“Chutzpah. Nothing but ego-driven chutzpah”
That has been my brain for the last few days as I try to keep going with setting up The Qi Gong Center. Not that my brain has been alone in this derision. I’ve also been asked why I don’t just go join the local Tai Chi center. “But Tai Chi is a martial art. It’s gorgeous; I love it but it’s rigorous and exacting. Qi Gong is its ‘gentle mother’ and so much more accessible to more people.” Yeah, but what’s your ‘elevator speech?’ “my what? It’s bad enough that I talk to myself in all sorts of places, elevators included; I need to give speeches now?” And who are you partnered with, who else is in on this with you? “Well, no one exactly. I have people who love the idea and are very psychologically supportive, will maybe even help with web design but basically…well, more than basically…it’s me. Just me. I just want to do it.”
But now I’m wondering why. I’m an introvert; I don’t network; I can’t schmooze worth a damn. I’ve never played well with others which is why I usually find a way to work for myself. Even when I taught University, the system left me to do what I pleased and I quit teaching when I got a department chair who wanted me to be a “team player.” So what am I doing trying to or thinking that there’s any way I can possibly become a “center” for anything? Isn’t that making me assume an enormous ego when all of my Taoist teaching tells me I should let go of ego? Isn’t that making me the center of the universe?
There is no answer for me here, no easy phrase that will give me an out. But sometimes even a lone wolf needs to howl into the communal macrocosm and be heard.
And then continue to trudge on through the snowbanks. Alone.
The Qi Gong Center of South Central Wisconsin now has its own domain name and a web hosting site (WordPress, of course) although nothing is on the site yet. My Indiegogo campaign has raised about a third of what I need for this and has 25 days left to go. While the center may exist in Wisconsin, the site will be for all, so please help me support it by spreading the word. The campaign can be found at IndieGoGo
Thanks and best of Qi to all.
I’m raising money through Indiegogo for the formation of The Qi Gong Center of South Central Wisconsin. It’s a very small campaign and donations of even $1.00 make me not only happy but positively delirious. I’d love to spread the health and meditative benefits of Qi Gong throughout the area (and beyond, if possible). You can find the campaign at http://igg.me/at/QiGongSCW/x/2582175 . So, spread the word if you could through your own blogs and facebook pages. Thank you, thank you.
Does everyone have someone they can reach out to with whom they play no roles, someone who answers the call when the crying out is about to burst through, someone who can listen but not judge? Does everyone have this person except me?
Why do I even ask this? The question started with a cup of green tea, a discussion of a wilderness adventure–not mine–and my meditation teacher simply asking: Who do you call when you feel tears of exhaustion or fear or longing for what never was boiling up inside you ready to push the lid off the pan of sanity and spill out? I thought I could answer but then…
Nothing came. I could think of no one with whom I don’t fulfill a role, know the expectations held, the assumptions made. Oh, I suppose I could have taken the glib way out and said “the cats.” But even they have roles for me: food lady; nighttime body heat provider; lap in a storm. I have many, many supportive people around me, supportive cats, too, but no one off stage. I found myself sitting looking blankly at him, rather the way the turkeys inhabiting the neighborhood look at me if I request use of my driveway when they are sunning.
His return gaze was equally blank. “You don’t have someone?” As generous as he is with his time and tea, he spoke with an “are you just trying to get sympathy” impatience. “No, no, I don’t think I do.” Both of us deftly moved the conversation back to the new Dancing Shiva statue he had bought.
And I was left only wondering whether everyone else knew the answer to his question. Even the Shiva, who dances only because she has one foot solidly planted on a small body below her, dances because she is grounded; even she seems to know.
I think I’ll pretend this was another koan.