Gomdo & Me
About a month ago I stopped Gomdo as I needed to establish a better routine for my body. I regret quitting but I have little choice. Every time I went there I felt utterly exhausted, unable to concentrate any amount of energy into practicing this noble martial art. I struggled with learning the sequences due to my perpetual exhaustion, and so I could not enjoy it as much as I would have liked. My movements were weak, unco-oridinated and often hackish, and I hated it. It just wasn't me.
Gomdo, or "way of the sword" requires concentration of the mind, body and soul into one, channelled directly along the length of the sword. On a good day (and these were rare) I could almost feel the fluidity of my movements stroke the air like that of running my finger-tips in a pool of clear water. There were times when it felt like dancing, my dance partners being Trust, Honour, Strength.
When I had to hold the So-do-sae pose for minutes at a time, at first it hurt and often I would collapse, but then little by little I was able to focus and push the pain from my burning legs and aching arms along my sword, giving me strength to hold that position for longer. I remember the first few weeks of So-do-Sae, when I would whinge like an infant and my legs would collapse from under me. I would laugh at my embarassment, and Kim Sa Boo would say "first time, me too. Jogum...jogum....jogum... (little, little, little)". The last few weeks I was able to hold the position along side him, without faltering. Even if everything else I did was a complete disaster, this at least I am proud of, and I could feel that he was proud of me too.
And now that my health has improved, when I feel the need to be set free, I rush home, pick up my sword and climb 10 floors to the roof of my building. The roof is dark and fairly private, allowing me the chance to relax and brace myself without arrogant eyes criticising my every movement. It is in these moments that I perform better than I ever have done, and in a way I wish those eyes could see it. The enfolding darkness protects me as I turn and turn, slicing, blocking and thrusting, my energy coming from the core of my body and flowing to the tip of my sword. I am representing Truth, fighting for Understanding and against Ignorance. Then I would suddenly start dancing; movements I have never been taught nor witnessed but seem to the suit the sword perfectly. To an observer, my movements may not be correct or graceful, but I can feel the beauty in it. Sword-dancing is poetry, a form of expression that is me. Not the discipline and rigidity of Hae-dong, but the free-flow of core energy that knows no boundaries.
I am a free-spirit; I cannot be tamed.
Gomdo, or "way of the sword" requires concentration of the mind, body and soul into one, channelled directly along the length of the sword. On a good day (and these were rare) I could almost feel the fluidity of my movements stroke the air like that of running my finger-tips in a pool of clear water. There were times when it felt like dancing, my dance partners being Trust, Honour, Strength.
When I had to hold the So-do-sae pose for minutes at a time, at first it hurt and often I would collapse, but then little by little I was able to focus and push the pain from my burning legs and aching arms along my sword, giving me strength to hold that position for longer. I remember the first few weeks of So-do-Sae, when I would whinge like an infant and my legs would collapse from under me. I would laugh at my embarassment, and Kim Sa Boo would say "first time, me too. Jogum...jogum....jogum... (little, little, little)". The last few weeks I was able to hold the position along side him, without faltering. Even if everything else I did was a complete disaster, this at least I am proud of, and I could feel that he was proud of me too.
And now that my health has improved, when I feel the need to be set free, I rush home, pick up my sword and climb 10 floors to the roof of my building. The roof is dark and fairly private, allowing me the chance to relax and brace myself without arrogant eyes criticising my every movement. It is in these moments that I perform better than I ever have done, and in a way I wish those eyes could see it. The enfolding darkness protects me as I turn and turn, slicing, blocking and thrusting, my energy coming from the core of my body and flowing to the tip of my sword. I am representing Truth, fighting for Understanding and against Ignorance. Then I would suddenly start dancing; movements I have never been taught nor witnessed but seem to the suit the sword perfectly. To an observer, my movements may not be correct or graceful, but I can feel the beauty in it. Sword-dancing is poetry, a form of expression that is me. Not the discipline and rigidity of Hae-dong, but the free-flow of core energy that knows no boundaries.
I am a free-spirit; I cannot be tamed.
posted by Louise | 3:40 am
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