Turtle Planet by Yun Rou

Turtle Planet by Yun Rou

Author:Yun Rou [Rou, Yun]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642502725
Publisher: Mango Media
Published: 2020-03-16T13:58:12+00:00


They So Want Us Gone

There are days I just can’t stand still. It’s a dirty little monk secret, but it’s true. During first twenty years or so of meditation, I occasionally warred with the immobility required for so-called “Standing Pole” exercise, the art of making like a tree without leaving. At those times, I would meditate whilst walking. These days, even though I can reliably stay still, often for hours at a time, I still enjoy a good walking meditation session.

One reason it’s so much fun is the variety of walking options available. Among these, one can move forward or backward at the same time as executing classical tai chi arm circles, one can “offer fruit” like an ape while stepping forward, walk backward flapping one’s arms like a crane, or even slide one’s hands up and down the front and rear centerlines of the body in imitation of a lumbering bear.

Today, because I’ve had too much tea and am not quite ready to settle down, I take a walk around the park. Even though I am in motion, my eyes are narrowed to slits, my breathing is slow and regular, and my attention is totally fixed upon my internal environment. I’m not likely to step on any glass or stroll into a fire hydrant, but otherwise, I am out of tune with the random, excessive, and often irrational vicissitudes of other people’s behavior. The motorized skateboarder who nearly mows me down goes by without response from me, ditto the bicyclist up on one wheel listening to headphones, eyes closed. The water snake that slithers over my shoe is not booted up and away, and the naked lunatic twirling a black plastic contractor cleanup bag like a limp and flapping baton does not my equilibrium disturb.

It’s business as usual here in the park, and I take advantage of trees for shade just as I always do, though there are moments where gaps in the canopy allow the sun a brief shot at my bald pate. As my mind begins to settle down, I find a straight tree surrounded by flat ground—no protruding roots to stumble over, thank you—and constrain my walking to a circle with the tree as the center around which I turn. This kind of walking, from a relatively recent style of kung fu known as Eight Trigram Palms (Baguazhang), emphasizes a shuffling, so-called “mud-slinging” step that disallows a raised heel or toe. As I circle the tree, I follow a sequence of eight different hands positions until, slowly, I stop moving completely, comfortable in my stillness, in tender agreement with the tree.

It is then that I notice I’m aloft again, with islands below, widely spread and covered in mist. I fly first above snow-capped mountains and then over ever-greener landscapes. Despite my high velocity, I see temples, factories, seaports, and cities, all dotted with the rising sun flag that tells me I’m looking at Japan. Then I’m over open water again and then over white sandy beaches and the lush landscape of Okinawa.



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