anerlich
01-16-2007, 07:37 PM
I posted this here a couple of years back. Somehow it seems relevant again ...
THE PERILS OF WING CHUN HISTORY
Wing Chun history was driving me way past the Limits of sanity.
I was arguing with people I'd never met over the internet. I know I know, arguing on the internet is like participating in the Special Olympics ...
But I had to know. Had my training in Kung-fu since 1977, the year punk began to really take off, been in vain? Rather than training in the "real" system, was I being maneuvered and manipulated into pugilistic purgatory by officers of the ****ed, who, rather than repenting
when they had found out their own tuition had been lies, lies and more lies, had crossed over to the Dark side of Qi and began to ensnare unwitting dupes such as myself in their evil web of illusory technical greatness?
I had to know. The books, the websites, the arguments, all led to dead ends or mazes of twisty little passages, all alike. Sterner, more committed measures were required. I was, to quote Pantera, the Cowboys from Hell, "Far Beyond Driven".
Taking a three meter 6.5 point pole which had reportedly killed six warriors, and which I had "borrowed" from a museum, and my own butterfly swords, I drove to a remote crossroads of red gravel, arriving just before midnight. Employing the pole with trembling hands, I scored a wide circle around myself with its brass ferrule, and then placed five red plum blossoms
at regular intervals. I removed my shirt and smeared myself with the pulverized petals of more plum blossoms. Employing the pole again, I scored lines to connect the flowers, making, depending on your point of view, either the sign of the pentagram or of the Ko cycle of the Taoist Wu Xing. I wasn't quibbling over what it represented - the dire nature of the ritual I had undertaken required each and every form of religious or mystical protection I could get.
Taking great care not to exit the circle, I performed the TWC butterfly sword form, not the public but the private version. I employed the TWC secret footwork, launched myself into the air for the two spinning jarm dao's, and then inverted myself for the Prayer Wheel of Death,spinning rapidly in a one arm handstand on the point of one blade as I held the other horizontal, cutting imaginary enemies off at the knees.
My own contained terror at what I was hoping (wrong word) to invoke, the dizziness from the spinning and the lateness of the hour combined to overwhelm me. I collapsed.
** Fade to Black **
I awoke to find an apparition seated cross-legged before me; An ageless Asian man of slight build, wearing a white jacket with frog buttons, black pantaloons, and cloth-soled Chinese slippers. A white bundle tied with a black cloth strap sat beside him. I could see through his visible form to the scenery behind, a fence, some dead trees, and a few small crosses made from timber, presumably in memory of road accident victims ... or could they commemorate the passings of others, foolishly involved in rites and practices similar to my own?
THE PERILS OF WING CHUN HISTORY
Wing Chun history was driving me way past the Limits of sanity.
I was arguing with people I'd never met over the internet. I know I know, arguing on the internet is like participating in the Special Olympics ...
But I had to know. Had my training in Kung-fu since 1977, the year punk began to really take off, been in vain? Rather than training in the "real" system, was I being maneuvered and manipulated into pugilistic purgatory by officers of the ****ed, who, rather than repenting
when they had found out their own tuition had been lies, lies and more lies, had crossed over to the Dark side of Qi and began to ensnare unwitting dupes such as myself in their evil web of illusory technical greatness?
I had to know. The books, the websites, the arguments, all led to dead ends or mazes of twisty little passages, all alike. Sterner, more committed measures were required. I was, to quote Pantera, the Cowboys from Hell, "Far Beyond Driven".
Taking a three meter 6.5 point pole which had reportedly killed six warriors, and which I had "borrowed" from a museum, and my own butterfly swords, I drove to a remote crossroads of red gravel, arriving just before midnight. Employing the pole with trembling hands, I scored a wide circle around myself with its brass ferrule, and then placed five red plum blossoms
at regular intervals. I removed my shirt and smeared myself with the pulverized petals of more plum blossoms. Employing the pole again, I scored lines to connect the flowers, making, depending on your point of view, either the sign of the pentagram or of the Ko cycle of the Taoist Wu Xing. I wasn't quibbling over what it represented - the dire nature of the ritual I had undertaken required each and every form of religious or mystical protection I could get.
Taking great care not to exit the circle, I performed the TWC butterfly sword form, not the public but the private version. I employed the TWC secret footwork, launched myself into the air for the two spinning jarm dao's, and then inverted myself for the Prayer Wheel of Death,spinning rapidly in a one arm handstand on the point of one blade as I held the other horizontal, cutting imaginary enemies off at the knees.
My own contained terror at what I was hoping (wrong word) to invoke, the dizziness from the spinning and the lateness of the hour combined to overwhelm me. I collapsed.
** Fade to Black **
I awoke to find an apparition seated cross-legged before me; An ageless Asian man of slight build, wearing a white jacket with frog buttons, black pantaloons, and cloth-soled Chinese slippers. A white bundle tied with a black cloth strap sat beside him. I could see through his visible form to the scenery behind, a fence, some dead trees, and a few small crosses made from timber, presumably in memory of road accident victims ... or could they commemorate the passings of others, foolishly involved in rites and practices similar to my own?