Show up and follow along

I’ve been studying Taichi for a little over two years and (evidently) am picking it up relatively quickly. I wouldn’t think so, except that a fellow student recently asked if I had any “tips” on how he might start learning faster. Do I watch videos? He wondered. Practice at home? No, no I do not. 

I posited that maybe my decade-plus of Aikido training has primed my system in a certain way to help it absorb the forms—not just the choreography but the intention behind each gesture, subtleties of balance, footwork, things like that.

That’s part of it, sure, but since my friend can’t magically backfill the last ten years of his own life with martial arts training, I looked to something more universally available: our state of mind. What was mine when I first stepped into the dojo over a decade ago, or when I showed up in this park to learn this art? 

Zero idea

It was this: I had zero idea what I was doing, and decided (for whatever blessed reason) not to try to figure it out. I accepted my own ignorance of what was happening, showed up empty to every session, and did my best to follow along. 

I was not planning a path to third-degree black belt in Aikido. A first-degree black belt (or a belt of any color at all) was impossible; was never going to happen. I wasn’t even sure if I’d show up for the next class most of the time.

And now, I’m just doing Taichi for fun, to hang out outside with cool people. I’m not trying to get anywhere with it.

If I was planning anything beyond the next moment, the next movement, my rational mind would move right in and scupper the works. Luckily, in these settings, and again for whatever reason, it takes a backseat.

Sparing my friend this internal monologue (a rarity - he got lucky!), I simply said, “I assume I don’t know what I’m doing, I give up all hope of ever mastering the forms.” I watched as, amused and intrigued, this lovely gem of a human began to consider what that might feel like: to have no clue… and to be fine with that. 

I don’t know if it helped, or will help. I hope so. But it got me wondering about how this concept of having no idea can help us outside of learning a new practice—how indeed it could be a practice.

Show up and follow along

This is something else that all the most impactful teachings in my life have in common: to engage with them at all I must show up empty and surrendered. I must place myself with full trust in the hands of the teachers and guides committed to helping me navigate this mysterious pursuit—and (importantly) who see me as fully capable of taking the ride. 

Looking at the rest of my life now—literally sweeping my gaze around my home and out my windows—I wonder how I might this apply to moments that I’m not in the dojo, or on the Camino, or in ritual space. 

In other words, what is it to show up and follow along on a plain old day? 

Well, what do you want to learn?

I guess the first question is what are we following along to? What is our deepest longing in this life? What do we want to learn, to know, to feel? 

For me, the longing has always been a clearer, more abiding connection to my calling, and to the mystery at large (or the divine, the universe, capital-L Life, spirit… choose your moniker.) Painfully slowly, I’ve been learning to let the mystery guide me. And it does. Just like those great teachers, it trusts me. It wants things to go well for me. It’s always showing me the way.

And I’m finding that the emptier of plans that I am, the easier it is to hear that guidance.

This may look (like it does to my Taichi friend) like hard work and deep study. Really, though, I’m just being moved. 

But you see—it’s imperative to have no idea. Literally. We have to—just for a couple of seconds at a time—surrender all ideas, plans, assessment, anticipation, and just feel. Just listen. Ask “What does this moment call for? And this one?” 

Just, ya know… show up, follow along.

A more concrete example

A client gave me a perfect example of this this week. Their longing of late has been to reconnect to their body and build some robustness. On Monday they were moved to spend his whole afternoon buying and cooking vegetables. They’re also trying to build a business, and their rational mind had looooads of ideas about the how to spend time they were “wasting.” 

But some greater understanding anchored them in the activity at hand. Their body, after all, was the vehicle for all the great work they were doing, and they had to prioritize its care. However, it wasn’t this rationale that had them happily chopping and sauteing; it was simply what they were moved to do, and they did it, and the inner critic remained a tiny mosquito that buzzed around the greater truth. 

They were happy. And their work did not suffer. The opposite: they were able to show up with more capacity for it due to their improving wellness. 

What about you?

This is obviously a burgeoning idea and I’d love to know how you’re working with it. What do you long for? How do you get quiet(er) and listen for what is yours to do? How do you let go of plans and let yourself simply be moved? How do you show up and follow along to your own life? Please share in the comments.