First Steps, First Fire

The learning itself isn't hard. I'll say that plainly. Truth be told, it's kind of fun.

The practising is the other thing entirely, and I knew that going in, but there's something about actually standing at the beginning of a new form that makes you forget it temporarily. The early days of learning have a quality to them that I'm not sure I can fully describe — something like the beginning of a thing you know is going to matter, a kind of fire that the later stages of practice don't quite replicate. Everything is still possible. Nothing has become difficult yet in the way it will become difficult.

Today I worked through the first steps of the fan form and it was genuinely, unexpectedly fun. There's an elegance to it I didn't anticipate, a lightness in the movement that surprises me, and I found myself smiling in the middle of it for no particular reason other than the form itself seemed to want that response.

The fourteen other forms are not being quiet about the fact that they exist and are being somewhat neglected. I'm aware of that. But right now this one has my full attention and I'm not going to apologise for that, because divided attention is how things don't develop into anything.

I keep thinking about this journey as a love affair. I know that sounds like an enormous claim to make about Kung Fu practice, but I can't find a more honest description right now. In the Dao, everything has a correct path, and I believe that my job is not to force it or rush it or second-guess it, only to get out of the way and let it move.

Today I am in love with what I've chosen. Tomorrow will be its own day. The correct path won't change. It's up to me to keep choosing to walk it.