to say “no,” effectively. “No,” “Don’t touch me,” “I don’t want to play right now,” “I don’t want a hug right now.” When kids learn to stand up for themselves and their personal boundaries, they can go through the world feeling safer and more confident.
Once we’ve done our movements and games for the day, once we’re done fighting each other with pool-noodle swords, we take 5-10 minutes to write in our training journals. I started having my kids journal during our last class series, and we all ended up loving it. At the end of class kids have a major dip in energy–the little ones get pretty tired, so journaling gives us a way to decompress. I like to write a little bit about what I learned in that day’s class, but the kids tend to draw pictures of themselves fighting with swords. I like how this helps them solidify their self-image as a fighter, as someone strong. They love telling me about their drawings, and on occasion have even written sweet notes to me in their journals (I feel so loved!)
And so, I’m grateful to be teaching this course to kids once more this fall. The kids keep me on my toes, and they keep my teaching fresh. I’m excited to find out what I’ll learn from this next group of young martial artists.
Wuji standing meditation is the foundation of the martial arts and healing system I teach. “Standing is everything,” my teacher Sana will say, over and over. When we stand we aim to release tension in the body and connect deeply with the earth. Being in tension limits our possible movements– if the arm is full of tension, it can’t punch quickly and efficiently. When we can allow for the release of that tension, not only in the arm but in the entire body, we can open up to the possibility of seemingly effortless, multidirectional, flowing movement.
But before we move, we stand. In standing we’re listening for our cleanest, clearest, alignment between heaven and earth. The depth of our connection with the earth relates directly to how much energy we can allow to flow through us, and therefore how much power we can issue in our martial movement. Standing position is quite specific, so I’d like to list some of the fundamental ways we are aiming to position our bodies in Wuji standing.
Here we go! Feel free to give it a try as you read:
• Bring awareness to the lower dantian, the energetic center below the navel and deep in the body. By allowing our awareness to rest here instead of in our head, we begin the journey of felt embodiment. Standing is all about feeling and allowing, not thinking and doing.
• Feet are hip-width apart and parallel, toes pointed forward, weight even on the feet.
• Ankles are opening in all directions.
• Knees aren’t locked: have soft energy and awareness at the backs of the knees.
• Hips are “sitting in,” as though there’s a little bicycle seat right behind you that you’re sitting on. The lower back opens and the front of the belly closes. The hip flexors open. This “sitting in” position allows for the body to connect deeply into the legs, the feet, the earth.
• We allow the kidney area to be full. This can be the most elusive aspect of standing for newbies– I know it was for me. Before I started practicing standing, I didn’t even realize my back could be full or empty. I knew my stomach could go in and out, but not my back. This is where practicing with a partner can be very helpful. Your partner can place their hand on your back, over your kidneys, and invite your back to meet their hand. Listening for how to fill the kidneys can take some time, but it will make all the difference in the connection between the upper and lower body.
• The sternum rests in to the pelvis. That is, we don’t want the chest up and out, we want it softly rested in and down.
• Arms are resting loosely at the sides of the body. We can change the arm position in standing, but having the arms loose is a nice place to start.
• The chin is rested in to the heart, not jutting out. The throat is soft.
• We imagine the goddess Quan Yin is above us in heaven and is holding a golden thread that attaches to the bai hui point on top of our head. We imagine that our skeleton is dangling from this thread.
• We are listening behind, attending to the space behind us. Often we are so focused on on what is in front of us, what is ahead of us, that we are pulled out of ourselves and into the action. The focus of standing meditation is to be fully present in ourselves and in the present moment. Listening behind increases our awareness in the present.
• Eyes are gazing at the horizon–we allow the horizon to come to us.
• A soft smile is on the face. We allow ourselves to enjoy standing.
How we stand determines how we experience life. Are we leaning forward eagerly when we stand? Are we pulling back and away? Do we shift our weight nervously? Are we trying to appear in control, in charge? Are we in our heads and not even aware of how we’re standing?
When we stand still we can listen in to the messages our bodies are sharing with us. Where are our emotions living in our body? Where are we holding tension? Where are we out of balance? When we can bring awareness to our tension and imbalances, we can begin the journey of letting go of them.
In standing we aim to increase awareness, expand consciousness, and rest into presence. We can practice standing for long stretches at the park or for brief moments in line at the grocery store. We can take what we learn in standing directly into our everyday lives and into our relationships with others. What a nice practice to have in our embodiment and self-awareness toolkit.
Earlier this week I co-hosted Markstravaganza, a martial arts party in the park to practice with my old training buddies, the Marks. One of the Marks, Dr. Mark, moved to California years ago, so we don’t see him very often. Back in the day, he was one of the people I trained with the most in Mo Duk Pai kung fu — he and I had a similar voracious hunger for training, so we ran stairs and did sprints and punished ourselves with endless burpees for the sake of self-improvement. He was also my ride to class for many years, and he would drive us there in his black BMW convertible–almost always with the top up, even on sunny days.
Once Dr. Mark and I got to brown belt, Lawyer Mark started training with us too. He was a little ahead of us in the ranking, and we loved training with him. Soon the three of us were training together every Friday morning. The three of us would go to our martial arts school, the Academy of Kung Fu, and have the place to ourselves. I would put on music and we’d warm up, then we’d jump into whatever we wanted to work on. We sometimes practiced forms or curriculum, but more often we would practice partner exercises: push hands, multi-mans, knife defense drills. And then we’d always do some sort of terribly brutal CrossFit workout at the end.
The Marks & I circa 2013. We are always game to take a silly photo together.
I loved those Friday mornings. Since those practices existed outside of the structure of regular class, we had the freedom to explore what interested us. We would check in with each other to see if anyone wanted to work on anything in particular, and then we’d follow whatever curiosity or interest someone proposed. None of us was in charge, and I have to say, we did a great job of sharing leadership, working together, and keeping the spirit of play alive.
We were kung fu explorers, looking to learn more just by loosening up, playing, trying things. Personally, I was looking for moments of kung fu magic. Magic to me meant those moments when my body moved without me thinking, when some deep internal instinct in me would come out and do the perfect offensive or defensive move without conscious thought. When the art would express through me instead of me doing the art.
I found many moments of kung fu magic on those mornings with the Marks. They were always just as excited about those moments as I was. The attitude was, “Wow, that was cool, let’s try to do it again!” We became better martial artists together because of those mornings. Our teacher, Sifu Kyle, said to me, “Those practices you are doing on Friday mornings, they’re making a difference in your training. It’s great that you’re doing that.” I loved hearing that my teacher noticed we were getting better.
We kept those trainings going for a while, perhaps a year or two. They ended when I was about six months pregnant with my son. I stopped training in Mo Duk Pai soon after that– the sleep deprivation that came along with having a new baby sapped my energy, and the heavy contact level at our school was no longer safe for my wobbly postpartum body. The Marks continued to train and both earned their black belts, then their second degree black belts. I felt sad to leave Mo Duk Pai, but I ended up finding a new teacher and system that was a better fit for me. My new system is full of internal arts magic and safer for my body–no heavy contact. But my new system is small and the practitioners are spread out– our teacher lives a ten-hour drive away and I see her in person once a year.
Fast-forward to now, my son is ten years old. Over those ten years I’ve often felt lost as a martial artist. For many years I didn’t have the community of a traditional school to support me. I felt a bit like a ronin, a wanderer, a lost martial soul. I sought new community but couldn’t find one where I fit in. But then the loveliest thing happened. I reconnected with an old Mo Duk Pai training buddy, Sifu Michael, who is now a black belt with his own school. He invited me to teach in his school, and I’m now back in the Mo Duk Pai fold. Even though I no longer train in that art, my Mo Duk Pai friendships have persisted. The years of training bound us together deeply.
And so this year’s Markstravaganza felt a bit like a homecoming for me. The Marks and a bunch of our kung fu friends and I gathered once again in the spirit of friendship, play, and martial exploration. One Mark led a drill, I shared practices from my new art, and the other Mark, along with our other wonderful training buddies, took it all in. I felt a sense of belonging with this group that I haven’t felt in a long time. It turns out, even though I felt martially lost for a long time, I never lost my kung fu friends. They are around, and when we get back together, we once again have the opportunity to create kung fu magic together. I am so grateful for our friendship and community.
A quick caveat: I’m not a big fan of musicals. I like Cabaret, aka the best-musical-ever, and I like Hair, aka the second-best-musical-ever. Other than that, I’m generally not a fan.
In the musical Hamilton, I really liked the character Lafayette. I was like, “Who is this French guy who is named after that street in Detroit? I like him!”
I was really disappointed he wasn’t in the second act.
Michelle Folk Johnson 