YMAA Chapter 2: A day in the life...

A Typical Weekday at the YMAA Retreat Center:

Up at 5:45 AM for a quick sip of green tea, always at the ready at a moment’s notice, thanks to a handy hot water dispenser, good self-straining teapots, and lots of teas to choose from…

…and maybe a handful of nuts or a bit of apple or pear (on the advice of Master Yang; “to keep the stomach busy and quiet during meditation") from the “snack bar” that’s open 24/7…

Mostly nuts, fruits, bread, peanut & almond butters, you know, typical snack stuff. (Yes, those are tiny dried fishes.)

…then it’s off to the octagonal gazebo, built especially for this purpose, for an hour of group qigong meditation beginning precisely at 6:00 AM. (These days it’s pitch dark when we begin, and only slightly less so an hour later, when we finish up.)

                                                                      This is what the floor of the meditation gazebo looks
                                                                      like, when it's not covered in with mats, cushions,
                                                                      and blankets. In the dark.

After meditation it’s back to the main house, where the indoor training studio is located, for 45 minutes of moving qigong; most often White Crane, but other styles too, as appropriate for special conditions. 

The main studio... ...and library/music corner.

Breakfast follows; the resident students (The Boys) usually head up to their dorm for this, but occasionally Master Yang –who cooks for all the guests- will invite them to stay, and cooks up a big breakfast of eggs, sausage, sautéed tomatoes and/or potatoes, and of course, rice. Almost always rice, with every meal, a habit I might just take away from here. After breakfast dishes are done, there’s a quiet period until 9:00 AM, when two hours of Taijiquan practice begins, which includes specialized qigong exercised designed especially for taijiquan, form correction, push-hands work, and taiji ball practice.

Zach doing an unauthorized "taiji cat" exercise.

At 11:00, I take the stage; I’ve been offering hour-long music lessons six days a week since I arrived. These have been pretty guitar centric -how that came to be is a story in itself, and I’ll write more about that in upcoming chapters- but I see to it that beginner’s level theory & piano are part of every lesson too.

After this, lunch at noon; again, Master Yang cooks for and dines with the guests while The Boys head up the hill to their residence; each of them is expected in rotation as “chef for the day”. (Though again, if guests are few and food is plentiful, we all dine together, something I especially enjoy.) The kitchen is again restored to “clean and ready” mode –everyone pitches in here- and then it’s quiet time again, for individual meditation, reading, tending to small domestic issues, whatever. At 2:30, the long afternoon conditioning and training begins. For the boys, this means donning a special weight training vest (designed to carry up to 80 one pound metal cylinders) for a hike down Yang Mountain (no one actually calls it that, I just made it up) to Salmon Creek, only to turn around a run –yes, run, back up. And by “up”, I mean 800 vertical feet over a little more than 1/2 mile, an average grade of …. whatever- I’m to lazy to make the calculation. But it’s pretty damned steep, if you ask me.

And silly me: I forgot; they don’t actually immediately turn right around and start that run from hell when the reach the creek. No, first, they each gather up 300 egg-ish sized rocks, worn smooth by the creek, and whip them at top speed at small log-targets about 15 meters away.


Pitching practice, essentially, except they throw half of their rocks (150) rocks with one hand, and half with the other. The goal is 200 with each hand, so they’re not quite there yet. But, since they’ve each committed to a ten year training program, they have some time to work on it. Now, as grueling as gathering and chucking 300 rocks every day may seem, Master Yang has actually softened up some to accommodate the general squishiness of 21st century America’s notion of “fitness”; they get to take their vests off for this throwing practice. But it’s back on for the run up the mountain. (Yes, I said run.)*

As a guest, I have the choice to participate in as much or as little of this training as I please. So I generally skip this bit, though I did prove –one more than one occasion- that I’m still a force to be reckoned with when it comes to whipping small hard objects on target (a necessary self-defense skill one develops naturally growing up and going to public school in a snowy northern climate, the natural habitat of predacious flying snowballs.) Instead, I usually join Master Yang, along with any other guests wishing to tag along, in a walk along the same route, thankfully unburdened by additional weight, and occasionally stopping to refresh ourselves with a handful of fresh huckleberries, which grow in great abundance on these second growth slopes of the coastal range.                      

And in interest of full disclosure, I will admit that I in fact skip most of the conditioning drills that comprise these afternoon session, which include (after recovering from the weighted mountain run): jumping up onto brick walls, over railings, and over a short stick held in one’s own hands, like a short, stiff jump rope; upper body conditioning on bars, rings & ropes; various tortures with long staffs & cinder blocks, often while standing on top of two standard red building bricks stacked end on end.

Patrick "3 Brick" Manrioquez. (That's three bricks end-to-end he's qigoning on. Radical.

Most of this occurs in this covered outdoor training pavilion located near the dorm, and continues until 6:00 PM, when everyone gathers at the main house again for a half hour of reaction time training –basically blocking punches- and finally, a 30 minute question and answer/lecture session conducted by Master Yang. These are fascinating, featuring Master Yang holding forth on topics that range from very precise technical questions about the effect of weather on meditation breathing, or a particular hand position for a wrist lock, to first-hand stories about the effects of the Japanese occupation of Taiwan, and stern lectures about keeping order in the communal dorm.

At 7:00 PM the training day officially ends, and dinner is prepared. Master Yang cooks, and again, sometimes invites the boys to stay for dinner with the guests, using that occasion for lessons in the proper preparation of traditional Chinese dishes. Otherwise the students fend for themselves –in their fully stocked and equipped communal dormitory kitchen.

The food Master Yang prepares is fabulous; home cooked Chinese and other international dishes, at least three per meal, made with fresh vegetables from the center’s organic garden & greenhouse.

On his cardiologist’s recommendation, Master Yang takes one modest glass of red wine with dinner. By the time dishes are done and order restored to the kitchen area, it’s 8-8:30, and everyone pretty much heads off to their rooms, often right into bed.

Saturday's are pretty much the same as any other weekday, until the afternoon session; then, instead of conditioning, it's chores, which range from chopping firewood to cleaning the residences- whatever needs doing.  Sunday is the only real day of rest in the week, and even then trips into town for provisions are common, though communal dinners at a local Chinese buffet (always Dr. Yang's treat, at restaurants he has personally vetted and approved) are a nice fringe benefit.

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

YMAA Chapter 1: "We're not in Kansas anymore..."

 

I know, I know; I've been here more than two weeks now without posting anything.  I apologize for that long gap, but it's taken me this long to catch the rhythm of life here, sort out my thoughts, and find the words.

So what exactly is Yang’s Martial Arts Association Retreat Center? A simple question, but don’t expect a simple answer. It’s a lot of things; you can check out their website for yourself by clicking the link embedded above. On one fundamental level, it is the residence of  Dr. Yang, Jwing Ming, and that’s probably the most appropriate place to start any description of the center. Dr. Yang (or “Master Yang”, or most commonly at the center, “Shifu”) is the founder of Yang’s Martial Arts Association (YMAA), an internationally respected Chinese Martial Arts enterprise, built over an exhaustive 40 year career of teaching, research, writing and travel. This retreat center is in many ways the culmination of Master Yang’s lifelong devotion to traditional Chinese healing and martial arts. Part boarding school, part secular monastery, part Bed & Breakfast, the YMAA Retreat Center is the new locus of Dr. Yang’s life’s work, to (as stated on the center’s website); “…restore and preserve traditional Chinese martial arts and culture to their original level of high quality and standards.” It’s hard to imagine anyone better suited to the task than Shifu Yang, Jwing  Ming.

Master Yang with the center's taijicat, Mr. Meowgi.

Located in Humboldt County, California, on a 2000 ft. ridge in the middle of the Northern California coastal mountain range, the center’s location and position has excellent Feng Shui, as Master Yang eagerly explains to anyone who asks; the waterways bounding the center on the north, east and west (Salmon and Blue Slide Creeks) and the surrounding higher peaks (Kerri Peak, Bear Butte and Gilham Butte) result in ideal conditions for a strong qi energy flow around and through the center grounds. I’ll take his word on the qi flow; my Feng Shui skills are very badly underdeveloped, but the climate and air flow up here is certainly spectacular; the valley and ridge that comprise the center’s southern vista is a ever changing palette of fog, cloud, sky and sun.

 

Of course, Humboldt County is also known for being the spiritual, if not actual center of marijuana cultivation in California. Word on the street is that pretty much everyone owning property in these mountains –except Master Yang- grows a little pot. Or a lot. And in fact it’s not at all unusual to come across the detritus of growing operations while hiking the trails through these hills.

I’m not very concerned about locally grown weed; in fact I appreciate anything that weakens the power and reach of the murderous gangs of narco-traffickers that plague our times. But I wish these friendly neighborhood herbologists out here would clean up after themselves a little. And concerns about potential encounters with heavily armed, paranoid stoners deep in remote wooded areas takes some of the fun out of an otherwise perfectly nice hike. Have a little respect for the world around you, dudes. And chill; I’m not a cop or a thief, I’m just out for a walk.

Another irony of locating this little island of traditional Chinese culture in Humboldt county derives from local history: in 1885 the entire Chinese population of Eureka, then and still the regions commercial urban center, was forcibly expelled, given less than 24 hours to ship out, or face execution by hanging. Leaving their homes and most of their possessions behind, the entire Chinese community –more than 300 mostly men and a handful of women- boarded two steamships bound for San Francisco, thereby averting another massacre. I say “another” because only 25 years before, the good settlers of Humboldt County (mostly ranchers and gold-diggers) slaughtered 100 or more peaceful Wiyot men, women and children on Duluwat island, in Humboldt bay just west of Eureka. For the crime of just being Wiyot, evidently.

But these ghosts of the past don’t trouble the firmly “in the moment” YMAA center. The focus here is clear; 5 exceptional young men* have taken the exceptional step of committing themselves to a 10 year residential program of immersion into the traditional martial and healing arts of China. For each of them, this commitment was sealed with a ceremony in which, upon a third ritual request from the applicant, a master teacher accepts the student as a “disciple”, thereby accepting the responsibilities of Shifu –teacher/father- for that disciple. The student in turn accepts the responsibilities that come with being a disciple. It’s a long term teaching/learning pact between an experienced master teacher and a young apprentice; not the sort of thing one routinely encounters in the American educational system. The apprenticeship of these young men (affectionately referred to as “The Boys” by Master Yang and guests alike) lies at the heart of the center’s activities; I’ll post more on the details of what that apprenticeship is like later.

And that’s the monastic/boarding school end of the spectrum. But the center welcomes guests too, so another interesting feature of life here is the array of fascinating visitors that come to stay awhile in the spacious, spotless, well lighted guest rooms of the main house, and train –or not, as they wish- with Master Yang and The Boys.



Holistic Doctors from Germany looking for deeper insight into the relationship of qi to health & fitness, martial arts practitioners and teachers from London and Johannesburg, people suffering from particular ailments hoping to learn specific qigong exercises to target their malady, even Theatre and Dance professors on sabbatical hoping to re-energize their own taijiquan practice with instructions and corrections from source, Master Yang himself. It’s not like a typical resort/spa hotel. More like an old world inn, where a proprietor was something more of a host in his own home. And Master Yang is a most gracious and attentive host. I’ve already mentioned his cooking, and he attends to his guests comfort and particular learning goals with the same… well, mastery.

Makin' Mochi; Mochi is a chewy sweet-rice flour dumpling-ish sort of confection, filled with sweet red bean paste and garnished with ground peanuts. It's a favorite treat around here.

Americans, IMHO, are ambivalent about this notion of “The Master”. On the one hand, it can denote respect for the skills and experience of a “master” artist, craftsman, teacher, professional, etc. On the other, the “massa'” of America's shameful legacy of slave dealing , and the cruel factory boss are also a part of our history with masters. Indeed, America was born from the ashes of the fight to free ourselves from our British “masters”. And let’s be honest; it’s not impossible for both kinds of master to live in one man; history’s pretty clear about that. So, being a 21st century American, I approach this whole master-disciple deal with curiosity, and a mindfulness that’s shaded a bit to the cautious side. And while I stipulate that I’ve not been here long enough to know the full story, I have had many good, honest conversations with Master Yang, with guests, and The Boys, together and individually. And I have to say that to my eyes, Master Yang has fairly and squarely earned all the uncommonly deep respect he is given, from so many people, many of  whom are truly exceptional themselves. His mastery of Shaolin style White Crane Kung Fu, traditional Yang style Taijiquan swordplay, healing qigong massage and many many more martial and healing techniques is unquestioned; his vitae is public, long and remarkable in this regard. But his skill as a fighter, healer and teacher are only part of what make him worthy of the titles Shifu and Master. They are merely the paths he chose to follow in search of true mastery; mastery of the self, down to the spiritual core. Dr. Yang approaches his life, his students, his scholarship, his business and his guests, all with the same respect, grace, mindful energy and skill that he’s poured into his lifetime of learning and teaching traditional Chinese martial and healing arts. If that’s not mastery, worthy of the title, then I don’t know what is.

Coming up; a day in the life...  Stay tuned.

* The Current Student page of the center website is not precisely up to date here; student Tom Dudkiewicz is at home recuperating from injuries resulting from an automobile collision, and another student, Ricardo Tonet, remains in his native Portugal, striving to get US clearance to continue his studies with Master Yang.  And another visiting, first year student,  Jachym Jerie (from Switzerland) is also currently in residence.

California Dreamin'

No, this has nothing to do with McKenzie Phillips.  It refers to these images I caught on my drive south from Grant's Pass OR, along the Pacific coast highway, to the mountaintop YMAA retreat center a bit south of Eureka CA.  Coastal Redwood forests, nourished by the almost daily fog that rolls in off of the ocean.  I started at 5:30 AM, and so was in just the right time and place to capture a bit of this dramatic morning light.

 

Though it looks as if I'm high above a cloud bank, the Pacific is actually just beneath this fog bank; hearing clouds emit the sound of crashing surf was pretty mind blowing.

The roots of these Coastal Redwoods only go about 8 feet down into the ground.  So what holds them up?  Those roots may spread out 3 or more acres, weaving into a tightly knit web of roots with all of the other trees in the area.  In other words; working together they are able to support each other and flourish in an environment where no one of them could stand alone.  Sound familiar?  (Credit where credit it due; Hunter S. Otter came up with this triptych idea, but he was very disappointed in my poor little iPhone camera's inability to adjust for light changes as the viewpoint angle rises.)

Schooner's Shooters

Scouted all of the fishing pull-offs along the river road the day before. Read the tide charts, corrected for the upriver delay, got an early start and hit the water just before the turning of the estuarial  tide, a marshy, low-tide spot along a bend that created a nice pool, but still in range of the main current.  Large fish we're breaching and rolling all around me, up river and down. I showed them spoons, spinners, dry flies, wet flies, cured salmon roe bait.  Nothin'.  Not a nibble on the bait, nor bump at a spoon. I had three primary consolations.  The first was the fact than no one else on the river was catching anything.  I know this because the same three boats trolled past me repeatedly and gave me reports; nothin'.  Nobody.  My second consolation was that it was a beautiful day, and once I acclimated to the muck and strong cowfish smell (this is dairy country after all) it was a pretty pleasant way to spend a few quiet hours.  And finally, though the fall run salmon disappointed me, I DID finally manage to score...

...a Netarts Bay Oyster Shooter!* at The Schooner restaurant/lounge in Netarts. (The town shares that name with the bay).  I don't believe I've mentioned these on this blog before, so allow me to introduce you.  Netarts Oysters come from Netarts Bay, the cleanest bay of any on the American coast, so I'm told.  These oysters are the size of hen's eggs, chewy and buttery all at once.  I like to celebrate my arrivals and departures from Oceanside with one of these and a MacTarnahan's.  But there's no guarantee; they go fast and sometimes they just run out, through the winter season Schooners features an oysterless all Tai menu (Tai Tuesdays!) and so on.  So scoring a fresh oyster from Schooners has become something of a minor oracle of sorts for me, a sign from Ocean; scoring one on arrival puts me in balance with the place and helps me settle into a coastal rhythm, scoring one on departure augers an eventual return.  Of course, I've never tested this without the Mac's, so maybe it's just the beer buzz.  Either way, it's a ritual I think I'll stick with.  Who say's I'm not a "man of faith"?

And this was a departure shooter; tomorrow I leave my Oceanside Shangri-La and  roll on down the coast, to just south of California's Humboldt Redwoods State Park, and up to the mountaintop YMAA Retreat Center for a three week stay. I'll study and practice Taijiquan & Qigong with Master Yang Zwing Ming, and teach basic piano& guitar lessons to the resident students in return.  I have a powerful ascetic streak; I guess I'll find out if I've got the discipline for an old-school martial arts training experience. And if I don't keel over from exertion, I should have plenty of time to work on Pylos, the epic play-with-music I'm collaborating on with playwright Jon Berry- one of my more concrete "official" sabbatical projects.  More on that later.  For now, it's time to pack up the SabBatmobile, and say goodbye to this phase of my Peter Pan fantasy.

My fishing buddies; happy cows.  (Which, happy or not, smell like cows just the same.)  This iPhone snap doesn't even begin to capture the visually dramatic effect of this huge herd of pure black & white Holsteins scattered across a vast, fresh, vibrant green pasture, all against a backdrop of blue mountains.  I have a hunch this is one of the herds behind the world famous Tillamook Cheeses.)

*There are lot's of variations on the basic oyster shooter recipe; I like mine with a nice, cold, hoppy ale, but a good vodka works well too.  And while the tradition is to slurp these down in one gulp, I find them just too big to do that comfortably, and there are a myriad of textures and "mouth feels" that come through with just at bit -not a lot- of biting.  Love bites.)