Processing…….!

Last night’s I Ho Chuan meeting was a bit of a shocker.

We have have had several changes and adjustments announced in the past, but this one felt very different and even though „nothing“ changes , it genuinely surprised me. I’m using this blog to figure out how it actually affects me and how I feel about it. So please take it with a grain of salt, it’s still fresh and a little raw.

I understand where our master instructors are coming from. I don’t know all the background details, but even in my few years on the team I’ve seen what they’re talking about. The levels of engagement vary a lot, and I can’t pretend I’m above that. When I first joined three years ago, it felt like a mountain to climb. The requirements terrified me, and I’ve never met them all, not even close. But every year has been a little better than the one before. It’s been uphill battle the whole way, but it is progress and for me the direction matters more than the numbers.

I’ve only ever known this team as a mix of steady drivers and the ones who drift more or less, sometimes disappearing for a while before returning. And while maybe it shouldn’t take that kind of reminder, even those who drift can pull the rest of us forward without meaning to. When one of the quieter names suddenly pops up again in the blog list, it’s like alarm bells go off in my head wake up, time to re-engage. But I’ll also admit what was mentioned last night hit close to home. I’ve seen that pattern of a few people slipping back gives quiet permission for others to do the same. I’ve witnessed it, I’ve felt it, and I’ve used it. It can and does water down the fire for those who are pushing hard. But I believe it’s also true that even among the „slackers“, there’s a pull, when one of us stirs, it shakes the rest awake too. Both things can be true.

When I ask myself why I keep coming back to this team, the reasons come in layers and it’s a bit all over the place. First, the structure moves me forward. Without it I’d not be where I am, because the accountability the team gives me is something I’d really struggle to build on my own. Then there’s the community and it’s not that I need more social life, I’m lucky to have good friends and family but Kung Fu is a part of me that most of them don’t share or even understand. The team fills that specific gap. Every time someone leaves the team there’s a little sadness, even if we didn’t interact much one-on-one. 

I’d also say that the team bridges levels. In regular classes, people move up and shift to different days, and it’s easy to lose track of who’s even still part of Silent River kung fu. The I Ho Chuan lets color belts and black belts cross paths again, which makes it easier to ask questions, find mentorship, and feel part of the whole.

For those who live out of town or travel, the team provides a thin but vital thread. From my own experience, even just reading names on WhatsApp and seeing who blogged or trained that day keeps me connected. That thin thread can be the difference between doing a few push-ups or doing none. It also ties together those working toward black belt and those who’ve already walked that path. Sometimes it’s not a full conversation, just a few words exchanged in passing that land exactly where they need to. It kind of reminds me of the transitions between stances: a stance on its own is static, but the movement between them gives everything its power. The same goes for our team. It’s what happens in those small transitions, the change-room-chats, the smiles after class, the quick check-ins, that give our training more impact. And I’m sad to think about losing some of these micro-moments that have inspired or reset me without me even realizing it.

Accountability is one of the main factors. Knowing there are twenty-some odd others out there aiming for the same goal, even if we’re all struggling in different ways and at different times creates momentum. That shared struggle is powerful. 

Then there’s my fear of missing out. I’m not going to lie I actually dread performing in the demos, yet I feel miserable if I have to miss them. I’ve secretly wished for an excuse to skip the Tiger Challenge, and then felt awful when I actually couldn’t go. I don’t always love the doing, but I always love the having done it.

There’s also ego. I know that word carries baggage, but it’s real. I’m proud to be part of the „flagship“ team. While I wrestle with imposter-syndrome feelings, being part of something that represents the best of our school makes me stand a little taller. That pride keeps me invested.

And of course there’s the more universal resistance to change. I think humans are just wired to flinch at it. Even when I understand why a decision makes sense, my system still rings the alarm bells. 

The truth is, we sometimes get a little nose-blind to our own stagnation and mediocrity. We stop noticing when we’re on autopilot. Maybe this shake-up is what some of us, if not all of us, need to wake up again. I actually think this forced break holds value. It’s hard to choose to step away voluntarily. Having it chosen for us might help us reset, refocus, and return with new intent.

I also have to acknowledge the other side of it. Our master instructors carry responsibilities I can only imagine. Running the school, keeping both the technical and traditional standards high, preserving the philosophies behind Kung Fu, motivating us, managing events, public perception, logistics, and their own energy—it’s a huge load, and I wouldn’t have the slightest clue on how to juggle this. Change always has consequences, not necessarily good or bad, just real. Cutting the team smaller will tighten the focus no doubt, and I’m sure have positive effects on the candidates and eventually me too. But I do also think about how things like demos, banquets, and those cross-class connections will be harder to maintain. I know our instructors are juggling more balls than I can see, but I trust they’ll find and always thrive for the right balance.

If I could dream a little for the future, maybe there could be a version of this team that holds space for both: the intensity and pressure for the candidates, and a supportive community around them. And maybe also a place for the rest of us the ones not grading that year who are still fighting the slow slide back into mediocrity, trying to keep our edge and our momentum going with the same standards, same goals, but practiced at different levels of pressure.

So yes, I’ll admit, right now I’m a little sad but I’m learning to embrace the change.Admittedly for me, the I Ho Chuan has been a lot about the people beside me, the shared discomfort, the smiles and laughter after class, the small reminders that we’re part of something bigger. I know the word “social club” came up yesterday, maybe a little sarcastically, and while I understand why i think the purpose of it is what matters most. It’s not the social as in casual fun, but the intentional, chosen circle of people who share this strange, demanding and amazing thing we do. That’s a very specific kind of social club, and I value it.

To the outside world, it actually looks crazy to pay money every year to be pushed out of our comfort zones, to be asked to volunteer, to sign up for what feels like impossible requirements, to feel guilty when we fall short, and still to show up again the next year. But somehow, most of us do. 

So it must be worth it.?!