Before the Mountain: Preparing to be a Student Again

In the coming weeks, I’ll be traveling to China to spend time training in the Wudang Mountains.

There is, of course, a practical side to preparing for a trip like this. Visas and flights and other transportation arrangements. Figuring out what to pack. Considering what the weather might be like. Learning enough Mandarin to hopefully communicate a little. Trying to understand customs and etiquette so that I can arrive as a respectful guest.

I’ve been preparing physically, too. Practicing forms. Training in standing meditation. Thinking about what the days there might ask of me.

But after completely overwhelming myself with all the prep, I realized that the most important preparation has very little to do with any of those things.

Because, at the end of the day, I’m preparing to become a student again.

I teach now. People come to my classes and look to me for instruction. I answer questions, correct movements, explain concepts and try to help others understand an art that I am still learning myself.

For me, teaching deepens my own understanding and helps me be a better student. Teaching is part of my own training. However, I've also become accustomed to being the person who is supposed to know.

There is something wonderfully freeing, albeit a little scary, about deliberately stepping out of that role.

When I arrive in China, I don’t want to arrive carrying everything I already know in front of me. I don’t want to constantly compare what I’m being taught with what I’ve learned before or mentally organize every experience into something I can bring home and teach (although I most definitely will be doing this).

I want to leave some empty space. I want to be present. After all, it's not every day a person gets to travel halfway around the world to train with a master in the birthplace of Taoism and Tai Chi.

There is an old idea often associated with Eastern philosophy: you cannot fill a cup that is already full.

Sometimes learning requires accumulating knowledge.

And sometimes learning requires loosening our grip on it.

So, I’ve been thinking about three simple questions with which I want to start each day:

What can I learn today?

What am I noticing?

What don’t I understand yet?

More about that last question...

There is freedom in allowing ourselves not to understand something immediately. We don’t have to name it, explain it, master it or decide what it means right away.

We can simply notice and accept that this is something we need to explore further.

I don’t know exactly what I will learn in China. I have ideas, certainly. Things I’m curious about. Things I hope to experience.

But I don't want to write the story before I get there.

I don’t need the trip to be profound, nor do I need to return with "secrets" from the mountain.

And...I don’t need to prove that I belong there.

I simply want to arrive curious, respectful and ready to learn.

There is something liberating about becoming a beginner again.

A beginner doesn’t have to know.

A beginner gets to ask.

A beginner gets to watch.

A beginner gets to be surprised.

Being a forever student isn’t pretending that we know nothing; it’s simply understanding that no matter how much we’ve learned, there will always be more to discover.

So, as I prepare for the mountains, I’m packing clothes, studying Mandarin, making travel arrangements and continuing my practice.

But I’m also trying to make a little room inside the cup.

The empty space may be the most important thing I bring with me.

--Rhiannon