Firstly, we arrived in London via Paris, because apparently Air France doesn’t like England enough to fly directly there from Detroit… losers. We crashed there, visited Winston Churchill’s house at Chartwell, his grave, and his birthplace at Blenheim Palace – both of which were fantastic. I can now say that I’ve stood in the room where arguably the greatest statesman of the 20th century was born. No big deal. After that we visited Oxford and had a grand auld time there; I really liked Oxford. Lots of fun. After we finished our time in London, seeing the War Cabinet bunkers from which Churchill and his aides directed the British portion of World War Two as well as Buckingham Palace (featuring the changing of the Guard), we took ourselves down to Portsmouth and thence by ferry to Brittany, landing in St. Malo. Beautiful little French port town; it’s a walled city, so we got to go up on the battlements and wander around taking pictures. After St. Malo the journey continued on to Caen, where we would spend the majority of our time in Normandy. We saw the grave of William the Conqueror, the Bayeux Tapestry, the Bayeux Cathedral,D-Day beaches, Pointe du Hoc, the American D-Day Cemetary, and most sobering of all, the German Normandy Cemetary. About 22,000 German soldiers buried there, not all of them named and some of them in a mass grave. It was a sobering reminder that no matter what we may say about the Nazis and the Germans in World War Two, they were humans too, and they died too.

After we finished in Caen, we were on to Paris!… aaaand I found it to be underwhelming, honestly. The Musée d’Orsays, the Eiffel Tower and the Arch of Triumph were all impressive (I didn’t see the Louvre, sorry, deal with it), but Paris itself I found to be loud, crowded and smelly. The same goes for Versailles, which we saw on our way in to Paris – resplendent, magnificent, but just too crowded. Didn’t have enough time to see it properly, either. Apart from that, I really enjoyed my trip. DONE, on to the rest! Now for my promised martial arts blog – today, the fabled arts of the Shaolin Five Animals style.

Shaolin Five Animals

Shaolin Five Animals is one of the more fabled of the Chinese martial arts, although not many actually know what the Five Animals are. Some think they are Snake, Eagle, Monkey, Tiger and Crane. Others think that the Mantis fits somewhere in the quintet. In reality, Mantis, Monkey and Eagle are separate schools of wushu. The Five Animals are the Tiger, Leopard, Crane, Snake and the Dragon. These five were selected because the founders of Five Animals saw that these five together would answer the problems that they saw in the wushu of their day.[1]

Chinese wushu, as far as is known, actually originates in India. Bodhidharma, also known as Buddha, journeyed to the Orient in the mid-late 500’s A.D., and brought with him the physical exercises and mental methods that now typify wushu. He spent time with the Shaolin monks, and recognized that physically they were far too weak; they could not perform basic chores around their temple or defend their temple from enemies. Therefore, Bodhidharma imparted to them a handful of basic exercises. From these came Shaolin Wushu. There were already some martial arts in China, but these were seen as too focused on physical strength and not focused enough on mental discipline. A martial artist named Zhue Yuen recognized this and began to travel throughout China reformatting Shaolin Wushu. During this time, Yuen met two other famous martial artists named Li Sou and Bai Yu Feng. Together these three men formed “Wu Xing Quan,” translated as “Five Animal Form.” Wu Xing Quan was comprised of 128 movements divided into five groups. These groups were modeled after the motions of the five animals previously mentioned. These groupings were created to be practiced in conjunction with each other so as to help the individual develop five aspects of the body: physical or muscular strength, bone strength, vitality, chi energy (an inner energy, natural to each person), and spirit strength. According to Bai Yu Feng, these were the essential areas for a martial artist to develop.[2]

The most surprising of the Five Animals is the Dragon. Everybody knows that the wondrous dragons of myth are fictitious, so if the motions were based off of the movements of the animal, then how did the founders of Five Animals know how a dragon moved? The answer is simple: they didn’t know how a dragon moved. They created the Dragon form based on what their folklore told them about dragons. They knew that the dragon was a serpentine creature, so the physical motions of Dragon are similar to those of Snake. They knew that the dragon had claws, so they incorporated a hand technique similar to Tiger’s trademark claw hand. They formed Dragon from what they knew of dragons. Dragons, in Buddhist folklore, are oceanic spirit creatures, and are though to have great physical strength as well as great inner, spiritual strength. Thus, Dragon is a more internal form, and the movements of Dragon are softer and more circular, yet with great energy. The soft power of Dragon’s movements suddenly morphs into hard power upon contact for a strike.[3]

Dragon was created to form a balance between Tiger’s raw power and Snake’s soft, flowing movements. While Tiger mandates brute force, Dragon contributes much in the way of internal training by enhancing the practitioner’s spiritual energy. This difference is evident even in Dragon’s signature hand technique. This is known as the long zhua, which literally translates as “dragon claw.” Locking the fingers in a flat, wide claw creates the long zhua, as if you were grasping a thick pole. The long zhua is used to lock an opponent’s attacking limb and to pull or push it aside, or as a battering, blunt attack.[4]

As you can imagine, practicing Dragon, or any martial art for that matter, requires training. Dragon focuses primarily on arm and hand strength. Students develop these by lifting and holding empty jars out from their body. When this can be accomplished with ease, the jars are slowly filled with increasing weight, until the shoulders and arms are very strong.[5]

The second of the Five Animals is the Tiger. China does not indigenously possess lions, thus the tiger ranks as their King of Beasts. The tiger attacks fast and hard; being attacked by one is like being hit by a freight train. It is the Orient’s strongest, most aggressive land animal, and the wushu form corresponds. Tiger is a form that emphasizes all-out aggression and frontal attack. Internal training possesses no place in Tiger, because Tiger’s strength is strictly physical. Emphasis is instead placed on the strength of the student’s upper torso: fingers, hands, arms, shoulders, back, and neck. This allows for powerful stances and strong waist movement, which are key to delivering any sort of power in a technique.[6]

This emphasis on strength of a purely physical nature is reflected in Tiger’s signature attack, the hu zhua, translated as “tiger claw.” This is a hand technique, formed by curling the hand into a circular claw, as if grasping a tennis ball. The tips of the fingers are used to strike, and on impact, they curl and tear at the opponent. For Tiger, training methods essentially identical to those of Dragon are used, save that Tiger students condition their fingertips and fingers. They do this by repeatedly catching small, airborne sandbags with the fingertips.[7]

The Snake places at the top of Five Animals’ “Most Easily Remembered” list. Snake is the third of the Five Animals, and also the most passive. Developed to be the polar opposite of Tiger; it focuses almost exclusively on internal training and development of chi power. The snake is a very reserved and cool animal, thus Snake is very gentle and soft, focusing on internal strength. Following this rule, Snake uses no fist strikes whatsoever, and no noise is made during combat. While some Tiger practitioners will literally growl or shout to add power during a fight, the Snake is silent. Instead of fists or claws, Snake uses the fingertips to execute pinpoint accurate vital strikes on pressure points and weak areas. Mimicking the fluidity of a snake’s motions, there are no motions in Snake that are specific blocks or attacks; everything can be used one way or another. The movements are very soft and circular, yet when they connect there is definite power to them. Hence, Snake requires precision, accuracy and smooth execution. A Snake student keeps his body moving during the fight, never standing still. He must be relaxed, yet focused in order to best utilize his chi energy.[8]

As a unique facet among the Five Animals, Snake has no especial training methods. The assumption is that the Five Animals student will be practicing all Five at once, and that the training methods of the other Four will sufficiently condition and train the student.[9]

Crane places fourth among the Five Animals. In Shaolin, the crane is a symbol of longevity and vitality; a patient, calm animal with great strength. Crane, therefore, develops both internal and external strength. It hones the student’s chi and strengthens their bones and muscles. Crane’s movements are similar to those of Snake: soft, relaxed, and circular. Crane’s motions are designed to prevail with minimum effort, using soft power until the strike connects, at which point a quick, hard power is used. The motions mimic the wings of a crane by using long-hand and short-hand techniques. The short-hands are generally joint-locks, limb-locks and other techniques designed to incapacitate an opponent’s limbs. The long-hand techniques are pressure-point strikes on the opponent’s vital areas. Both long- and short-hand techniques use the he zui, translated as “crane’s beak.” This is a hand technique formed by clamping together all four fingers and the thumb into a single pointed striking unit and bending the wrist slightly. This formation allows for strikes and also a hooking block to scoop an enemy’s arm aside.[10]

To effectively use these techniques, the student must condition their fingertips and wrists to withstand the force of the blows. This is Crane’s conditioning focus: the hands. Snake has added chi to his hands, and Dragon and Tiger have added power. Crane adds resilience. The student conditions his fingers by performing repeated he zui strikes on sandbags. Once comfortable with that, the student switches to rough gravel. For wrist conditioning, the student performs pushups on his bent wrists. Crane students also practice deep relaxation, focus and concentration.[11]

The fifth and final of the Five Animals is the Leopard. In China, the leopard is second only to the tiger for strength and ferocity, despite the fact that pound for pound, leopards are stronger. The leopard has a power as solid as that of the tiger, but the leopard is a sleeker, faster animal. Their power is more loose, more relaxed. It stems from agility, speed and balance. Therefore, while both Tiger and Leopard are ferocious and strong, Leopard focuses more on speed and fluidity, resulting in a quicker and more dance-like form, balanced between Crane and Tiger. It develops speed as well as strength, emphasizing strong stances, footwork-speed, strike-speed, and waist power.[12]

Very little of Leopard focuses of chi; primarily, Leopard focuses to train the skin, bones, muscles and tendons. The Leopard uses a certain hand technique for its signature strike; this is called the bao chui. It translates as “leopard fist.” A bao chui is performed by folding the fingers back at the first joint rather than at the knuckle, and laying the thumb alongside. This results in a stable, flat, streamlined knuckle attack, designed to penetrate and cause severe trauma. However, if attempted without training, a bao chui could severely damage the knuckles of the deliverer. Leopard students remedy this via repeated punches against hard sandbags and pushups on their knuckles. To increase hand strength, Leopard students also practice compressing a firm ball with both hands, full strength, at least one hundred times a day.[13]

One word: READING. I’ve been actively rediscovering my appetite for verbiage, and it’s been grand. I just finished Dumas’ The Three Musketeers, and upon learning that it is the first of a trilogy featuring the same characters, I promptly ordered the next two books. So those are on my reading list, along with Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, a biography of George Washington, The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and The Count of Monte Cristo. Should be fun. I’ve realized that reading consumes a lot of time, and therefore is to be a lifelong pursuit. Works fine for me.

Also, reading all these swashbuckler books has irrevocably decided me in favor of learning to fence. I want to learn the differences between the Spanish and Italian and French schools, and to get into some of the really hardcore European martial arts. Didn’t know that the knights had martial arts, did ya?! Well they did!! If you guys want, I can do a whole spiel about those. I would enjoy that. I’ve got plenty of material on Oriental martial arts already, and could probably do a series on martial arts. In fact, I shall! Consider that my new project. I shall begin as soon as I return from…

EUROPE. I’m going on a study abroad trip to England and France, centering around the great Winston Churchill and WWII; so we get to visit London and Oxford, see Blenheim Palace AND Chartwell, and then spend most of our time in Normandy before ending our trip in lovely Paris. I’m rather excited.

Anyway! That’s all for now, hope you all appreciate this little newsflash. Be safe, grace and peace to you all.

-Dr. Fiction

—————————————-

Blood for Blood

It had taken about three weeks for him to get through it.

Mack had come back to the ranch complaining of headaches and shivers, and by the end of the day he was bed-ridden and feverish, racked with wild delirium. He ranted and screamed about a woman named ‘Kate,’ babbling incoherently about things that made no sense to the ranchers. They didn’t know anything about drugs like cocaine, or the effects that they could have over a lifetime of usage, or what would happen after their use was suddenly cut off.

So the put him in an empty stall in the stable, away from the house. They could still hear the screams.

Then after three weeks, the gunslinger came out of the stable. He wobbled and staggered a good bit, but his eyes and his mind were clear. That began his recovery. The ranchers tended to him, ensuring his safe recuperation.

It was months later that Mack and Hawke came riding back to the ranch. He was one of them now; he knew how to herd, ride, survive, scout, track, work a bullwhip, use a knife, and shoot the ranchers’ long rifles. They’d taken him in, no questions asked. They were strong people, good people. Mack had helped them in the bar, and now they helped him get back on his feet. He still helped them by working on the ranch, really. Life had been quiet; no real repercussions from Mack’s escapade in the town, no echoes of Opeck mischief, no issues with the family, or the herds, or the ranch. Life was good.

“‘sat you?”

It was Reuben’s young, cheerful voice that hailed the two riders. He sat on the porch, building a cigarette in the late afternoon heat. The setting sun threw an orange glare into his face, painting everything under its gaze in molten copper light.

“Well what y’think, Roob?”

“I think you two look like a pair of mangy fleabit tumbler weeds.”

“Y’always talk so sweet.”

“You look worse’n he does, cricket.”

The moniker was accurate. Mack had come out of his withdrawals feeling twitchy, and he’d become prone to little jerking motions and spasms. So they’d taken to calling him ‘cricket.’ The gunslinger grinned and swung down from his horse, cheerfully accepting the remark without rebuttal. Within an hour, the three men were seated with the rest of the family inside at the dinner table. It was a special dinner; since it was the end of the week, they some sweet jellies and biscuits in addition to their usual fare of coarse bread and meaty stew. The night came on, warm and soft, the kind that’s easy to sleep in. Everything was quiet; only a soothing buzz of bug-speak providing accompaniment as the last rays of sunlight surrendered and withdrew their glory, ceding the sky to velvet night. The whole house slept, and calm embraced the ranch.

What woke Cain wasn’t any particular noise or sensation – rather, the absence of it was what disturbed his rest. The usual racket and clamor of insects in the scrub-brush surrounding the ranch was silenced. The only reason why that would be was that they had left altogether, and that only happened when something bigger than they entered their vicinity and frightened them.

The long rifle and cartridge belt next to his bed were instantly donned, and he slipped into his boots. His wife muttered in her sleep, unconsciously unsettled by her husband’s movements. Cain stepped into the hall, where he met Mack. The gunslinger was already belting on his profusion of pistols.

“Somethin’s up,” was all he had to say.

Cain simply nodded. Unsurprisingly, the next few seconds during the walk to the front room saw the arrival of Hawke, Reuben, Nal, Ben, Zach, and Matthew. Each man; the seven brothers and the gunslinger; carried their long rifles and cartridge belts. They stepped towards the windows. They all knew the signs of warning; even Mack, comparatively unused to prairie life, had been informed and alarmed by the change his environment. It wasn’t the first time he’d been warned by an absence of sound rather than its presence.

Six men stepped to the windows while Mack and Cain stepped to the door and edged it open. Instantly, from the surrounding brush, there was a volley of gunfire and war-whoops. The ranchers threw themselves to the floor as the walls and windows exploded in splinters and glass shards. Everything was immediate chaos – the families awoke as Cain began to thunder commands for retaliation; the ranchers returned fire at the attackers. For the next hour, everything was a blur – at some point a fire broke out in the house and in the stable, sending Nal, Zach and Matthew to recover the horses while the others tried to get the families outside. As soon as they did, they were under fire from their unknown attackers. Mack was in his element, standing in the wide-open and blazing gunfire from either hand. A shadowy figure rushed him; he drew a knife, stabbed the man a few times, then let the body drop at his feet. It lay there for the rest of the night. It was a long, hard night.

When morning broke, everything was burned. The horses had scattered to the prairie, and Nal had gone off with Reuben to try and track them down. Ben, Zach and Matthew were dead. Grandma Herst was dead – scalped. The women had either been scalped or beaten to death. Cain sat in the wreckage of his part of the house, cradling Mose’s lifeless body. The boy had run out to defend his family, and he’d been shot through the throat. Hawke and Mack stood nearby, wordless. What was there to say? They’d all lost everything. Nal and Reuben managed to bring back some of the horses, but there was no way to feel happy about this small grace. The ranchers’ livelihood was gone. Everything they’d worked to build was destroyed. They were alone.

It was mid-afternoon when Mack finally roused himself. The well was still there, and he walked over, drew a pail and splashed himself until he was reasonably clean. Then he put on his shirt and belted his guns on. The gunslinger walked to certain place on the side of the house and went down into the cellar. From there, he dragged a big chest back into the sunlight. The ranchers watched dully as he opened it and began to unload box after box of cartridges for his pistols and the ranchers’ rifles, loading his weapons with meticulous precision. Then he saddled a horse.

“What are you doing?” Hawke finally droned. He sat next to the body of his toddler daughter. He’d not moved since morning.

“I’m going out for a ride. Figure I’m gonna kill as many Opeck as I can.”

“Opeck?”

“These was Opeck, Hawke. Look at the body.”

Sure enough, the body of the man Mack had knifed still lay in the yard. It was the leathery, copper-colored skin of an Opeck, marked with blood and smeared war-paint… but carrying a new lever-action rifle.

“Somebody gave ‘em the guns, and I’ll get to them, but for now, I’m gonna go hunt some redskins.”

Mired in his sorrow, all Hawke could think to say was: “Why?”

“That’s how I work, Hawke. Hit me, I hit you. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, blood for blood. Now I’m gonna go draw some blood, and I don’t rightly know why y’all ain’t saddling’ up with me right now.”

“…me neither.”

For the first time since that night, Cain spoke and stood up. There was a terrible set to his face and a light in his eye.

“Blood for blood.”

The other brothers roused themselves at their brother’s words. Within an hour, all five men were armed, loaded, saddled, and riding west.

That night they caught up with their attackers. They left the dirt stained with blood and the corpses to rot in the sun, and kept riding. They kept riding.

See, when I was younger, I used to play a lot of video games. I still would, probably, if my mother hadn’t literally hidden my console – I tend to go overboard and play excessively, plus I get grumpy and irascible and antisocial. It’s a good thing that I don’t play much anymore. But back in the days when I did play, I was pretty good – there was nobody in my circle of friends who could beat me; at least, at my kind of games. With other games, I wasn’t so proficient.

Anyway, my sister liked to play video games too, and she liked to play video games with me. This wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except that she wasn’t nearly as skilled as I was, and often times I wanted to play alone. (Like I said, I quickly became grumpy and antisocial.) When we did play together, I would often end up carrying her and acting as a buffer for her; and I could handle it. In fact, I welcomed the chance to show off how much more skilled I was than she. She, on the other hand, did not always appreciate this, and frequently asked (read: complained, but she was justified in doing so) me to back off and let her handle things on her own. This I would do, and before long she would be freaking out in the face of some challenge she couldn’t beat and asking me to step in and save her – which, again, I did willingly, because I liked showing off. I would handle the big stuff and protect her from whatever she couldn’t handle, let her go it alone at times – but I was always around if she needed me.

I think God is the same way with us, to some degree. He’ll help us, protect us, and sometimes step in to save us (occasionally in a manner of which we do not approve), and sometimes He steps back and lets us fight our own small battles, while He protects us from the rest and watches over us. Just as those intervals of solo-play helped my sister grow over time from a gamer who needed constant supervision to a gamer who could handle herself, God sometimes steps back and lets us handle things on our own so that we can grow. He lets us fly solo – but not so that we learn to be independent and self-sufficient, no longer needing Him. Unlike my sister’s growth into an independent gamer, God lets us fly solo so that we learn the value of flying with a wingman; He steps back so that we miss Him and run to Him. We realize His absence and feel it keenly, and so we chase after Him because His distance is so unbearable. Jesus’ nearness is like sunshine and fresh water to the Christian – remove Him, and we cry out in darkness and dryness, seeking desperately for His perfect refreshment.

Much like my sister staring down a boss opponent and shrieking “Evan Evan Evan Evan help help help help!!!”

-Dr. Fiction

_______________________

“To my mind, the clearest indicator of where our lives should be focused is the simple fact that we cannot turn our eyes upon ourselves, but must look away from ourselves in order to see ourselves.”

Think about it. It’s a small thing, really, but you cannot physically look at your own face. You can see some extensions of yourself; arms, legs, stomach, etc.; but we all agree that those are not the first things we notice when we look at somebody. We look first to the face – and we cannot look at our own faces without looking away from ourselves. We must look outwards in order to look inwards. Now, am I saying that we get our definition and our evaluation from the people around us? No – but we still must look away from ourselves. It’s simple to me; we constantly look outwards, why should we not turn our efforts outwards? Our lives ought to be focused away from ourselves, towards God and towards other people.

“There is no justice for me. The only One who knows how truly unlovely I am is the One who loves me most truly and fiercely.”

As a Christian, I don’t get what I deserve. So many people demand “what they deserve,” but what they deserve and what they want are two very different things. All of us, as sinners, deserve Hell, plain and simple, and what’s more, (CALVINISM ALERT) unless we are regenerated and made alive by the Holy Spirit, we want Hell too. We want nothing to do with God, so sometimes He says “You want nothing to do with me? Have it your way.” The Christian, however, does not get what they want or what they deserve. We are unjustly shown mercy and grace; rather than continuing to paddle our canoe down the river to Hell, we get capsized and dragged ashore, kicking and screaming the whole way. That’s not justice. Thank God, that’s not justice.

“I think we need air, water, food and shelter to survive, and all those plus love and hope to live.”

I make distinctions between words that ordinarily mean essentially the same thing, because different words have different connotations for me. For example, I often am accused of not being ‘nice’ – an accusation I readily accept, because niceness is stupid. That is another rant for another day, but suffice it to say that I refuse to do what would place me under the label of ‘nice,’ because for me, ‘nice’ carries a sticky-sweet, overpoweringly cloying connotation of simpering, hand-wringing passivity. I would much rather be called ‘kind’ or ‘loving,’ and sometimes the kindest, most loving thing one can do is to get up in somebody’s face and call out unacceptable conduct, or to put a stop to somebody who is threatening those you love. Neither of those thing are very nice. All this to say, I distinguish between survival and living. Survival is simply continued existence, a prolonged demonstration of those physical functions which keep your body functioning. You can be in a coma and still be surviving. Living, on the other hand, means to get up off your tail, go out into the world, and make your mark on history; so that when you die, people will have plenty of stories to tell about the legacy you left behind. Therefore; if you have air for breathing, water for hydration, food for sustenance, and shelter for refuge, then you can continue your survival, your existence. Anybody who’s seen Man vs. Wild can tell you that. However, if you don’t have hope and you’re not loved… then what’s the point? You have no reason to live or to survive. You see what I mean? (By the way, I believe hope and love are so intertwined that I’m not even sure where to begin on them.)

“The one thing that can be said about Time is that it keeps moving forward.”

This is something that keeps me going a lot of the time. When I get tired or depressed or whatever, I remember that all I have to do is keep going, and a break will come. That’s the beautiful thing about Time; you can’t slow it down, speed it up, stop it or jump around through it (yet). All you can do is be in it. That is the extent of our relationship with Time – we are in it. We have no choice, we must keep going forward, and that gives me hope. It helps to relax me when I remember “Hey, I can’t change the past, I don’t know and I can’t control the future – but I can do my best in the present.” Just take life as it comes, and don’t sweat what you can’t affect. If something has already happened, I can do nothing to change it, and if there’s nothing I can do to alter its impact on the present or future, then I don’t worry about it. You just live with it, and keep going. The future is even less under our control, so why stress about it? Just take life as it comes, and do the best you can in the moment. By the way, this does not mean that you don’t plan ahead and set goals for yourself; but don’t freak out about everything that could happen. I even have a verse – Philippians 4:6-7. “⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” God’s got your back, why worry?

Goodnight!

-Fictionist