Only the Beginning

I woke beneath a thick blanket of cloud, the sun hidden but still present, turning the morning into something close and heavy. Training felt like stepping into a greenhouse — heat held in, effort amplified.

I skipped basics again, intent on finishing the sword form. That part went as hoped. I reached the end, soaked through, standing in a small pool of sweat. Finishing always brings a quiet satisfaction, though it’s already clear that this moment is less an ending than a doorway.

Now comes the real work.
Letting each movement settle.
Allowing the form to sink deeper than memory.

I know what lies ahead. A long road. Wide swings between ease and frustration. The kind of rhythm that regularly reminds me why I chose this in the first place.

With this, I’ve completed seven Wudang forms. Each one has offered something slightly different, but together they’ve given me an unexpected stability. A way of moving forward through small, deliberate steps. An anchor in a life that has, at times, felt like a boat drifting too close to rocks.

I don’t expect this to become easy. It probably never will. Maybe that’s exactly why it suits me. There’s a comfort in the discomfort — a sense of belonging that doesn’t need explanation. Even a quiet sense of worth.

It’s subtle. Easy to overlook.
But it’s there.

And for now, that feels like enough to carry forward.