They wanted to know how fast the form is supposed to go. So I showed them. By the time I reached move four of the sixteen step sequence, I knew I was sacrificing precision for speed, and I was glad that I realized it.
It made me wonder: in any given day, how many things do I do on automatic pilot? How many tasks could use more precision – deserve it, in fact – but I speed through them instead, out of habit?
I’ve known the white sash form for six years. I’ve done it thousands of times as a student and a hundred or so times as a teacher. Though it’s the simplest form in most respects, it’s also among the most painful for me because of the number of horse stances that must be executed with battered knees and the number of stance transitions that occur without benefit of standing up. So it came as no surprise to me when I recorded the form and saw that my stances were too high and a few transitions were too muddled.
So, tucked into the ritual repetitions of White Eyebrow, with finishing touches that thankfully look more finished by the week, I went back to basics and refined the first form, the one from which all others flow. Now, my star students, the only two who consistently show up on a Friday night, won’t make the mistake of losing precision as they acquire speed.
Bad habits are inevitable. I’d just rather not teach them, if I can help it.