"Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power"
Lao Tzu
The day was an unusually sunny one.
The smog had been brushed away by the gentle breeze, which caressed my face as
I stood in the stadium’s stands. My friend Chuanchao had invited me to one of
his kungfu practices. I had asked him about two weeks ago if I could take some
photos of him doing taichi—he taught taichi, as well as assisting the kungfu
class which I take. Actually, as part of his program, he competes in kungfu,
taichi, and Chinese fencing.
I held up a
hand to block the sun from my eyes as I surveyed the field before me. The red
track was covered with runners, both soloists and groups. The field had a horde
of students—mostly young men—who were either stretching or practicing their
footwork with soccer balls. Along the outskirts of the track, on the packed
dirt, were several fierce games of badminton played by older folks. They appear
to be all white hair and smiles, until you put a racket in their hand and
suddenly they become the Serena Williams.There was one group, however, which didn’t fit in with the rest. They were on the outside part of the track, on a section with the same rubbery material as the track itself. A perfect medium to practice martial arts on. Heedless of possible injury, I picked up my feet and skipped down the concrete “seats”. As I drew closer, a figure detached itself from the main group and came to meet me. It was Chuanchao. He greeted me with his usual smile.
