Through Them Changes

My admiration of those mentoring grandmasters of various martial arts were the primary motivation for my time in China. My insatiable love of travel and exploration of new things are among other things that also provided the desire. I was, at an early age, looking for ways to spend a significant time abroad. Early internet research revealed that teaching was a sound route to live abroad. After earning my bachelors, I was determined to move to Korea, having gone as far as acquiring all documents necessary for the visa application. It was during the summer before I was to be on my way, that I fell in love with a girl from the county which I was raised. The power of love would put a hold on those intentions to live abroad for another three years. Having graduated just a year after the economic recession of 2008, I fought for decent jobs in various fields. With many of these positions involving teaching or some sort of instructional capacity, I maintained the idea that I was drawn to teaching and if the opportunity to go would arise, that I would leave for Asia to teach. Ultimately, the opportunity would come in the form of failure. I had been working for Buckeye Community Services, a social service for the developmentally disabled, and my boss was leaving. I applied for the newly opened position, and stood as a well-qualified candidate. When I didn’t get the job, I was overwhelmed with a sense of defeat. Having the relationship I did with the company, I felt as though my last chance for a descent pay, doing something I could be proud of, had disintegrated. It was deep in this sentiment when I came to the conclusion that it was time to leave the country. With the state of the US economy, and a desire to provide for and propose to my partner, I decided that I would go to Shanghai, China. There, I could not only earn a great deal, but with most of my previous martial arts experience having been in Japanese and Korean arts, I stood to learn the most studying the arts there. This was obviously a challenging decision. Not only was I leaving the one I loved most in the world, family, friends, I was leaving behind almost everything I had become accustomed to growing up in a western country. Coming to the decision, and especially living with the decision, came with a great deal of undesirable emotions. Nonetheless, it almost always has felt as though it was the right decision.
Some of the best advice I’ve ever been given:
​                        “You’ll make whatever your decision, the right one.”
This can be seen as almost promoting self-ignorance, providing for those who chronically think they are always right. My take however, is that whether your decision leads you to a perceived success or failure, one can always reflect on those past experiences as learning opportunities. Failure to make the “right” decision, can often provide for the most learning, and therefore, is more effective in lengthening the stride of education. If what we fear is the pain of failure, the possibilities become endless if you remove that fear. Easier said than done of course, when the pain of failure includes the pain of heartbreak or falling 800ft to your death.

It was after a couple months in Shanghai, when I felt the urge to reach beyond the comforts of the expatriates that lived and worked alongside me at Shanghai High School. I went to meetup.com to find a group of fellow climbing enthusiasts. It didn’t take long before they had invited me on a climb outside of Beijing. This brought us far out into the countryside, where very little examples of modernization were found. It was the road trip to the location of our climb that I revealed to the team that this would be my first multi-pitch climb, a method of climbing that allows ascension beyond the capability of a normal rope length, or pitch. Truthfully, I had been preparing myself for this level of technical skill and physical ability for some time, and I expressed this to reassure them. Though I had done my best to prepare, it was truly one of the most difficult challenges of my life. Nothing could really prepare me to find myself hanging hundreds of feet in the air, suspended by my harness and equipment. Mentally it was challenging, not only because of the exposure, but also because of the physical toll it took on my body.

Wai Gua Lie Zao  246m (807ft)

With a total of nine pitches (majority of which were at a 5.10 rating for the climbers out there,) I remember feeling as though my forearms were to burst open after just three. I recall vividly, standing on a ledge of just a few inches belaying my partner. With all my weight into my harness and the balls of my feet, my calves were growing tired. I placed my knees to the wall and sat on my heels for relief. It was then, I looked back at the setting sun and realized that, at the pace we were ascending, we would surely be finishing this climb in the dark. I began pleading to God for the strength to complete the climb, and the ability to make the ascent safely. 
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As one can surmise, I made it out of China fine. I did find myself single, but my failure to reclaim this woman’s affection led to an independent exploration of the Western United States, and my subsequent discovery of the academic program in naturopathic medicine I currently find myself in. Change is never easy. I often get the usual envious proclamations surrounding my travels throughout the globe, and it always comes to mind how difficult life can be in the heart of change. Although I sometimes find myself questioning a person’s ability to change, I believe strongly in the plasticity of the human race. Our body’s ability to heal is awe-inspiring, our mind’s ability to cope, incredible. Whether change is tiny, or large, it always takes some level of sacrifice. The time to grow and raise your own food, one of the most time consuming practices of our history, is sacrificed to provide room for endless forms of human expression, and pursuit of experiencing or understanding the world around us. Principally, if I claim to believe in the plasticity of an individual, then I must consider if the world’s entire population as a whole is capable of change. My dearest hope, is that change is entirely possible. My desire, is that the sacrifice is met with embrace. That we don’t allow fear to conquer, but rather be indicative of a great stride.

About Alexander Arrington