Choi Kwang Do as a path to self development and awareness
by Jan Storey
First steps on my path
When I first moved into St. Margaret I heard that there was to be a gym downstairs. I had hoped for a pool so was initially disappointed and when I realised that the wellness centre was also a place where a martial art was to be taught I didn’t imagine that I would ever enrol there.
I noticed my closedness to the idea and began to observe what was really happening there. I was especially interested to see how many children and young people went in and out: rather than being populated by the ‘tough’ brigade, the centre seemed to cater for families and at least as many, if not more, women than men. I began to change my mind.
But was it for me? I have been a dancer since I was 10 months old (I am told) and even now in my sixties I love to move to music so where would a martial art fit in? But despite my love of dance, one of my power archetypes (a symbol that helps to give meaning to my life) has always been a warrior, plus the discipline, respect and ritual that such a person would embrace. Although Choi Kwand Do is predominantly a self-defence art, I began to see that should defending be insufficient in itself to repel an aggressor, I would be willing to learn how to take stronger measures.
I expected to find this distasteful, but there has been a time in my life when I have been physically attacked and severely injured. I don’t expect to freeze if such a thing should happen to me again. I wondered whether the practice, especially when working with a more experienced partner would raise my fear: but that didn’t happen. I realised that I had developed trust in myself, my teachers and my fellow students.
One of my first self-learnings was that there was a fire deep inside that would give strength to a fist or foot. When working with a partner using a shield I watched to see whether this fire would turn itself into something uncontrolled; wishing to hurt, but it never did. Still, it seems good to watch and say as Mr Pinker said to me today ‘where did that come from?’.
My body isn’t strong in build, but it can become effective if the energy and the intention come together. I have watched my teachers carefully. They, (usually Mr Pinker and sometimes Mr Butcher) hold us all with deep concentration. I try to bring my concentration to a quieter place and to let the over-thinking and worrying drop away. Sometimes this is hard to achieve, but at other times, it just flows and I feel I can too. For me this concentration is a quiet, centred mind, not a babbling ‘you should do it this way or that way’ sort of mind.
Dancing taught me that the body, the heart and the spirit concentrate to bring the will together to act. After watching Nureyev the great ballet dancer leap from the wings seemingly six feet in the air I have always know that mind alone cannot do that. Choi requires this integration of mind/body/spirit too.
Perhaps the most painful realisation at first was not just that I wasn’t very good at remembering what I had learnt from one week to the next in class, but that I really disliked that this was so. I watched my ego have its way with some amusement (but not always).
So what is it that my ego wants and clamours for. I suppose it wants me to be (and to be seen as being good at Choi Kwang Do). I took this into my silent sitting and only gradually did it leave me be. I realise that what I want to want is to bring grace, discipline and kindness to my practice as well as the expected form.
One day that I remember well was when I was practicing my white belt pattern and losing my place many times. Suddenly, I felt a wave of grief come up from my feet and I thought I would begin to cry. Eugene spotted this and asked me what was the matter (or something like that). The feeling was strong and petulant and very young. I realised that I was probably about 4 in that moment and experiencing a time when I felt shame at not being able to learn.
Somehow the Choi had re-energised some undealt with ’stuff’ and allowed it into my consciousness for healing. I was feeling deep shame and very much wanted to run away out of the room. I also knew that it was ok to stay there like that and it would be safe enough for the feelings to be there until they weren’t.
That didn’t happen again until I froze at my first grading when I was able eventually to breath my way through it and maintain equilibrium. The lesson Choi taught me here I think is that I cannot always know everything, but I can maintain integrity if I develop a deeper understanding of my self and know what is arising in my consciousness in any given moment. If what is arising is egoic and self disparaging, then there is centering and focusing to be done before I can apply myself as true student to the art.
But all of the above takes time, so the journey from one belt to another might be rather slower for me than for some others. I wonder whether others think about Choi as I do: I would love a conversation if anyone is interested.
Another important part of my beginning is learning to be part of the group (whoever is in it at any given time). I am both very at ease within and also happy on the edges of groups. The ritual greetings and handshaking are just wonderful: I love it. I’m sure I bow much more often than everyone else, but it just feels so right!!
The integrating of the different grades, ages, experience and strengths of the individuals within the group amaze me. I keep expecting everyone to get into a muddle, but it rarely happens. No-one appears to resent having a milder, gentler practice because their partner may be older or less able (or if they do, they are prepared to put it to one side which is admirable).
No-one is ever scolded for getting something wrong: everything that is effortful or a step forward is noted and praised. I just love carrot not stick teaching. I find disrespectful and unconscious treatment hard to receive or to witness and I have never seen it anywhere in the school. I am grateful to Mr Pinker and Mr Butcher and other teachers for what they are able to offer me.
One last piece of learning touches on the area of respect. I had been having a conversation with another person about something he was wearing when he replied in a way not in keeping with the family atmosphere of the centre. Mr Butcher reminded him of what was expected. What Sir said enabled me to question my own naivety in starting the conversation which took an unexpected turn and not extricating myself from it immediately. Innocence and simplicity are valuable attributes and deserve to be guarded well.
So as you see, my first few months of being a Choi student have taught me so much more than where to put my arms and legs. Someone famous (whose name I forget) said that ‘performance without integrity is disastrous’. I can see both being co-created for us and within us in the Choi classes and I am very grateful.
Jan Storey