Last month I said goodbye to my baby. Last night I said goodbye to my Shifu.
Mizong Quan. Igwe banter. Lu Jun Hai. I bought him scotch whiskey. I travelled to Great Portland Street tube ever Wedesday. Half past six until 8 o’clock. Others in the class stayed behind to learn Shifu’s family Taiji style. He wrote the manual on the Qing Ping system of Daoist swordfighting.
I’ve grown up a bit over the 4 years I’ve studied under him. Almost 7 under and on top of her.
We practiced kung fu in the rooms of John Nash’s regency circus overlooking Regents Park. Sometimes on Summers evenings, we would be moved from our regular haunts of the Portland Room or the Theatre, upstairs, to the grand Gulbenkian Room. Huge ceilings. Floor to ceiling windows.
Here is my Shifu demonstrating the Qing Ping swordstyle in village hall in Essex. Thanks to Sinkpoint. I support his conclusion.
Even now, a month on and my toes are gripping the carpet through woollen socks.
I’m dropping mizong poses, questions about the hips. I don’t know how low should they go? My Shifu is 76 and he can drop his to the floor. I am unsure as to what should I practice. I’ve just heard the most horrendous screaming outside the Omega Works on Hermitage Road. Literally a terrifying wail was happening for a couple of minutes. It didn’t sound human but it definitely came from a large creature that was in great pain. And it floated around and moved off, into the night. I hope someone else heard it. It has left me quite terrified. It’s 01.44am.
My sword looms large in the shadows at the edge of my bedroom.
Qing Ping. Qing Ping.
Black Swallow Skims the Sea. The Barbarian Offers a Gift. The Purple Swallow Flies on its Side. Scoop the Seabed to find Pearls 🙂 🙂