Master Chung required of his first degree black belt candidates:
a written test,
the demonstration of every color belt form, both tae guek and pal gay,
a 3 on 1 sparring session against the instructors,
and a hammerfist break of one brick.
When those requirements were accomplished, along with demonstrating perseverance and courtesy and indomitable spirit under every grueling condition MC could concoct for all those many years of practice, the black belt was awarded.
(At last! Your black belt!)
Which you got to wear for the first time at the belt ceremony, when you presented your black belt speech in front of the entire school and all their attending families and friends.
No doubt the speech terrified more candidates than simply putting their fist through a brick for the approval of Grand Master.
But all that was the easy stuff.
Master Chung also required several hours of meditation before a student was allowed to test.
I know. Several hours of sitting, after years of training.
So what's the big deal, right?
That darned monkey mind. More difficult to tame than a 7 year old white belt on a Halloween sugar high.
Occasionally, a book or a memory or that Master Mental Artist, the desire for change, will beckon you off your easy street and nudge you into the narrow back alleys of personal challenge.
Sometimes you can even make the challenging path a habit.
But there's a secret to it. A secret everyone knows.
"Make effort."
C'mon, grasshopper, you didn't think you were going to just sit there and the quiet mind of meditation would just happen, did you?
To get out early enough in the summer so as to avoid broiling the brain you are attempting to sooth, one must first detach from all the little waking chores of the morning. One must leave the bed unmade, the dishes in the sink, the last of the coffee undrunk, and simply GO.
The mind does not accept this easily, nor does it want you to just GO until you have exactly the right cool comfortable outfit (when you no longer wear a bikini, this is not automatic), the one hat in the house that doesn't sit crooked on your head, the correct sunglasses, a drink of juice before leaving, on and on.
The brain resists getting out that door, even for a daily soothing. "But what about...?" it cries, and off you go in search of those other sandals.
Make effort.
Leave the dishes, do not read email.
GO.
Walk one hour.
Feel the shift of morning breeze on your skin. Breathe the ocean's thick air. Hear the low growl of a thousand mile wave crash in a slow summer roll.
Be aware of everything. Think about nothing. If you can.
It could just be the most memorable hour of the day.
And the toughest.
I decided I would visit the beach every morning for five days.
On Monday the water was (surprise!) numbingly cold. Warm summer air puffed up in a thin magical haze over cold breakers. Dropping into rythmic breath was quick and otherworldly. Wow, (surprise!) That was easy.
For one day, anyway.
By Thursday the house was a wreck, blog unwritten, emails unanswered, laundry undone. The morning workout hour was sucked away. There was a ride planned for Friday. The grill stopped working. (No grill for the Fourth of July? No way!) Monkey, monkey, monkey... One run, two rides, five stores, and a cookout later, the beach so close, seems so far away.
But that's the hard part, right?
And the answer is no secret.
Make more effort.
There's a line in the sand and it moves by the minute. I didn't draw it. But it seems I must walk it. Monkey mind needs subduing, true. But it seems the more time spent in direct assault, the more the monkey runs amok.
I'm going to have to be sneaky about this.
So yesterday the beach. And maybe tomorrow.
Today the computer.
I can breathe and not-think sometime before leaving for work later this morning.
Probably while folding the laundry.
.JPG)
No comments:
Post a Comment