I was late again, it being a Sunday, but it didn’t really matter. A couple of kids and their father watched me do the sword form; the boys wanted to play with the sword, which was taller than the younger boy. His older brother grabbed it and started waving it around, so I took it back and astonished them by driving it up to the hilt in the ground, and then then into the trunk of a tree. It’s my collapsible practice sword, of course, but they didn’t know that.

I did some form work with Teacher X for a while, but then he grabbed me by the arm and literally pulled me over to practice with a teacher from another group.

It started out well enough; the guy wasn’t too violent, and we got into a give-and-take rhythm. He paused a few times, which I took to mean he felt he had me in a bind, but I suppose I am not yet advanced enough to realize such subtle conditions. I tried a few experimental “attacks” but he would just fold up like a chair, such was his agility. I would push to a point that I felt appropriate and then let go.

As we continued, he grew more aggressive and a little antsy. I realized that his friends, possibly his students, were watching us practice, and he might feel some pressure. “Come on!” they called, “What is this, free massage class?” The teacher began to try harder and pushed me off balance a couple of times, but not very decisively. I didn’t have anything invested in the exchange except gaining experience, so I was pretty relaxed. The teacher, on the other hand, began to launch quick shoves that Weeble would have been proud of. Not only was this kind of thing a step backwards, it often didn’t work. I felt a bit disappointed at the way things were going and told him I was tired. Still, it was educational.

It was raining pretty hard yesterday, so I didn’t attend practice at CKS Hall. After spending most of the day inside working on photos, I decided I needed to get out of the house today and make up for my laziness by going to the 2/28 Park, where our group practices on Sundays.

I’d never been to a Sunday practice before; I’d assumed that it would be just like the one on Saturdays before, but I noticed immediately as I exited the subway station how many more people were there than on Saturdays. Not only were there more people; they were a lot more aggressive than the Saturday group. Our group was somewhat scattered; I saw Yang Qing-feng practicing with a stranger in black nearby, and Mr. V with another stranger in another spot. I asked him where Teacher X was, and he pointed at the horse statue a ways away, where Teacher X was teaching a group of new students.

I found Little Mountain Pig not far from our usual spot, and decided to put my things down there and find a place to go through the forms, despite the fact that everyone else in the vicinity was wrestling, pushing or downright fighting. After I finished I spotted Little Qin, which was unusual; I hadn’t seen him at practice for months, so I went over to say hello. We practiced for a while, and as usual I learned a lot from him; Little Qin always has a different perspective on things, both physically and mentally. It’s too bad he has so little time to come to practice; he also teaches students at the military base where he’s stationed. As we were practicing, the sun came out for one glorious moment, raising the temperatures noticeably.

A large circle had been scratched into the sand nearby, and guys were using it in sumo fashion, trying to push and/or knock each other out of the ring or on the ground, their clothes covered in dirt and their arms and necks red from all the grabbing and twisting. As I went through the sword form, I noticed a guy watching me very closely. He was dressed in dark clothes and carried a sword of his own. I tried not to let it distract me, but I was ready for all kinds of criticism when I finished. Instead, he just clapped. I’m sure it was insincere, as I was just doing the first warm-up form and wasn’t really into it yet.

I practiced with LM Pig a while, going through the usual drills with him; I have to say they help a lot, though they’re a little monotonous. Then Pig pulled me over to the group of guys who had been wrestling rather violently before, and before I knew it I was practicing with them, one by one. The first guy wasn’t nearly as big of a challenge as I’d thought he would be. He kept looking for chances and I wasn’t giving him any. The second guy, a short fellow with protruding teeth, did better and forced me over a few times. Then I was practicing with an older guy whom the others obviously looked up to. He played his cards close to his chest, pushing tentatively, advancing slowly and taking his time to understand how I moved, becoming slowly more aggressive. All the while all of the guys were complimenting me on my form and my “softness” which they said was a hallmark of Teacher X’s students. I knew better than to take their words seriously, though; they were just being polite. Finally the older guy stopped, and another man who had been very complimentary stepped up. This, I gathered, was their leader and possibly their teacher. He demonstrated his “softness” to me with a few moves where his arms were completely rigid. Maybe he was alluding to some strange definition of “soft” that I’ve never heard of before, but to me he was anything but yielding. In fact, none of them were really yielding at all and seemed very rigid to me.

It was approaching 3 p.m. by that point, and I was hungry for lunch, so I took my leave. It was a very interesting and educational experience, and makes me wonder if perhaps I should try to attend more Sunday practices at the park.