Meditation, or What I'm Doing Instead.

The floor is squishy under my legs, the cool, rubbery feel of red and blue squares that line the floor of the mostly square shaped room is a welcome relief after a long day in a steaming hot kitchen. The wall to my left are covered with various weaponry, targets, and Korean symbols I don't know the meaning of. A candle glows, sitting on a little plate to the front and left of me. I shouldn't be looking at the candle, I should be looking at the inside of my eyelids. To my right, the walls are lined with mirrors, 6 or 7, but I won't turn my head to look at them, that'd just be drawing attention to the fact that I shouldn't be looking at anything but my inner-self. Above the mirror, words in bold black have been set onto the wall. The tenets I should be focusing on from my cross legged position. I keep my back as straight as I can, my fists lightly closed, hanging over my knees, with a sigh that could be mistaken for a deep, cleansing breath, I let me eyes close, and study with intensity the inside of my eyelids.

I used to be really good at shutting down for meditation before and after class. I knew how to focus my attention to clear away everything that's been going on in my life. A white room, a big box, just a completely, empty, thoughtless place. If I thought of anything, it was related to the class, settling nerves before a class I knew could push my levels of endurance, hoping I didn't look like that idiot black belt who screwed up a really basic poomsae, or form. I sit there, looking like a giant white puff in my brand new, recently washed dobok that still has that rather satisfactory 'snap' when you punch or kick. My belt sits tied around my waist, still too solid to be very comfortable. It's been at least 4 years since I sat in this place, surrounded by the dedicated men and women who practice Tae Kwon Do. The last time, I was an instructor who loved being surround by the children she taught. I was strong and secure in my knowledge of my poomsae, my ho sin sool. I felt full of energy, I knew calmness in the face of the things that scared me, I could do anything I put my mind to. I was physical fit, mentally strong, and then, like things so often happen, I got swept up in life.

I left New York, by myself, for the first time in my life. I fell in love with the wild green grasses of Virginia, I grew to love the southern food I found myself surrounded by. I met new people who will be with my for the rest of my life, I did more public speaking then I thought I could handle, I was involved with prank wars, dinner parties, formal dances, and did homework and studied until I couldn't have remembered anything else if I tried. While it was the best three years of my life, I let my life be full of "fun" and "school" and didn't leave any time for "stay in shape". Admittedly, it wasn't for a lack of trying. There was a great gym on campus, and open for a large variety of hours, so not being able to get there before it was closed shouldn't have been an issue. I joined Capoeira, an Afro-Brazilian martial art that hides techniques through dance-like movements. I took kickboxing for my required gym class. Each and every time, I didn't follow through with it like I should have. I half-heartedly kicked through class, I quit Capoeira because I wasn't thrilled with the instructor and the requirements were overwhelming, and I hated the gym because it just "wasn't my thing".

Following graduation, I move back home, firmly believing I'd be back in Virginia before Thanksgiving, secure in a job, surrounded by my friends, and life would be as I wanted it to be. Instead, a year later, I'm working two part-time jobs, struggling to pay off my college bills, my car insurance. I found myself wanting to be no where but in my room, playing video games online with my friends, chatting, snacking, and just generally shutting myself off from my family, and anything else I didn't want to deal with. I didn't, and still don't, to a certain degree, that I needed to get out of my room. She wanted me to be more active, eat right, see a therapist, spend more time with the family. She offered to pay for me to return to Tae Kwon Do, which I readily agreed to. I had wanted to go back for a while, but I couldn't afford the classes. I figured if I did part of what she wanted, I could get away with everything else she requested (which, really, didn't work out as planned, but that's not what this particular entry is about).


So there I am sitting, cross legged, supposed to be myuk sang-ing (meditating), and all I can think about is what has brought me back to this point in my life. This particular class isn't the first one I've taken since I've restarted classes. It's maybe the second or third. The pain of that first class though is still lingering in my legs and torso, the ache stretching with every breath I take. I'd like to think that is why I can't focus on clearing my mind, but I know better than that. I should be thinking of the tenets written above the mirrors, I know I can shut my mind off to focus for class. I feel annoyance growing, tension wanting to move through my arms, clenching my fists that should be lightly closed over my knees.

I'll take the time to explain these tenets I should be focused on while sitting there. Do forgive me if the answers aren't complete precise, or accurate. This is coming from a woman who has been out of practice for 4 years, and without studying, or looking up the official meanings. Courtesy is pretty self-explanatory. Be respectful, do unto others, and so on and so forth. We've heard this "golden rule" type thing a million times before so I'll go by it. Integrity is also pretty straightforward, be honest. Well, while a lot of people remember to be honest with other people, we aren't always honest with ourselves. This my problem. I am honest with the people around me, but just like I don't agree with my mother on what needs to change in my life. If I am completely honest with myself, I know that her advice is sound, but I am very stubborn and resistance to change. Perseverance is the next tenet. It follows the idea that you should always finish what you start. That once you commit to something, follow it through to the best of you ability. Clearly, a tenet I've had some problem with over the last few years, especially when it comes to staying or getting into shape. Next, we comes Self-Control. I always found this one of the easier tenets to understand, and one of the hardest to follow. When you are sparring, or even doing practice without targets, intending to strike towards, but not contact the body of your partner, it teaches you not only where to strike, but to control yourself enough as not to cause harm. For me, this was easy. Sure, sometimes people walked away with an ache, but I have too. Split lips, bruises, one time I had a gash on my leg, but mistakes happen, and you learn from them. Self control in other aspects of my life is a little harder. I went to college. I drank more than I should have, I stayed up late, I got into trouble, I had fun when I should have been studying. I got angry and blew up at people I shouldn't have.

The final tenet is one that always seems to strike me. I'm not sure if it is the way the instructors I've had the greatest pleasure to work with said it with awe or reverence, or if I just imagine the importance in my head. Indomitable Spirit seems to follow this idea that you never give up, you never surrender. I'd like to think I've followed this better than any of the others, but I know it's not true. I'm full of self-defeat, I give up on everything too easily. While I believe I'm going to keep this blog going, I know how often I give up on writing. Writing seems to be the worst. It is what I want to do with my life, I want to be as famous as Tolkien, and three times as successful. I've given up on friendships, relationships, goals, activities, hopes, and dreams.

Tae Kwon Do probably saved my life. When I was in high school, I experimented with self-mutilation, I suffered from manic depression, and minor social anxiety. I dyed my hair so often that I actually met people who didn't know my natural hair color. I was a goth kid, an ska kid, and once just "that blonde chick". I had friends I'd later lose because I was pretending to be someone I wasn't. Sure, I still love strange music, and dark clothing, and suffer from a bad bout of depression from time to time, but it isn't what defines me anymore.

It was at Tae Kwon Do that I became someone I enjoyed being. It was, and still is, one of the few things that really seemed to come naturally to me. Some people are good at baseball, or painting, or writing wonders. For me, it was dance and Tae Kwon Do. I could feel the energy of a form, I could use it to hold myself in place, to not get lost in the thoughts that chased me away from sleep, and into harm. I was a good student, and a passably good instructor at one point. Going to class was the highlight of the day, I felt like I was a star, I had amazing form, I was dedicated. Man, there was nothing better than the praise of my fellow students and instructors. I would like to say I was humble, but I know better. I was more than a little cocky about it. I never outwardly would say anything, or, to my knowledge, smirk smugly, but there was more than a little delight in showing off my amazing skills. It was something I could truly take pride in. I found peace, calmness, in the same room I sat attempting to meditate in now. I loved the smell of burning incense, the feel of the squishy floor, the ebb and flow of energy through my body. Where most teenagers would have pouted and groaned about having to sit still for a couple of minutes and clearing their mind when there were parties to go to, or phone calls to make, my life centered around that calm.

I suffered through insomnia, and I found that through meditating every night before I went to bed, I could fall asleep without a problem. When I hit college, I lost the trick of it. When I tried to meditate, I'd just get more thoughts in than out, or would just not try at all, and suffer through the sleeplessness. When I felt the darkness pressing, meditation of a bright, white room where all my shadows disappeared. In a way, the things I learned in Tae Kwon Do, the tenets, the meditation, the self-confidence, and yes, even the pride, saved my life. It gave me goals, something to work towards, and gave me the means to work towards it. I had a place in the world, a way to find happiness, and success.

Four years later, $80,000 in debt, single, unsuccessful in finding a steady, full time job, and mostly friendless in this horseless town, I find myself sitting in this room again, frustrated at not being able to shut my mind down, to find my center of peace. My mind if full of thoughts at how much of an idiot I'll make out of myself this class, how much pain I'm in and going to be in again after I get home. I'm thinking about my faerie home, I'm thinking about tonight's Halo matches. I'm considering if I want Twizzlers or some sort of cookie for a snack, if it's a good idea to run by one of my jobs to grab my paycheck. I'm thinking about my best friend, what she's doing right now, and if she misses me like I'm missing her. I'm wondering about my friends and if their summers are going well, if they got the jobs they were trying to get. I'm wondering if I'll be able to look myself in the mirror tomorrow, I'm wondering if I'll be able to crawl outta bed. I'm trying not to cry as I look at my life. I'm trying to figure out if I'll have the strength to smile, to wear the mask, to do all that I need to do.

I should be meditating.

Instead, I'm sitting here wondering if Tae Kwon Do can save my life.