Parks in the cold

Bright sun with bitter cold and wind in Tokyo today – perfect chance to bundle up in layers and start moving outside.

I make a few circuits through tai ji 48 outside my home but the sunlight is blocked, so I venture off a few hundred meters to Kami 3 Hiroba, a small park-like area where I used to practice near-nightly a few years back.

The sunlight is good but the exposure throws me off a bit. There had been a good border of overgrown trees and shrubs which provided a feeling of sanctuary. I could hear the people and cars passing by on the street, but they would have to be really looking to see me.

Earlier this autumn the city came in and cleaned it all up, leaving only the large trees standing and a perfect view into the park from the road.

No reason not to perform in front of people, so I got down to work, continuing the 48 form and almost instantly forgot the gawking passersby anyway. I stopped now and then for a sip of hot water from the thermos and sat at a make-shift table on wobbly benches. Rather uncharacteristic of Japan, where everything is new and bright and shiny. This table and benches have been out in the rain and wind for several years now and they show it. They have also hosted their share of late night drinking sessions and are thus much appreciated. I hope they will remain for many years to come, broken down and rough.

Sitting in the wind in the park took me back to Tao Ran Ting, the park in Beijing where Liu Jingru Laoshi sips tea and teaches each day. My first trip over there was in late October and it was chilly and windy, though the harshness of Beijing winter had yet to descend. No, it was still reasonable outside, though we warmed ourselves with regular sips of tea.

I learned a form using the yuan yang yue there, a pair of curved, pointy, multi-bladed weapons written about elsewhere in this blog. The motions of the form took me up high and down low, and weaving back and forth across the practice area, occasionally halting suddenly to avoid a hapless, totally unconcerned passerby ( If I were walking through a park and saw a crazy foreigner running around with bladed weapons, I might take it upon myself to take a few steps to the side, rather than stop, stare, and then continue walking directly into the practice area….). I changed clothes midway through each practice to avoid catching cold from sweat-soaked shirts.

Liu Laoshi was quite worried about me catching cold. Beijingers, of course, had nothing to worry about because they had grown up in this climate. One day, a long-time student of Liu Laoshi’s dropped by. It was colder and windier that day. He started walking ba gua circles. A growl from Liu Laoshi and his stance got lower. Another growl and he paused to remove his coat and shirts. Liu Laoshi kept him circling several more minutes, until sweat was dripping and steam was rising – and still he circled. Maybe the lesson was for me after all. Once it was my turn again, I got down lower, swung out wider – and didn’t feel the cold.

I now recall another park, this one in Lincoln. Out by Holmes Lake, on the opposite side of town from all the usual university environs.

One night three of us went out for a dip. It had been a long night of practice – the kendo was exhausting on its own. Then there was about three minutes to change and get a swallow of water before the really exhausting workout began, karate. But those were the good old days when my energy was inexhaustible. Tell me what to do, and I did it.

So when, after karate one teacher asked me and a fellow brown belt friend to go out for a swim, neither of us hesitated. The dojo follows a pretty strict, traditional hierarchy and there is little interaction between those with and without dan ranks. The teachers were not elevated to cult status by any means, but this was clearly a special event, a chance to see something of the teacher outside the dojo, in the real world.

We drove across town quickly on the late night streets. In the car, everything was nice and toasty, though a small pit was growing in my stomach, wondering what was in store for us.

We arrived at the lake, got out of the car…and into the cold. Did I mention it was winter? And there was not exactly a lack of wind, if you know what I mean. Damn, it was xxxxing cold. A thin coating of ice ran around the edge of the lake – it hadn’t yet frozen over, but our first few steps into the water would have to break that thin layer.

I moved toward the water, trying to psyche myself up a bit, then hesitated. Of course we had all left our coats in the car – this was to be some special winter training, after all. I figured we might wade in up to our knees, or maybe really go after it and go waist-deep. But our teacher had just started – off came the top of his karate gi or uniform, then the trousers. Friend and I looked at each other, shrugged, and shucked. There was no way to back out in front of the teacher. Off came the last shred of protection from the wind. Now it was cold.

Our teacher shared none of my hesitation – he was already plowing through the water. Nothing to do but steel oneself. There was an instant of cold as my first foot entered the water. Another step, and another, as the cold rose up my legs. Then it was like the cold had turned to heat. NOW it was fucking cold.

Once in, why not go all the way? Leap up in the air, submerge totally, bounce off the sandy bottom and leap up again and feel the wind. A brief moment of exhileration, maybe even a second submerging and leaping. OK, wet in the wind, this is beyond cold. As expected, we ran through a few kata in the water, maybe chest deep, trying to appear oblivious to the cold. Whew, enough of that, plow through the water and out into the cold – which in the wind, seemed colder than it had been in the water.

And then NOT as expected, our teacher went back into the water. My friend and I looked at each other, shrugged again, and moved back into the water, trying not to betray any lack of enthusiasm. Was it colder the second time around? I don’t know. It was just damn cold, beyond comparison.

Another kata or two, then it was time to finish up, dry off, and shiver in front of the heaters going full blast. Hell yes we ran the heater on the way back – we weren’t, after all, masochists.