A New Challenge (11)
The Fool’s Number, Unexpected Encounters, Meaning, and new Tai Chi videos
Reading time: 8 minutes; 4 videos.
Illustration: wallpaperaccess.com
The eleventh part of this series of blog posts is somewhat special because of my affinity with jesters, fools and jokers and their connection with the number 11. This is partly because of their ability to make people laugh and partly because they can see the world as it really is; two qualities that I value highly. Jesters are usually misfits because by far most of us do not see the world as it is, but can only see it through our own frame of reference. This creates imbalance and stress because we come to believe in the manufacturability of the world as we think it ought to be, but which is often at odds with the reality of everyday life. However, the crazy number (or fool’s number) 11 refers to the world as it really is in its own unique way.[1]
In Christianity, 10 is the perfect number (remember the Ten Commandments) and 12 is the sacred number (remember the Twelve Apostles). 11 is called unlucky because it ‘transgresses’ 10 as the perfect number (how dare it),[2] but 11 is also called lucky because it represents twice the number 1 which symbolizes unity. Since in our logical worldview something cannot be both happiness and misfortune at the same time, 11 is also called the crazy number.
The underlying, and at first sight invisible, wisdom, however, is that any contradistinction can only exist through the presence of both components. From the point of view of common sense, happiness is not the same as sadness. However, the word ‘happiness’ does not mean anything at all without having experienced something related to the word ‘sadness’, and that knowledge lays bare one insurmountable fact of life; namely, that for most of us, happiness and sadness follow each other as ceaselessly as day and night.
It’s obvious that if we wish to be aware of our happiness, we can only accomplish that by simultaneously becoming aware of our sadness (or anger, anxiety, etc.). Therefore, when we say that we want to be happy, at the same time we say that we want to be sad. That makes sense, right?
Illustration: wallpaperaccess.com
In this way we can approach any contradistinction. The word light is meaningless if we have never experienced darkness, or if darkness is the only thing we know, like people who are born blind, for instance.[3] However, most of us know from experience that the light of day always turns into the darkness of night. Together they continuously change into one another, and from that point of view light and darkness form a whole, like the black and white fishes in the yinyang symbol. On their own, they are meaningless words that acquire meaning only through the presence of their opposite. And here we immediately see that the two components of any contradistinction arise simultaneously at the moment when we begin to name and define things and events.
Finally, the number 11 can be seen as a connecting factor between the perfect number 10 and sacred number 12. The double ‘1’ indicates that both components of a contradistinction weigh equally and are both necessary for balance. Therefore it can be said that both perfection and holiness consist of white and black, positive and negative, good and evil. Once that is understood, there is no more anxiety.
Here endeth my ode to the fool’s number 11.
On last May 16th I celebrated my 50th lap around the sun. In this blog post I give away two digital presents for the occasion, and on the day itself I took the afternoon off to take a hike to the top of the Shengjing Shan, the sacred mountain where the Kung Fu Academy is also located. The radiant sun gave this spring day a golden glow and the magic of the mountain, where the text of the entire Tao Te Ching is engraved in a rock on the top, was palpable: the hairs all over my body stood up and the air seemed filled with electricity; a feeling which was reinforced by the hum of armies of bees (very big bees!) that almost made the air vibrate. Furthermore, for inspiration purposes, I recorded a short video message which is shared below.
In terms of training, I can report that training full time for five days a week as a brand new fifty-plussee can be demanding on both body and mind and occasionally a small break is needed. Two weeks ago I planned to go to a hot spring with a friend; a phenomenon that is common in these regions. The plan was to first go to the town of Wendeng on Friday morning and take a taxi from there to the spring.
As far as I can tell, Wendeng is a city like many can be found in China: gray/yellow residential towers; streets and avenues full of screaming and shiny facades where all kinds of merchandise is advertised; and a lot of asphalt and concrete. In addition to Wendeng, I also visited Weihai, Yantai and Qingdao, and only the latter had a more distinctive character. In that respect, China seems similar to the United States, where it is known that in terms of urban design and architecture, almost all cities look the same (with a few exceptions such as New York, San Francisco, Chicago, or New Orleans). But where this may be the case in macro terms, the true treasures are, as so often, found at the micro level; because only there do the authentic parks, courtyards, shops, street art, small theatres and pubs reveal themselves to the sincere seeker.
In Wendeng that occurred in two places. First we came across some impressive communist street art. The pictures speak for themselves and it felt like we were entering another era, and that at any moment a military parade would emerge around a corner.
Then we walked up against a bright red facade on what at first was reminiscent of the facade of a Chinese restaurant in the west. The door was open and while peering in, we saw a courtyard with a hall on the other side in which a large statue of a Chinese sage could be seen. The resemblance to the statues of the Taoist temple next to the Kung Fu Academy was striking, which made us think we had found a city Temple. Such a treasure is too beautiful to pass by, so we stepped inside.
Upon entering the courtyard we saw that doors were also open on our left and right. The first door on the right showed a closet full of books and thinking it was the library, I walked in. There we met a bald Chinese gentleman in his 60s who was surprised to see us, yet he immediately offered tea and started talking to us as if we had known each other for years. That culminated in his invitation to go to lunch with him.
To cut a long story short, he was a remarkably interesting character named Cong Songpo (从松坡) who quit his job some 30 years ago to start walking around the country looking for family ties. He then wrote a book on the Zhang (张) family line[4] and reconnected 30 family clans in and around China. We learned all this from Mr. Cong Xuri (丛煦日), family of the bald gentleman who had arrived not long after us.
We also learned that the temple was not a temple, but the ancestral home of their family – which is now mainly used as a museum. In the end it turned out that we had stumbled into a family reunion / lunch, and these lovely people not only offered to go to lunch with them, but also to take us to the hot spring afterwards.
Once we arrived at what looked like a small business park, we were directed to a kind of warehouse. Inside, however, a beautiful and chic restaurant emerged. We were given a private room with a large round table on which there is a large round disk to display all the food. That disc rotates so that everyone can taste all the dishes. In addition, the round shape makes it possible to converse with everyone at the table. The food was exquisite and the drink abundant, which started with Bijou (a kind of old gin), then a really beautiful red Bordeaux, to then wash everything down with beer.
But the most special part of the lunch was when Songpo and his sister sang a Chinese imperial aria together. In addition, Songpo turned out to be a great storyteller, and although we did not understand most of his words, his body language almost completely conveyed the story.
This lunch became a wonderful gathering full of merriment, laughter, singing, drums, sharing stories and forming new border-crossing bonds. What a great surprise, honour and pleasure this chance meeting became. And as promised, one of the gentlemen who had remained sober drove us to the hot spring.
Friday last week a new student arrived at the Kung Fu Academy; an Australian young lady of 29. She trained on Friday and went to the beach with Shifu Wang and the two other students on Saturday. However, on Sunday she felt a little bloated, and on Monday it became clear that she was retaining too much fluids. Monday evening it turned out that she had gained more than 9 kilos in three days! Her legs and stomach in particular were clearly swollen and on Tuesday morning there was pressure on the chest. At the time of this writing, a week after her arrival at the school, she is now in a hospital in Yantai for three days. In the meantime, numerous tests have already been done on various vital organ functions and so far all tests have been negative, except that there appears to be fluid in her lungs. Shifu Qu, owner of the Academy, takes full responsibility for her well-being and has been with her continuously in the hospital to assist whenever needed (he sleeps in a chair).[5] As far as possible, we as fellow students keep a contract with her, even if only for mental support. To be continued…
Shifu Wang, the shifu who is here 24/7 and cooks for us, is also a martial arts master and takes over the lessons. However, my knowledge of Mandarin is significantly better than his knowledge of English, so communication between him and me is unfortunately hardly possible in language. However: the universe provides, as the saying goes, because fellow student Caro can speak Chinese well. That makes the lessons a lot more fun, because Shifu Wang also has great knowledge of edible vegetation and how to prepare it and I think it's super fun to pick a grain from that too (yes, that pun is definitely intended).
In addition, these two masters give an apt insight into seeing meaning in practice. Since my arrival last September there was a period of three weeks in which we were with six students, but the rest of the time I was here with one or at most two other students. Yet Shifu Wang has been here since the beginning of October (I repeat: 7 days a week!) and Shifu Qu attends the school every Monday through Friday. Every morning they start their training between 04:30 and 05:00. They are present and ready for every lesson and every meal is tasty and well taken care of. They seem content with their existence in which Kung Fu / Martial Arts provide a great deal of meaning for them: both their own practice and teaching their craft to students.[6]
I was already able to experience a deeply satisfying sense of meaning during, among other things, making music, the physiotherapy training, working as a masseur, and now by learning tai chi and writing. The great common denominator is that meaning is always accompanied by an activity that is meaningful to the one who performs it. In addition, such an activity becomes great fun as soon as it also starts to bring results, as this website is the result of my writings and the progress in Tai Chi of my practice.
Therefore the farewell message of this eleventh blog post is: find out what you would like to do, and find a way to try it out! Especially in adulthood, many of us feel trapped in a certain situation or environment, but there is always a choice – despite the fact that it may not feel like it. That is because we have convinced ourselves that absolutely everything will wrong that can go wrong, if we actually make that choice (that is, when we choose for ourselves). As a result, we continue to act out of fear, which in this case is a bad advisor.
So stay open to discover what you don't know yet about yourself. Or look at yourself in the mirror, laugh, and repeat the words of the Ghost of Christmas Present in The Muppet Christmas Carol: “Hohoho! Come in, and know me better man!”
Jolly greetings,
Erik Stout
[1] It is a delightful coincidence that the words “crazy number” and “fool’s number” consist of 11 letters.
[2] Similarly, 13 is an unlucky number because it ‘transgresses’ 12 as the sacred number.
[3] Thus, the words light and dark may be meaningless to someone born blind.
[4] As Smith is one of the most common surnames in the English speaking world, so is Zhang in China.
[5] In the meantime, she has already contacted her family and travel insurance, so there is currently an English-speaking doctor on the way to her for further consultation and possibly further tests, diagnosis & treatment, transfer to Beijing or the possibility of repatriation.
[6] On weekends, Shifu Qu teaches groups of children in his hometown.