She used to live at the school just like me. More than me, really. Now she doesn’t. She hasn’t been able to for four months now, but she’s been trying hard to get back consistently for more than two.
She used to be the resident female bad-ass in the building, the perfectionist kung fu practitioner, intensive wushu performer, and the hard-driving upper sash class teacher, who occasionally got heavy-handed with conditioning exercises that even Sifu never inflicted on anyone. She’s the only current member of the school who knows the chain whip form, and was the sole female member of the team that went to China to compete. Now, she’s a mother.
That fact fills her with joy and pride, but it also comes with a diminished capacity for martial arts – not by much, I’m sure, but diminished nevertheless. She very much wants to be back to the skill and ability she had before pregnancy, but she’s conscious of disturbing the training of others by bringing a crying baby with her to the school. Even with others there to watch the baby, she can’t train uninterrupted.
I feel for her. I worry about her. I wonder about the level of frustration she must be combatting, given a love and compulsion for kung fu that rivals my own. She’s the only other person in the building that admits to sitting at her desk at work and running through in her head the form she’s working on, as I do with regularity. She’s the only person there I’ve ever seen drive herself practically to tears when a move she’s practiced incessantly just isn’t gelling in mind or body. She taught well into her ninth month, often having to be reminded not to attempt to demonstrate moves. Quite simply, she loves kung fu and wushu, and she’s exceptionally good at both. She once told me that she wants to do a form perfectly before she does it in public.
So when I saw her the other night making her way across the floor in wushu class moving slower than normal, with kicks lower than she’d normally allow them to be, it wasn’t her speed that bothered me or her execution of the kicks in the drill. It was her expression. Her face spoke volumes. It made me want to take her aside and give her a pep talk, tell her that all she needed was time and she’d be back putting us all to shame. But I couldn’t – not simply because she was occupied in class, but because I was afraid it would do more harm than good.
Sometimes the last thing a kung fu woman wants is to have someone think she needs…anything.
January 13th, 2014 at 1:34 am
That probably goes for women who excel at…well, just about anything. I got a flat tire today on the highway…I’ve unfortunately had to change many in my day. Had my daughter with me when suddenly, the unmistakable rumble of a flat happened, and I pulled to the shoulder. Strange thing is, I, being a woman, wanted to get it changed super quick. Not because the whole episode would cause me to be late where I was going, but because someone may stop and ask if I need help…probably a very nice man. While I totally appreciate anyone stopping to help anyone, the last thing I wanted was someone slowing my process down cause he/they think they can do it better.
Well, a very nice man did stop. Luckily I was screwing the lug nuts back on the spare at that point. I told him thanks so much for stopping, but I was good – and teaching my daughter that changing a tire is something every woman(and man) should know how to do. Did it in ten minutes flat. And I didn’t need any help! Totally understand…and tonight’s blog was AWESOME!
January 13th, 2014 at 9:55 pm
Thank you! You may be right; it may apply to people who excel at something. Thanks for reading.