Christmas Energy

The Yellow Emperor meets Kung Fu Panda:

Once Upon a Time In Chinatown

After reading from 365 Tao, my morning habit, and then rereading Carl Jung's Foreword and Richard Wilhelm's Introduction to the I Ching, the classic yellow cloth-bound volume I have consulted from time to time since 1967, (don't we all have one of those?--actually I have two, one defiled with notes and dates, and another, quite pristine) I made my way, somewhat philosophically set,  to Chinatown for an event suggested by my Chinese painting teacher.

I wasn't quite sure what was happening, except that it would involve painting demonstrations.  Having recently been to two other exhibitions bookending the moon festival and national day (both the PRC's, Oct. 1, and Taiwan's, Oct. 10), I was game for anything.  I arrived on time at the Cultural Plaza, not to be confused with the co-located Cultural Center, but no one was there except some people randomly setting up some tables, or possibly removing them.  I looked for Lao Shi, then ducked into my favorite video/bookstore, where I chatted with my new friend. "We haven't known each other so long, but we communicate well," she said, after we talked about obscure Hong Kong TV actors and the kinds of movies I like (and she likes to sell).

She thinks I should move away from the kung fu/wu xia I've been buying from her, and watch some conventional drama.   I told her I got into Chinese films a long time ago with early drama directors like Zhang Yimou, Wong Kar Wai and Chen Kaige.  I used to bring home pre-US-release VCDs from Hong Kong. The kung fu is a recent preoccupation set off when looking for a particular Chinese film, I was directed by the clerk at Blockbuster from "Foreign Films" to "Martial Arts."  A whole new world, so to speak,  opened up for me!

She sold me another Raymond Lam TVB set, the curiously named "Twin of Brothers" (42 45-minute episodes) and a contemporary Taiwanese drama on DVD that cleverly comes with two audio CDs of the soundtrack music as well.  What a great concept!

I returned to the Plaza, and Lao Shi found me.  She introduced me to some friends who explained that the event was a carnival (a hard word for Taiwanese to say) for the various Chinese schools in Honolulu, to encourage the young kids to learn traditional Chinese culture.  We had a nice chat about Chinese politics and the idea that the people of Taiwan (identified as "China's largest island" in a PRC-produced middle-school textbook I've been reading) would be happy to reunite...if they weren't FORCED to and could maintain democracy.  Uh huh. And I suppose the new entity could be called Greater Taiwan. (With perhaps a new national day, Oct. 5, a middle ground compromise?)  We agreed that time is all that is needed. With 5,000 years of dynastic drama, what's 50 or another 100?

Then Lao Shi, having connected with the group of painters who were doing demonstrations (although not choosing to do demos herself) said to me, "You want to [do] painting?"  (I'm not making fun here; her English is 10,000 times better than my Mandarin). Which led to ME demonstrating bamboo and simple landscapes to young Chinese.  "If I can do this, you can do this," I said to a puzzled young boy.  The fellow painters seemed to think my work was acceptable, and Lao Shi had been more than gracious in introducing me.  I suppose it was no more strange than a Norwegian teaching Cantonese in Hong Kong.

Then the older painter to my left, who seemed to like my landscape, and was surprised I'd only been studying since January, put my name on my painting in his beautiful calligraphy.

My Name (not really)

Lao Shi said I had courage to do this; I said I hoped I hadn't embarrassed her.  In all honesty, I felt my work that afternoon was not that good: the ink was too thin, the paper was poor quality, the day was too hot, I was using someone else's brush, under some pressure to perform.  Still...

Then we watched some young dancers and a nice little king fu demo by a young boy; the mirror opposite of the event two weeks ago featuring Mr. Iron Crotch.

The New Power Jet?

Kung Fu Kitties

It is said that taijichuan was created by Zhang San Feng after observing a crane and a snake fighting. But the natural world must be full of martial arts inspirations. Cats practice regularly: Mini Tiger Fist! (Do check out the comments in this link.) Although they are natural fighters, they hone their skills good naturedly with each other, just like human martial artists. (Please indulge here my ongoing attempt to make Vincent Zhao/Chiu Man Cheuk a popular household god.) My home has been a feline martial arts studio for years. The late Mao O'wau, (below) and Mao Xiao Xin, a huge silver tabby, both neutered males, sparred in a sunny corner of my study every morning. Although sometimes it sounded vicious, blood was never drawn, and afterward they sprawled out together to nap in the sun. Very often the smaller O'wau took down the larger (oddly named) Xiao Xin with his more agile footwork and stance, the way smaller sumo wrestlers can topple much larger guys.

Mao O'Wau Ready for Push Hands

My current domestic cats, Fifi the Demure, and Lao Hu, the Yellow Emperor, don't practice together. My impression is when the male and female fight, it is serious (although I think Fifi taunts Lao Hu). Generally when he approaches her to play, she lays back ears, growls and hisses until he slinks away, trying to lose as little face as possible. We sometimes can entice them to hunt cooperatively with the laser pointer; Fifi is a pouncer (good technique for mice and geckos), Lao Hu is a chaser (good for rabbits and antelope). They clearly hand off the appropriate attack method depending on the behavior of the pointer.

So Lao Hu tries to engage me; when he was younger and more aggressive, he would shred my calves; now he attempts a kind of kitty wing chun with weapons retracted. I think I have to get him a student, a new young male kitten (Er Xiao Xin) to train.

Fifi actually bit me last week. I was brushing her dense coarse coat with one of those flat wire brushes; she loves it and demands the attention, but females sometimes exhibit a kind of electric attack moment in the midst of what appears to be orgasmic pleasure. Usually a sweet and affectionate cat who greets us with her fat belly exposed and feet flopping in the air, she drove all four fangs deep into my forearm. It hurt like hell for a week, but no infection set in. I was thinking of Sigfried and Roy; she didn't mean it, but I wouldn't want her around if she weighed 500 pounds. Or even 25. Well, maybe, but she certainly wouldn't get the regular grooming!

Fifi, Maybe Not So Demure