I am the book; the book is me

Ever since I got back from my April 2017 trip to visit my Sifus in Toronto — and then opened my Kungfu school — I had the idea that I would write a practice diary and give it to my sifus as a gift to let them know I was still training every day.

The fact is, we can’t spend more time together and don’t keep in touch because of the diametric difference in time and distance.

Then I broke my hand and couldn’t practice and had to give up my school. It’s now six months later and my hand is basically okay — it will take another month or two to get really better — but at least I can start practicing again.

The funny thing is, I didn’t practice as much as I wanted, this last six months. I mean, I had health problems — serious health problems, an accident, some kidney stones, I fell, I had repetitive stress injuries. Things like that. It’s been hard.

I still have the moleskin desk diary I bought to record my progress. It’s empty. I’ve thought about all the things I would write in it many times. But the truth is it will probably remain empty, forever. What is the point of such a book? I am the book. If I am lucky enough to spend time with my sifus again I will show them the book — me. That’s all that really matters in the end. And I feel completely inadequate in every way.

Such a difficult road

I know the deal. I know the rules of the game. How is it possible to get to there from here? It doesn’t seem possible. Forty minutes of that. An hour of this. A form, another form, a form and a form. Another style. I know all the important exercises, all the important routines. If not, then what remains is surely recoverable from what I know. I’m not saying I know everything, but to say that at this point I do not know what to do is a mistake. I know what I need to do.

But it feels so empty, it feels so difficult, how can it really work? How can it get me to where I want to go?

Once more I plunge into that hopeless darkness. This time I pray that I have the courage to continue. I’ve had accidents — broken bones, impact shocks from accidents, falls, stress injuries. Is this my last chance? Or is it too late for that? Either way I still have to wait 20 years to know for sure. Why does this feel like starting over? It’s not supposed to be like starting over.

It was supposed to be easier than this.