Snake Style

Even as a child I loved the martial arts. I never truly identified myself with them, but the arts did permeate my life. Amaris & I would sometimes play “ninja classes,” with myself as the teacher. I have memories of telling her to jump banisters and walk rolls of carpet for balance. Apparently, socks on my hands, a towel for a cape, and a bandanna transformed me into a super-ninja. With my friends, I would love to wrestle & box. In elementary school Matt & I would play “swing wars,” using the largest playground swing-sets. We’d get as high as we could and then slam into each other. Whoever was knocked off first would lose. Usually, afterward, we’d tease the older 7^th graders until they jumped the fence to fight. (We’d return home laughing and covered in bruises.) While very young my friend Scotty & I would wrestle. I have a memory of discovering that I could simply step into the spot that he was about to step toward, and he’d fall down. When he asked where I’d learned such a trick, I replied that my Dad taught me how to wrestle (a lie). This use of force was fascinating to me; and when I had the chance to experiment upon other kids…well, I turned into a bit of a bully. (Eventually I understood my actions, and this knowledge was the single largest source of shame that I carried around for many years. There was definitely a grain or two of aggression to work through.) My father seemed to have an awareness of my interest, and enrolled me into a Judo school. On the first day, however, the instructor grabbed and threw me to the mat. I had never been taught to fall and felt awful for weeks afterward. Because of that Sensei’s ego & lack of compassion, I was put off from the martial arts for years.

During my life I have studied a number of styles: Taekwondo (Korean), Judo, Jujitsu, Shotokan Karate, American Kenpo-Karate, Hawaiian Kali-Kempo (Japanese), Kali (Filipino), Kajukembo (Mixed), and Taiji Quan (“Tai Chi”) (Chinese). It was fun to learn the different types of movement, and all of the different ways that you could engage your body with a partner. Every culture has produced different methods, different objectives, and they all work. For example, the Japanese have an established system, and a rigid style of movement. They take a student and mold them to fit the system. The Chinese, however, have rigid methods of training, but then mold the system to fit the student. Pretty interesting, eh? But I digress…

For a while I trained with the “Iron Palm” & “Iron Shirt” methods. These are designed to, well, you can probably guess from their names. (Otherwise, a short search on the Internet will give you enough information.) They are forms of “hard/external qigong” training. Without going into lengthy explanations here, qigong is a kind of exercise that makes use of the less obvious & more subtle aspects of our physical/mental nature. (I have studied Qi techniques in great detail, and recommend reading Ken Cohen’s book “The Way of Qigong” for more information.) Anyway, I drove around for years with an Iron Palm bag filled with metal pellets on my lap. Repeatedly pounding my hands into that thing, I wonder what the other motorists thought I was doing? As often as possible, I began training very “hard-style.” What does this mean? Well, falls on bare cement, sparring without gloves or pads, striking wooden blocks instead of a padded bag, etc. For a time, I forced my body to its limit; reasoning that I could push past my illness & fatigue. I wanted to forcibly transform myself into a healthy person. Silly me. :o) Lian & I developed contempt for the majority of martial schools to be found in America. “Mc-Dojos” we’d sneer, and notice how their instructors couldn’t fight most beginning boxers without getting pounded. Like Amaris’ Taekwondo studies in college, they have you on a set plan: black belt by graduation. “A 4-year weekend black belt,” we’d laugh, “how is that possible?” Before even studying grappling, I recall repeatedly trouncing an instructor at a nearby Jujitsu school during training. I later felt bad for treating him that way in front of other students. He didn’t know that his training had been poor, and was a very nice guy.

My practice methods at this point were completely external and hard in nature. Purely mechanical. I began studying properties of leverage and the “physics” of the martial arts. I was even turning over in my mind an interesting new concept in Thau-dimensional physics which unified time, space, magnetism, gravity and, for some reason, broccoli.

Somewhere in this tale, I began to teach Tai Chi. I was offered the position at a gym and figured that as a martial artist, Tai Chi would be a piece of cake. “An oversimplified, slowed-down, silly exercise for the extremely old.” Right? Unfortunately, that’s how I began to share the art with some eager students. Very luckily, Lian gave me a wonderful birthday present. She took me to study with a Tai Chi (more properly spelled and pronounced Taiji) master named Chen Xiaowang. I didn’t know it at the time, but he is one of the highest-level martial artists in the world. What are the chances that my first real exposure to the internal arts would come from him? Sheesh! I am one fortunate dude. The experiences I had with him changed my life. His qi is incredible! I saw and felt things with him that I had never dreamed were possible within the martial arts. Lian as my witness, I was instantly hooked.

Now, I must admit, that my initial interest was in its martial qualities. I wanted to become a better fighter. This is a very common way for people to get into the internal arts. One of my teachers was once a Hell’s Angel, a bodyguard, and a recognized master of the Northern Shaolin school of martial arts. Long story short, he was to interview Grandmaster Chen for a kungfu magazine decades ago. Afterward, when sparring with Chen, he was beaten repeatedly, with great ease, and with the grandmaster using the same movement over and over. How could this old guy beat him so easily? So, he traveled to China to find out. Other masters, like Vince Black (recognized full-contact fighter, instructor, and all-around jerk) was defeated by some tiny unknown taiji practitioner from Canada. Stories like these are innumerable. There is an inheritor of “WingChung” (a martial art) living in Tucson. He loves taiji so much that it’s all he practices, and has completely lost interest in teaching his family art. (Just another case of heir today, gone tomorrow.)

Lian, Tai, & I also began to practice some other forms of qigong (like standing posture, gathering methods, etc.). Without understanding what was happening, our lives began to transform. Some of the first tell-tale signs appeared while sparring. At one point, desperate to find trained fighters that liked to box “hard,” Lian and I actually took out an ad to find sparring partners. These people were the toughest that we could find, several of them trained cage-fighters. After a few months of “internal” training, we began to discover that we were hitting too hard. For example, I was putting fighters on the ground with one punch! (This release of power is called a “qi-strike,” but we didn’t understand it until we had lost several of our partners.) Lian & I were also doing occasional damage to each other with tiny, seemingly harmless movements, and had to stop sparring altogether in order to be safe. You’d think that this sudden increase in fighting capacity would have made me excited, but it was another sign of my transformation that I, instead, felt terrible. I hated hurting those people. This compassion was very new for me, and not what I had expected. :oD

[At this point, I feel that I should define the difference between “internal” & “external” methods. However, I just don’t feel like going into all of that. Most of you readers wouldn’t be interested the subtleties, anyway. So, if you are truly confused I recommend reading some books about the subject, including the aforementioned text by Master Cohen. Nothing, though, replaces direct experience with the arts. As one simple example of these concepts, take Western vs. Eastern forms of exercise. (Remember, I was a personal fitness trainer, and so am expert in both methods.) Western exercise works within the system of negative feedback. If you want to strengthen your body, you would lift weights until failure occurs. Basically, you would traumatize your body badly enough so that it exclaims, “Holy crap, I had better get stronger so that this doesn’t happen again!” Then, of course, you change things up and shock your body again and again; as often as possible. Doing this, you drain resources that you probably didn’t have in the first place. Using this model, you always lose more than you gain. Eastern exercise, in contrast, works within the system of positive feedback. For instance, if you’d like to grow stronger you’d increase your level of health, and fill up any drained resources. This may be through diet, rest, breath-work, meditation, healing a relationship, qigong, or anything else that is needed. Then, when your body has renewed itself, you apply a very gentle form of stimulation like taiji. Your body says, “Oh, hey, I’d like to make that even easier; and look, I have extra qi to expend on muscular strength! Let’s do that.” This way, you always receive more than you give. Make sense? It’s very important to recognize that there is a marked difference between “health” & “fitness.” Both are possible, but need to be carefully nurtured. If you wanted to grow a tomato plant, you would water, feed, shade, & weed; not hack at its leaves or pull on the top, hoping to make it grow faster in response. One is an internal soft method; one is an external hard method. Well, sorta; but close enough for jazz.]

Aggression was soon replaced by an interest in the dynamics of harmony & conflict. Not from a religious or pacifist viewpoint, but as one genuinely interested in the practicality of such methods. What sorts of interactions actually deliver the best possible outcome? What would be the highest levels of any martial art? Would it even include physical fighting? One interesting aspect of taiji is that it modifies your way of being in the world. That is, you adjust your qi so that conflict (whether physical or mental) simply doesn’t occur. You find balance beforehand. What does this mean? Well, situations that would normally require you to defend yourself simply never arise. The patterns of mental or even verbal disharmony resolve before they get started. Sound strange? Well, it’s a pretty amazing side-effect. Maybe this would be the highest level of self-defense?

As the desire to fight slowly drained out of me, I noticed that my health was quickly improving. Symptoms that I had grown used to over my lifetime disappeared, and was replaced by a sense of well-being and vibrant health. This thrilled me more than fighting ever had. I didn’t even know that it was possible to feel so great! Without my understanding how, the very reasons that I chose to train with taiji quan began to change. I didn’t care about combat, and only wanted to focus on feeling better. I practiced for hours every day, even in the back of my acupuncture classrooms & clinic. Bit by bit my migraines disappeared, scoliosis gave way to a straight spine, lung weakness, colds & flu vanished never to return. Insomnia, digestive disorders, organ dysfunction, cardiac weakness, inflexibility, skin problems, muscular weakness, body pain, great fatigue, tinnitus, and even dental problems. All cured. (These methods are amazing! If you don’t practice them now, I recommend learning as quickly as you can!)

When I had an interest in learning the Chen-Style Taiji Quan straight sword form, I first spent a long time practicing Chinese calligraphy. The lessons are the same, and they inform each other’s practice. In fact, many of the most revered calligraphers in Chinese history were also the most renowned fencers.

Much sooner than I had expected, I had met all of the goals I had set for the practice of the internal arts. I had started the training to become a better fighter, and then had wanted to develop a healthy body. Where would I go now? Should I even bother keep training? Maybe I should simply put more time into my medical studies & play piano a few times per day? Soon though, during these contemplations, I realized just how deep these internal lessons could go. I apprehended that my learning had only scratched the surface. What other levels of subtle awareness could there be? How much life is there out there to observe? What is the mind truly capable of? What about spiritual or metaphysical concepts that before seemed so silly? (It is now known to science that there are many more dimensions than the classical four. Scientists say that these don’t normally impinge on the world because the extra dimensions are very small and curve in on themselves, and that since reality is fractal most of it is tucked inside itself. This means either that the universe is more full of wonders than we can hope to understand or, more probably, that scientists make things up as they go along. But the multiverse is full of little dimensionettes, play-streets of creation where creatures of the imagination can romp without being knocked down by serious actuality. Sometimes, as they drift through the holes in reality, they impinge back on this universe, when they give rise to myths, legends and charges of being Drunk and Disorderly.) There is so much in this life to explore!

And how about teaching? That is always fun and informative. I’ve become as excited to show this stuff to a student as I am to experience it myself. I love to write articles about the subject & to make DVDs (published in several places), and I am working on a book or 3. I was even the Taiji advisor to Dr. Andrew Weil & his Integrative Medicine program while still in Tucson (he’s worth reading about if you’re confused).

As time wore on, I would practice a little, learn a little, become more excited, and then learn a little more. This cycle has continued unabated since. It’s so much fun!

…and that’s become the most important lesson for me. To play taiji because it’s FUN! (In fact, in China, they never demand that you “Practice Taiji,” they declare that you should “Play Taiji.”) What could be better than that?

When I heard the learned astronomer,

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

Till rising and gliding out I wandered off by myself,

In the mystical moist night air, and from time to time,

Looked up in perfect silence at the stars.

Book-Worms & Schools of Fish

Hanging out with Marina’s family is pretty interesting. The majority of my life has been spent with people that prize intellect & education, but the Pierce’s seem to care about different things. (Which, by the way, is totally great. It’s always nice to be exposed to new ways of looking at the world.)

For the most part, my own family is super-duper elitist. It’s as if the royalty in our blood has tainted our view of the average human. Cerebral snobbery is no exception. Within Marina’s family, there is no expectation of scholastic attainment whatsoever. It seems that if you manage a 2-year degree at a junior college, you’ll be considered a smarty-pants. However, a Mattox or a Carlson without a 4-year degree is considered an oaf or a slacker. Never in my life did my sister or I consider stopping study before a post-graduate education. If you had asked us about it, we probably would have confided that certain conditions would need to apply first (ie. blue moons, aerial pigs and we, Mattoxs, being seen in hell).

Now, it’s not that I consider intellectual aspirations to be a bad thing (Although “knowing” stuff can definitely hamper one’s ability to experience reality). Only considering the pursuit to be “higher,” classier, or somehow better than another calling seems screwed-up. Personally, I feel as though my brain is over-full. Book-learning needs to be balanced with actual experience & psycho-spiritual development.

The high school nurse & I got to know each other pretty well. I essentially spent more time with her than in my homeroom class. Yeah, I used illness as a way out of anything that I didn’t enjoy. Oh, and I really didn’t enjoy school. At all. Sure, band was pleasant, but I simply hadn’t come to a place in my life where learning seemed fun. These days, as an instructor, I find that it’s essential to teach only to students who are ready to learn. Every other pupil simply wants to be entertained …which is cool too. (Any attempts to instruct them usually will result in empty gazes of good-natured constipation.) Actually, it wasn’t until I started investigating medicine & taiji quan that I took a real interest in my studies. Before that, I treated school as a hobby and engaged in a great deal of “bulimic” learning.

After floating halfway through my foggy high school experience, I somehow stumbled into the decision to test out of school early. I’ve gotta say that this was one of the best choices that I could have made. (It’s funny, looking back now at my life, it’s surprising that I chose to make such a radical decision. I don’t recall doing anything requiring half so much initiative. Passion & spontaneity weren’t well-developed aspects of my personality at that time. I was just too damn tired for that sort of crap.) Not only did the CHESPE certificate add a sort of impressive distinction to my otherwise unimpressive & indistinct schooling transcript, but the decision set me free to explore the world around me, at my own pace. This freedom allowed me to ditch the “school for the sake of school” mentality, and to discover the joy of learning. Even now, outside the formal schooling system, I carry a few books in my ever-present backpack. At this moment, I’m carrying texts about the study of mandarin, traditional Chinese medicine, Daoist philosophy, the history of the internal combustion engine, and American history (“A People’s History of the United States” by Howard Zinn… an eye-opening book! It certainly shows what our ancestors would be thinking if they were alive today. [People have often speculated about this. Would they approve of modern society, they ask, would they marvel at present-day achievements? And of course this misses a fundamental point. What our ancestors would really be thinking, if they were alive today, is: “Why is it so dark in here?”]).

This educational exploration extended for years, spanned 9 schools, and covered a tremendous variety of subjects. Now, not only can I bore people at parties with almost any topic, but I kick-ass at “Trivia”. Ahhh, the benefits of a liberal learning-curve. Funnily enough, a Master’s degree was the first official degree that I had ever applied for. I simply never had a reason to apply for a similar piece of paper before. When I approached the medical post-graduate program without the appropriate certifications, happily they told me that my transcripts were impressive enough to get me into the school. I’ve always been pretty lucky that way.

Halfway through my study at acupuncture school, I decided to take a short trip & head to Australia. (It’s quite essential to take breaks from time to time.) I’d developed a love for New Zealand beforehand, and thought it’d be fun to explore the neighborhood. The time spent there & hiking across Tasmania altered my life dramatically; but that’s a subject for a different time. …It’s wonderful, isn’t it? How way leads to way? Knowledge is transformative, and each transformation places us on a different path. Each path leads to new discovery, further experience, some discarding, and more knowledge. And so it goes. Truly, it’s one of the reasons that it has taken me so long to write this “blog to my blood.” Life keeps changing. How can I tell them where I am at if circumstances are constantly in flux?

My trade school studies have ranged everywhere from personal fitness training to long-haul trucking. Speaking of which, I have to say that trucking is a wonderful gig for a meditator. With an appropriate mind-set, the vehicle becomes a moving monastery. Pure, quiet awareness meditation; for 11 hours per day. Heck, it should be required for every student of Zen methodology. With a partner & a consistent schedule, you’ll pull in more than 100-grand a year. More importantly, you’ll establish that all-important foundation of a still & peaceful mind. Now, you ask, why in the heck would a doctor become a trucker? Well, after spending time in a clinic, I decided that I didn’t feel comfortable making money off of someone’s misery. It makes me feel like a vulture or an extortionist. Daily, I do treat people for free; but I’ll never get rich from my skills as a healer. I’m very happy about that.

Currently, the vast majority of my studies are of the Daoist arts of internal transformation. QiGong, Taiji Quan, meditation, etc. They carry far more depth and interest to me than any other subjects that I’ve come across. Initially, my work on these methods was for my own health-benefit; but now that I’m completely healed I’ve discovered the more subtle & interesting layers of the arts. Also, I’m actively learning to teach. The poetry of good instruction has become fascinating. I’ll blog about that stuff later. :o)

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

Sugar-Free Jazz

For at least half of my life, I assumed that I’d eventually become a full-time professional musician. Heck, why not? It was practically my sole interest & the chief foundation of my social structure. Music was the only place that I found clarity and a sense of self. Besides, I’m good at it; & isn’t that the reason that most people choose to do what they do? Because they crave results? Well, eventually that wasn’t what I was looking for (but I’ll get to that).

I wrote music constantly as a kid. Humming, making stuff up, adding to songs on the radio & rewriting lyrics when I couldn’t recall the words. Riding in the car with my mom at about age 5, I remember telling her that I could guess what was coming next in a song. I still have that knack for guessing what’s next in a tune I’ve never heard (but usually because pop-tunes are all following the same basic musical formula). About the same time, I decided that if they could write then so could I. Usually, I would sing about Christian stuff. After hearing my uncle preach about hell-fire & damnation, taking the Lord’s name in vain, and other concepts of this wrathful jackass of a God, I worriedly asked my father if Jesus thinks it’s okay that I make up songs about him. His exact response was, “He’s tickled pink about it.” Thanks Dad. Perfect answer. :o) Probably, all he did was delay my departure from the church for a few more years. Most likely, I would have fled the the Church anyway, spurred by the music dancing in my mind in anti-point with a desire to be a "Good Christian." Eventually, the passion for music would have burst out of my chest like an alien; and I’d have burned my Bible in effigy to “DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince.” :o)

Kids rebel against everything. Can you believe that I hated going to piano class? My parents were nice enough to send me to the Yamaha school for beginning keyboard lessons, but I’d ditch as often as I could. Partially, it was the fear of performance that kept me from enjoying myself. That pervasive fearfulness was the major bane of my musical exploration for years to come. I loved playing in small ensembles because of the sharing and communication, but couldn’t bear my own tremendous expectations. I’d even have tiny panic attacks from time to time, but didn’t really understand what was happening. All in all, I was a pretty off-balance kid; expanded through the intrinsic understanding of the world that I was born with, but chained down by attachments to what "should be."

(All of this being said, one wrench removed from this otherwise heart-wrenching story, is that I’ve always been quite “aware.” My Dad & Lian know the most about this, and it’s hard to describe. I’ll write about it at some point. Suffice-it to say that I was born with a funny knowledge-base that I’ve had trouble integrating into “John’s life.” So, don’t feel too sorry for me. Even as a young child I knew that none of this stuff really mattered. Like most people, I suffered because of a desire to do so. )

In the 5^th grade, my cool grandma gave me the gift of an ancient stolen sax. She had played on it years before, and then donated it to the John cause. Initially it was just another thing to be afraid of. Looking back I can say that it remains one of the best holiday gifts I’ve ever received (alongside a dog & a taiji lesson). Once again, my parents were generous enough to pay for private lessons to help me to excel. Later, we replaced my old sax with a rented tin-can of an instrument, which was replaced by another & another. eventually, I purchased my own dream saxophone, and was the last I’d ever own.

As the years rolled by, I did manage to practice nearly every day. Sadly, there was rarely any joy in it. Mostly a grudging sense of “needing to practice so that I don’t suck.” For some reason, I had difficulty connecting my own great passion for music with actually playing the instrument. Certainly, my skill improved daily, and I was considered very talented within the music community; but I rarely played for “fun.” It’s as if the sax was an invitation to get into the party, but was not the celebration itself. Much later I uncovered part of the reason for this impression. In school, I became a music major & even gigged around LA a little. While living in Sedona, I would go to the river at night and play to the red rocks. I was part of a reasonably successful sax quintet, did jam sessions, studied solos of the sax greats, & even got a job at a jazz club so that I could learn from the pros. …And did it help jump-start my passion for performance? Nope. Not even a little.

In my 20’s, Lian and I moved to Tucson to help a troubled friend. To pay for the transition, we sold my super-sax and I stopped playing completely. It was a pretty hard decision! When I started graduate school I realized that I needed to focus on becoming a capable doctor. I’ve never been good at dividing my attention. When I do, I tend to fail at both subjects. So, I promised myself that I would restart playing when I graduated. During schooling, though, I uncovered my great love of the internal arts. This increased my sensitivity & self-awareness many-fold. I became conscious of why I never enjoyed actually playing the sax. Other than the mental-emotional binding, my body just didn’t respond to the physical process of playing sax very well. It made me feel bad, but I had been too disconnected to notice. Whenever I wanted to just chill out and play music, I would hang-out on the piano. For some reason, it feels better under my fingers than any other instrument. (Pretty funny, huh? Finally returning to the Yamaha classes!) So, I’ve decided to give up woodwind instruments permanently in exchange for the piano. It’s pretty tough to start over as a musician (back to scales & finger-position), but I’m happy to try.

Now, where’s my sheet-music for “Mary Had A Little Lamb?”…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Me, and My Shadow

Ah, Lian.

The longest, and most important relationship in my life has been with that crazy lady. :o)

Being unable to define the darned thing, it may be tough for me to describe it to anyone that hasn’t seen us together. So? Instead, I’ll just give a brief overview of our history.

We met back in La Mirada as teenagers. Initially hanging out with mutual friends, and very soon spending all of our time together. From schooling to sparring, sharing it all. We never tired of the company, although sometimes our camaraderie was pretty volatile. Lian was the first person that I felt comfortable exploring my mind with. She was happy to talk about any crazy subject that would come up. (Why tortoises hate philosophy, why too much religion is bad for goats, and what it really is that handmaidens actually do.) She was also willing to embark upon any crazy adventure that we’d dream up. (We liked finding places without people, when possible. Places on distant hilltops where we could see the heavens. Also, in the dark of night, the stars below us were campfires, out in the desert, and the lights of remote towns high in the forested mountains. Townships are smeared nebulae, cities are vast constellations; the great sprawling city of LA, for example, glows like a couple of colliding galaxies.) This, eventually, is how we ended up living together in Sedona, Arizona.

We stayed in the Red Rocks for quite a while, moved back to La Mirada for a bit to study the martial arts, and bought a 30’ RV. Rushing to the aid of another friend, we ended up in Tucson, Arizona where Lian started at the astrological university. After a year or so cruisin’ around in the RV, we got a house. After a few years in the house, however, we parted ways & haven’t really seen each other since. Crazy huh? We lived with each other for about 9 years total.

Why’d we separate? It’s a hard question and has a lot to do with the closeness of our relationship. We weren’t dating, but our other friends were typically intimidated by the intimate nature of our companionship. We were often called “twins” by the people around us, or “impenetrable” by those trying to share our lives. We lost a few opportunities for relationships over the years with some amazing people, because they felt nervous about the nature of our bond. In the end, a gent that Lian was interested in would not stay with her as long as she would stay with me. So, she felt that in order to grow in new ways she’d have to say farewell to our partnership.

And we have grown from the new directions. Initially, our relationship was as self-centered as a gyroscope. We were so intertwined that we were unable to grow in distinctive directions. Now that our branches have been separated & detangled, however, much more light is being shed upon our individuality.

It’s strange, ya know? Not having Lian around? Well, of course you wouldn’t know, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. When so much of your life has been built around another person, all sorts of patterns form in unexpected ways. Thinking models & conceptual structures. Verbal cues and physical language. Often times I feel like an amputee with phantom sensation. Even right now, I can still feel her there. :oD

Disturb us, friend, when we are too well-pleased with ourselves;

When our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little;

When we have arrived in safety because we have sailed too close to the shore.

Stir us, friend, to dare more boldly,

To venture seas where storms shall show Creation’s majesty.

Where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars.

Ancestral Qi

Family has always been one of the truly important aspects of my life.

To anyone in my blood relation, or who knows my history, this probably sounds funny. I’ve never been one to look forward to a Carlson get-together, or a Mattox family holiday. It’s taken me a long time to reconcile these two points. The single most helpful bit of information came from Lian’s Chinese astrological instructor. He told me to avoid Ben Stiller movies. Then, he discussed what they call the “Parents Palace.” The majority of my “dark stars” (places where I would run into difficulty) are in that location.

This made perfect sense to me. THAT’S why I’ve always sought out deep, long-term, family-like relationships with people around me (since then I've been surrounded by incredible friends that I consider family); but have always felt exhausted and constrained around my blood relatives. All I know is that I have always felt the urge to get away from them all.

Usually, when people ask about my parents, I tell them that I haven’t really seen my family in a decade. When pressed for more, I usually just say that we didn’t get along.

My family was alternately hilarious and humorless, generous and greedy, loving and indifferent. Most were obsessed with certain ideas that I did not care for, and uninterested in some concepts that continue to fascinate me. Although I enjoy movies, I would flee from every opportunity to watch with my relatives. Eating meals in a group is one of my favorite activities, but I never chose to sit around a table with my blood. Why? Were they really so bad? Well, no. Not at all. Sometimes, in fact, they were down-right pleasant. I just never really felt sunny around them.

The astrologer talked about my health and my sense of well-being quite a lot. He said that I had quite powerful “qi” (vital life energy) in both places. When I questioned why I didn’t begin to feel well until the latter half of my life, he was stymied. After a moment, however, he looked at my parents palace and asked when I stopped spending time with my family. It’s quite true that my sense of aliveness began to emerge only when I was away from them. His only advice was for me to stay away. (…and this from a Chinese perspective! They would only advise such a thing when faced with a chart like my own. Historically, I would have been sent away as a monk or some other apprentice to help balance my qi. ) I’ve decided to take the suggestion.

For years now, I’ve been undergoing some pretty substantial transformation. My whole perspective on the nature of, well…life, the universe, & everything is radically different than it was when spending time with blood. I was always unsure of how to handle this “family” business. I thought that I should wait to contact them until I was feeling clear and emotionally liberated. There should be none of those emotional knots that many kids experience with their parental units. So, I meditated and practiced other powerful Daoist arts of internal transformation for several hours every day. (Currently, I train closer to 8 or 10 hours daily.) Now, I finally feel clear enough to communicate my thoughts and feelings, and to hear what my family has to say in return. Long though it may have been, the time apart has been super important to my own sense of well-being. I don’t regret a single choice in the matter.

…Now, however, I get to see how they react. :o)

++++++++++++++++++

The limpid river runs between the bushes,

The horse and cart are moving idly on.

The water flows as if with a mind of its own,

At dusk, the birds return to perch together.

The secluded town is opposite an ancient ferry,

The setting sun now fills the autumn hills.

And far below the mountain’s tumbling ridges,

Returning home, I close the door for now.

The Smile Hidden Inside Every Bun

Looking back upon my life, it seems that I’ve only been awake for… roughly half. That is, memories of my childhood are only vague & indistinct. To me, it truly does seem like I was sleep-walking through the first half of my time on this planet. There came a very specific moment when I suddenly noticed the universe at large. Since then, I’ve diligently been clearing the mental cobwebs and wiping the sleep from my eyes.

I suspect that this is a universal experience, and why the Daoists seek to become “Real Humans.” Isn’t it funny, then, that the more “real” you become, the more “unreal” the whole of the world gets? Now, I bet that the last statement sounds pretty strange to a non-meditator, but you’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s as if the solidity and weight of the world (including my-“self”) becomes less & less with each passing breath.

How much of this new clarity is due to my practice, how much simply to being this John-Person, and how much owed to the process of time passing? If you’ve ever stood with your nose pressed to a window, looking outside, you’ve had the experience of your breath fogging up your own view. I think that everyone lives this way, with their own distortion getting in the way of their perspective. Every day, I see the nature of the universe with greater lucidity. Slowly becoming fully awake. Maybe that’s why monks are always wearing pajamas? Hmmm…

There was, in fact, a “moment” that I recall as one of my first true instants of alert awareness. When I was about 15, I was living with my blood family in Los Angeles County. As a teenager, I was constantly ill in some way, and always tired. My whole body hurt, and my mind was endlessly fuzzy. Of course, I didn’t know that I was feeling this way. How can you know what “health” feels like if you’ve never experienced it before? I’ve always liked other people, but was pretty reclusive because of the discomfort. I never sought out social interactions, and constantly avoided family like the plague. So, as usual, I was reading in my room during one of the big family BBQs that my mom was so fond of having. Somebody, perhaps one of my aunts, was kind enough to bring me a burger (although I was already having some issues with eating meat). Peeling back the bun and taking off the lettuce to see what condiments she had put on it was, undeniably, a smiling face.

(I know what you’re thinking, and yes this probably is very similar to somebody in Mexico seeing the Virgin Mary in their tostada. However, for me, it was a smiley face.)

There was this absolute removing of all the veils from my mind, and I experienced the entire universe grinning at me and loving me through this little bit of dead cow. Also, I was suddenly able to recall countless times before that moment, when similar communications had occurred. I had simply been too distracted to notice. The whole universe was constantly shouting out and declaiming its love and joy, …and I had never heard?! All of the discomfort in my body-mind vanished as the silliness of my attitude became perfectly clear. The perfection of all existence was undeniable and blatantly obvious. Nothing was hidden, I had simply been…asleep.

Much later, after laughing for what seemed like hours, I tried telling my father of this experience. Unfortunately, I just didn’t have the words to communicate my transformation to him. I’m sure that the meaning was masked and obscured by Christian slang & his own metaphysical opinions. Another day, I remember attempting to communicate these feelings to my mother, but her typical negativity convinced me that it was something that I should simply keep to myself.

And so it went. Years would pass before I would even vaguely discuss my experience of the world with anyone other than Lian. She seemed to intuitively understand most of what I would talk about, and that gave me the courage to explore the ideas further. Not until later, in graduate school studying medicine, did I realize that telling people about this viewpoint was sometimes helpful to them. Oftentimes, after telling friends, they would treat me differently; but I have learned how to avoid those problems as time goes on.

Now, funnily enough, sharing this knowledge is my hobby and my profession. I am immensely grateful for having been given the chance to experience love as deeply as I have in my life. It’s all that I could ever want or need.

By the way, ever since this childhood experience, I have always drawn little smiley faces on paperwork, dusty cars, bathroom walls, etc. It was always my private little joke.

Leaning alone in the close trees,

I am playing my lute and humming a song

Too softly for anyone to hear --

Except my comrade, the bright moon.

Into the Woods

After obtaining my master’s degree in traditional Chinese medicine, I wondered what opportunities would present themselves. With the closing of that particular chapter of my life, I knew that another, even more wondrous phase would begin. Also, I knew that by simply turning the pages, my story would become sweeter and sweeter.

That is, after all, how life works. (Be sure to tell your friends.) :o)

So, I began to explore possibilities during my meditation sessions. Sure, I was “supposed” to be sitting there in stillness, but I was having too much fun. The internal dialogue went something like this:

I could take up a job in a hospital & make tons of money? No, too hectic. I could work in a small clinic & treat the underprivileged? Nah, the idea of working within a physical, intellectual, ethical, & economic shoe-box doesn’t sound fun. How about opening my own clinic? And do all that paperwork? Are you joking? Hmmm… what about shirking the whole “Dr. John” mess by simply treating friends and community members for free & on my own time? Yes! That sounds fun! It would take longer to pay off my schooling, but I’m in no hurry. Also, by bucking the system of licensure & insurance that I don’t agree with, I can help to deconstruct the stagnant social paradigm. ...or something like that...

Where to live? Should I stay in the desert? Well, I do enjoy Tucson, but the dry weather isn’t very good for my body. How about BeiJing? While the idea of studying with some of the masters in that area & furthering my mandarin sounds fantastic, I don’t like the idea of having my lungs turn black. Back to Tasmania? No, the last time I was there, they were slashing and burning the old-growth tree groves. The Blue-Tier Rainforest must be a cattle-ridden field by now. I loved New Zealand, but there aren’t enough instructors out there. In the end, I realized that a life in the forest sounds the most ideal. I searched, and found a forest near enough to a major city to be accessible, but far enough away to be completely isolated. Yosemite National Forest is only a few hours away from San Francisco. That city has some great instructors that I can train with, and Yosemite happens to be just about the most beautiful place that I have ever seen.

What about money? They say it’s important.

Yeah, I guess I have to pay back my loans.

(sigh) Alright, what sounds like fun? Well, I love to teach meditation, qigong, taiji quan, etc. Why not continue with instructing? Great idea! That way, I can make enough money to survive, and need not charge my patients for their healing. Should I open my own school? Well, I tried that and it wasn’t very much fun. Okay, scratch that idea. Why not just work for someone else? Even if I’m making minimum wage, it’s plenty to live simply with. I can teach sunrise & sunset classes like I enjoy doing anyway. …and running them in Yosemite makes the training a wondrous experience. Huzzah!

At this point, satisfied that all of these choices felt “right” for me, I settled back into the cultivation of stillness. I figured that life would take care of the rest. Lo & behold, several months later, I found myself living & working in the park! I am paid for 3 hours of sunrise classes, and 3 hours at sunset. Surrounded by trees & mountains, in sight of a river, I treat many members of the community every day. So far we’ve had great success with everything from rheumatoid-arthritis to emotional depression. As life would have it, I make much more money than I need to survive AND am able to help support friends with their own schooling. How great is that?

Most of my day is spent with my practices, teaching, treating, and chilling by the river. Ahhh, paradise. I knew that the next phase of my life would be great, but how could I predict just HOW amazing it would become!?

---

My heart in middle age found the Way.

And I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.

When the spirit moves, I wander alone

Amid beauty that is all for me....

I will walk till the water checks my path,

Then sit and watch the rising clouds --

And some day meet an old wood-cutter

And talk and laugh and never return.