Windsor Chow Mei Ling:

​

Date: October 18-20, 2021 (Autumn)

Perspective One: The Impact of Environmental Space (Including Wilderness/City) on the Body

​

Environmental space greatly influences a person's state (both physically and psychologically). For example, as I sit in the office, where there are only two people, it is not quiet. There are occasional sounds of chairs moving, dripping from the air conditioner, and drilling noises from the construction site outside. I can feel the cold air conditioning on my skin, and the bright lights make my head hurt. All these factors make my body feel tired, and I just want to sleep.

​

Wilderness / City

​

In cities, humans create many convenient things for living. After living in the city for a long time, my body has become accustomed to responding to these conveniences. For instance, at a traffic light, when you see or hear a red light, you naturally stop; when you see a green light, you cross the street, without having to think too much about what to do.

​

In the wilderness, there are many unknowns. No one tells you when a wild boar might charge at you, when a monkey might snatch your bag, or when a spider web could be right in front of you. The paths are no longer flat; there is dirt, gravel, trees, water, grass, and insects all under your feet.

​

In the wilderness, you must face everything happening around you, as well as the things that have yet to happen. Most people often tell themselves, "Be careful." Consequently, different parts of the body respond to this thought; the eyes may become more active and zoom in, and the limbs may stretch out more to help maintain balance.

​

When in the wild, the body naturally enjoys the feast provided by the world.

​

***

Perspective Two: Understanding "Chaos" in the Learning Process

​

What is chaos?

​

Chaos is a state.
Chaos is a sound.
Chaos is a breath.
Chaos is a jumble of thoughts.

​

Hiking can be chaotic.
Lying down can be chaotic.
Talking can be chaotic.
Making eye contact can be chaotic.
Choosing can be chaotic.
Drinking water can be chaotic.

​

It can also be the opposite.

​

Chaos is feeling lost.
Chaos is self-criticism.
Chaos is discomfort.
Chaos is wanting to escape.
Chaos is unknown factors.
Chaos is unpredictability.
Chaos is saying sorry.

Chaos is simply chaos.

Chaos is a reminder that there are lessons to learn!

​

***

Perspective Three: Writing as Part of the Learning Experience

​

Before starting to tame the chaos and working with everyone, I never thought that training would emphasize writing and documentation so much. At first, I felt quite pressured when I heard about it. Although I don't dislike words, I always felt we weren't really friends. I’m not the type of person who easily or skillfully shares through language, so I never used any method to document my own learning.

​

Without careful reflection, I can become vague.

​

Writing feels troublesome and time-consuming, but it is useful.

​

When writing, it’s just me and myself. I would describe it as a way to re-enter that moment in time and space that needs recording. It’s like the present version of me meeting the past version of myself at that moment to communicate and have a conversation (or talk to myself).

​

At that time, I focus intensely and don’t allow other distractions to invade, directly documenting my own memories, feelings, perceptions, observations, reactions, and my body.

​

After each writing session, I revisit what I’ve written. I read it immediately after finishing, again the next day, and then after a week, and I realize I have so many different thoughts and ideas.

​

Through repeated documentation, I can easily identify some of my habits (which may relate to perspectives on viewing things, decision-making when faced with choices, or the triggers for thoughts/emotions, etc.).

​

Although after each writing session I feel I’m being long-winded, it also serves as a reflection and reminder for myself.

​

Additionally, I believe an important aspect of writing is that, besides my own records, I can also view others' records. Through reading others' words, I can see our differences and perspectives, which is fascinating. It’s not a verbal communication, but rather a qualitative exploration (whether directed at oneself or others).

​

***

Perspective Four: Ongoing Mutual Observation with a Partner

​

When it was explained that I needed an observation subject and to record for the other person, it immediately triggered my sense of responsibility. I thought that without this framework, I wouldn’t actively tell myself, “I need to focus,” or I wouldn’t know what to focus on.

​

Windsor and Joanna

​

We were already quite familiar with each other (personalities, bodies, and some habits), and on that basis, with ongoing mutual observation, it felt like we were playing a game of “spot the difference.” Besides writing records, we sometimes spend a little time discussing our feelings and discoveries. It feels like we initially started at a point and now have drawn an extended line from it.

​

At first, I focused more on changes in the other person’s body or challenges in their personal patterns. After observing a few times, it might become a bit dull, and naturally, I would start to explore more detailed aspects or subtle changes (e.g., movements of fingers, a slight breath, a head tilt), thinking about what they represent. Without the ongoing observation, I wouldn’t have the energy or time to discover these various dimensions.

​

Sometimes, I really want to know what they are observing or thinking.

​

Once, I even immersed myself in their world, as if I had become them.

​

Toward the end, when we discussed again, I might try to imitate them, allowing the other person to explore in another way besides written records.

​

Joanna Fung Ka Yin:

​

My dear friend Gao Qi once shared with me that when she writes records, she approaches it from the perspective of viewing the subject as a stranger. I—after putting on a helmet—base my writing on my feelings and efforts in the moment, reflecting and recording as per my interests, or flowing freely like a stream of consciousness. Those interested are welcome to exchange views.

​

About the Body

For me, the most noticeable change in this month is definitely my body. Physically, they are quite remarkable. After a session of physical work, when Ting-hin helped me with treatment, he said to praise the body more; otherwise, the injured area wouldn't cooperate, and after healing, it might become stubborn and return to discomfort.

After the injury, in the first few days, I was basically complaining about how slow the recovery was: “You could be better, heal faster, you know? You must do well after this rest!”

After hearing Ting-hin’s comments, I, of course, changed my strategy to praise, but it felt a bit awkward and insincere; I thought my body wouldn’t believe it.

A week later, dragging my injured right leg, I rejoined the routine—once, twice, three times. How did my left foot become so strong? How did my left thigh become so muscular? How did my body manage to coordinate itself to fall without injuring any part? How did my chest open up? How did my abdomen and thighs start to know they needed to work? How did massaging my calf muscles make my feet move more smoothly? How did pushing away scarred tissue make everything heal so much faster? How did I know I needed to communicate with you and rebuild trust?

​

What I want to emphasize is not how amazing I am, but how amazing my body is. The body itself is remarkable. I just didn’t know it.

​

I need to communicate well with my body, understand each other through words, intention, touch, listening, and feeling. I thought my body had developed quite well over time, but I realized I was training and understanding my body through my mind, focusing on muscle training, give and take, spatial awareness, etc., without letting my body express itself. I didn’t truly understand them and didn’t give them space to show themselves, lacking conscious listening to the body's voice, merely judging what could be done or not. I didn’t ask why I couldn’t do it or explore with my body how to consciously coordinate to achieve it.

Just like Ting-hin mentioned that flat feet can be cured, I was shocked. Firstly, I wasn’t aware of my flat feet, and secondly, I knew my knees hurt when going down stairs and were rather tight, which related to my toes not gripping the ground, and my thigh and abdominal muscles not engaging during daily standing and walking. I also disliked my standing posture because my pelvis protrudes and my knees bend slightly back.

​

I knew what the phenomena were but hadn’t considered that they could be addressed by changing bodily habits, which Ting-hin helped me understand regarding body structure.

Due to the injury, I learned from Ting-hin how to massage my calf muscles; the connection between the sole of my foot and calf muscles is fascinating.

​

Additionally, by participating in training I rarely do, like climbing gym equipment, I became aware of how I understand my body. I don’t trust my feet as much, especially the soles and toes, compared to my core muscles and hands, so I can’t confidently transfer my weight and balance maintenance to my feet.

​

I truly benefited from my injury, not just from the reflections above but also because my goals of combating flat feet and opening my chest are slowly being helped by my body. This means that before the injury, I had to consciously and attentively tell my toes to grip the ground... After the injury, my left foot took on a nurturing role, completing its evolution.

Now, I need to assist my right foot in catching up with the left. Go for it! You’re doing great too!

​

Every morning, I now hear my body shouting, “I want to stretch, I want to exercise,” but my spirit and will have yet to catch up with my body’s desires.

​

About the Inner Self feat. Inner Demons

Inner demons include arrogance, inferiority, self-doubt, distrust, and self-denial. I’ve always considered myself to be confident, self-aware, and good at communicating with myself, accustomed to self-reflection.

​

Recently, I read something enlightening:
"The more familiar you think you are, the more unfamiliar you actually are; and vice versa."
This notion limits my ability to question my understanding of myself. For instance, I view myself as adventurous, bold, and calm—qualities I believe are intrinsic to my nature.

However, when I climbed a climbing frame or a steep cliff, I realized I was actually cautious, risk-averse, and not calm at all. My body was communicating this to me.

If not for these extraordinary experiences, my understanding of myself would remain at that superficial level, without probing deeper into why I perceive myself in certain ways. While opening myself to new experiences can catalyze breakthroughs in self-awareness, it’s also beneficial to question my everyday behaviors and thoughts beyond just accepting "I am this way." This allows for deeper understanding and the potential to uncover different facets of myself.

​

In conclusion, my inner demons represent my chaos. On the last day, I shared with everyone that I often feel others are dismissive of me, especially when making decisions. This feeling breeds inner demons of inferiority and self-denial, which can undermine the strong sense of conviction and responsibility I’ve built. I find that I rely on others' affirmation (especially during chaotic times) to rebuild what has collapsed.

I remember Xuan sharing that I shouldn't misjudge myself. When I perform routines blindfolded, I instinctively feel I'm not doing well and worry that others think the same. Growing up, I was subtly conditioned to believe that being wrong is bad, and since I rarely made mistakes, I blamed myself whenever I did. This led to a fear of making mistakes and a reluctance to ask questions. When problems arise, I often assume I’m at fault and feel bad about it. My parents seldom praised me, which made me uncomfortable with giving praise, whether to myself or others. Instead, I often default to self-blame. As I grow older, I’ve been improving, but these roots remain.

Thus, I always hope others recognize my efforts. Is it really like that?

​

The contradiction I didn’t share with everyone is my inner demon of arrogance. Compared to self-doubt, I find myself more prone to feeling good about myself. I often intuitively believe that I’m impressive in others’ eyes and even desire to feel superior. If I'm not praised while others are acknowledged for doing well, it feels like they’ve outperformed me, which frustrates me.

​

I grapple with competitiveness and an obsession with winning.

​

I’ve been fighting against this competitive spirit to the extent that I avoid activities that involve competition. I don’t want to feel the pressure to win, nor do I want to lose. I also dislike my arrogant self and when I sense that feeling of "being good," I actively try to counter it. Thankfully, as I continue to "tame" this chaos, I’ve grown to fear the notion of winning and losing less. I’m learning to appreciate others rather than look down on them or myself, and importantly, I’m learning to enjoy the process.

However, the roots still exist. I fear that the feeling of "thinking I’m great" will lead me to view others as inferior, which would significantly impact my communication and interactions with others, including my companions in chaotic situations.

​

I dislike judging others based on my own standards, as it elevates me above them, creating a hierarchy that I detest.

​

About Companions/Others

I observe how Ting-Hsuan interacts with us and find it intriguing.

​

It seems clear that Ting-Hsuan knows the answers or has more accurate insights from his experiences, yet he asks for our opinions. When he listens to us, I genuinely feel he is unexpectedly sincere, showing kindness, focused listening, and valuing our thoughts.

I’m not there yet.

​

My Learning/Reminders:

1. Each interaction is new; treat everyone with the same approach, experiencing each as different.

2. The ability to appreciate others and treat them kindly depends on how I view them.

3. Each person is unique with their own circumstances, so I cannot expect others to behave like me.

4. I must remain open to understanding and communicating.

It's like watching a foreign film without any expectations or judgments—just enjoying the surprise.

​

About Observational Records

Honestly, it’s so challenging. Recording well feels even harder than completing the routine.

 

Before the last few routines, our group would record first and then perform, which was a bit better for mental state, but initially, I still struggled. Recording after doing the routine often left my mind unable to function well by the end, resulting in a blank stare.

 

What I did:

1. Initially, Xuan suggested, "Write whatever you see," so I did just that.

2. Eventually, I found myself falling into a habit of observational recording, wondering what Wind wanted to see or needed. I focused on imagery and shoulder openings.

3. I tried to take more detailed notes from Gaoqi's records, especially regarding bodily movements like range of motion and balance.

Introspection:

1. I often hastily note my body movements, fearing I won’t remember, which causes me to miss capturing present observations.

2. It’s difficult to simultaneously record body movements and imagery; specializing in one makes it hard to relate to the other. Often, thoughts flash by, leading to a disconnect between memory and the moment.

3. My hasty notes often include vague terms: OMG, interesting, often, like...

Observing Others to Understand Myself

 

About Space

I believe there are many intriguing subjects to observe both in the city and in the mountains.

 

Walking barefoot on concrete feels warm and memorable, even when rain falls, as my feet sense the earth’s warmth.

​

In the mountains, there are moments of freedom and ease, as well as times of heightened alertness and fear. The city often serves as a familiar starting and ending point, feeling more relaxed.

​

I particularly enjoy walking slowly through the city at night; there’s always more activity and interest. In contrast, the mountains at night tend to be quiet and dark, requiring more focus on movement.

​

I hold gratitude and respect for the earth in the mountains, whereas I feel none for concrete.

​

Yang Wing-Lam AMI:

​

Taming the Chaos

​

Perspective One: The Impact of Environmental Space (Including Wilderness/City) on the Body

Every part of our body is influenced by the environment at every moment, whether we are aware of it or not.

• Waves can make you wet;

• Sharp stones can hurt your feet;

• The wind can make your hair flow;

• Air conditioning can cause blood vessels and pores to constrict;

• Intense sunlight can cause your eyes to squint.

Is there anything that isn’t affected?
Is the sound we hear just a reflection of our awareness, or is it awareness combined with the body?

Well, I realized that if I use my philosophical essay-writing brain to express this, it wouldn’t work, so I need to bring out a different part of myself.

​

***

​

Hi!
Conclusion first: After participating in the chaos-taming process, I can run a few streets with a few kilograms in my bag,
I discovered I don’t know how to walk or run properly,
Hiking isn’t as terrifying as I imagined,
I confirmed that I prefer not to be a leader unless necessary,
I’ve gained weight,
And I’ve accepted the fact that I may appear distant and hard to approach.

 

About Writing

​

At the end of July this year, after completing my master’s thesis, I decided to stop writing for a while. Over the past few years, I’ve been writing too much strictly logical, coherent, and causally connected text. It’s not that it’s bad, but I became overly analytical, even focusing on whether what others say makes sense, if it’s logical, if there are blind spots, and how to solve problems. I didn’t feel much empathy for others. At that time, I felt constrained by words, concepts, and logic, which is very dangerous, so I decided to set down the pen temporarily and focus on listening and feeling, accepting that some things may slip away.

Then came the chaos-taming process, which required everyone to document carefully every night and upload online.

​

Okay!

Joining means fulfilling responsibilities, so I had to write.
It’s not just about me; I share it with my companions, who can learn more through my words, so I must write.

​

At first, I struggled to start writing, constantly thinking about the structure of the content. Should it be a DSE nine-section narrative? Should I use different descriptive techniques? Should I handwrite or mentally calculate? I spent half an hour just crafting the topic, finally deciding to write as if chatting with a friend, without overthinking.

 

As I talked more, I ended up writing one piece after another.
Did it confine me? I’m not sure; it seems not, although there was indeed pressure.
However, I really enjoy this method of sharing. It suits my introverted nature, which needs time to digest, internalize, transform, organize, and then express. Also, it’s more about connection—people are not forced to listen just because we share the same space; they have to choose to click to read what I’ve written.
This is our connection, mutually formed by us.
💖

​

I Write Myself

​

​

​

Writing is certainly for recording, allowing reflection, and even correcting and improving things.
However, as I write reflections, I realize that writing is a medium for projecting ideas and conveying them. When I articulate my feelings, attaching them to words and materializing them, the process helps me release negative emotions and related fantasies in the moment, making me feel much better! It’s like a fiber optic or sewage system.

​

Every time I write, it feels like everyone is sitting in a circle, listening to me tell stories. I don’t intend to hide anything; I just genuinely want to share my feelings and thoughts.

Interestingly, in one of my reflections, I realized I had written over 8,000 words, as if I were writing a novel.
When I share, it's always like this.

​

​

​

I Write About Others

 

 

(Hiking)

I have a tendency to avoid naming names when I have negative emotions or images about someone. I won’t directly say who did what and how I feel about them. The weight of words can be very heavy, especially when it involves others and emotional statements. We never know how a sentence might impact someone; a simple "They completely disregard my feelings" could cause someone significant distress or lead them to make life-altering decisions. Therefore, I choose my words carefully. Sharing the situation allows me to express my feelings without necessarily commenting on the individual. More often than not, we unintentionally accuse others, and even if it’s unintentional, it can be interpreted as blame, which makes people unhappy. I don’t want others to be affected by my assumptions or perceived "facts." Hence, my writing often revolves around "I."

 

But I also think about whether this is a form of self-righteous perception of others.

• I think others will be impacted by my words.

• I think others will feel unhappy if they read something about themselves.

• I think my perspective is correct.
  Am I not trusting others enough?

But I counter myself, saying that of course, what I say has an impact; it’s inevitable. That doesn’t mean I don’t trust others. On the contrary, I share so much because I do trust them.

 

[Chaos - The Beginning of Tremors]

 

 

(Routine)

Writing about the routine feels reassuring because it involves observing others and immediately recording their postures along with my imagination. However, I’m really not good at recording bodily movements because I’m not familiar enough with the body; it seems I need to read up on it.

 

 

 

Others Write About Me

• Cool Color Palette
  Fellow companions, how do you see me?

Tiffany

Thanks to Tiffany for sharing her observations about me in such a detailed and refreshing way. Though we haven't talked much, through repeated observations and records, it feels like we’re already quite familiar.

 

Here’s Tiffany’s imaginative perception of AMI:
“A martial artist/soldier/warrior, filming an M-sized advertisement/proud classical music concertmaster/puppet/little Lu Bao, flowing and playing in a cotton-candy playland/a fairy in a pink kimono/a hammer thrower or a shot put athlete/Mulan/Shang-Chi's mom/a headless ghost/revived corpse/Zombies/Sadako/a superhero/a little girl peeking in from the neighboring village/Disney teacup/clay/convict/cunning predator.”

 

When companions observe and articulate my habits, I feel exposed yet excited.
Through reviewing the records, I’ve not only become more aware of my body’s posture and areas needing improvement, but I’ve also learned more about myself. I realized that what I think and how I express myself can often be different—while I might want to play with others and initiate interactions, the signal others receive might be “don’t bother me.” This may result from my weight being shifted backward or staying in one position for too long.
Now that I know this, I can choose how to adjust my body when I want others to see that I’m open to communication.

 

Interestingly, my body has unconsciously learned from Tiffany. Once, when I needed to share Tiffany's habits, I said, “Tiffany tends to stay on the sidelines and then suddenly join in, only to retreat shortly after.” As I spoke, it naturally came out, and others agreed. However, I can't quite recall what specific actions I took at that moment, and aside from that instance, I haven’t imitated T. This is the most magical part. Through constant focused observation and recording, the body can implant certain memories, manifesting them later (whether consciously or unconsciously). Therefore, leading by example is indeed crucial.

 

Chaos

To me, chaos is losing control.
My chaos involves making choices without much thought, deciding things entirely on impulse, doing what I want and avoiding what I don’t. However, acting on impulse can create internal conflict within my system. Which voice do I follow? The one that doesn’t want to, the one I think I should, the one I want to ignore, or the one that wants to leave? Each of these voices tries to attack and defend in their ways, while my only awareness is that chaos is occurring, and I can only watch it unfold. It’s like a broken brake, with the car racing forward at high speed, but something is tying me to the backseat, causing a potential crash (while outwardly I’m moving at a snail’s pace or not moving at all).

This chaos arises from overwhelming stimuli received by my senses, leading to a rapid depletion of my energy.

 

When my energy drops to a certain level, I can’t use any techniques, such as “magic shield,” “communication,” or “analysis.” I feel as if I’ve been filled with 100 kilograms of lead, making me sluggish, unable to lift my hands or legs, and just wanting to sleep. If I can’t move, I might just sit with my knees pulled up, my mind completely blank, just wanting to recharge; if I can move, I would immediately fly back home.

 

This is how the environment impacts my consciousness and body.

 

Why do I have different systems? Why can’t I just have one mind?
It doesn’t matter. I’ve tried; it doesn’t work.

 

We | Like/Need | We

 

Taming exists alongside chaos; it’s not about eliminating it.

 

Conclusion

Butterfly
You
What knots have you tied, and what have you loosened?
I
Loosened my waistband.
We

​

​

​

​

​

​

Wang Zi-Han Tiffany:

​

Environment

Outdoors, I feel the vastness of the world and my own insignificance. Humans build walls to shrink their world, making themselves feel bigger and more arrogant. Walking through mountains, seas, and cities reminds me not to hide in the rehearsal room, avoiding the world.

​

I experienced Hong Kong as a tourist, seeing it anew.

 

Chaos

In life, many things accumulate, and over time, they become chaotic. My room is messy, my desk is cluttered, my biological clock is off, and my emotions and thoughts are disordered. Even my MacBook's desktop is chaotic. Periodically, I feel like "my life is a mess," and I expend a lot of effort organizing—cleaning my room, arranging my schedule, establishing good habits, taking breaks, and finding quiet. However, organizing must be done regularly, even daily, to prevent life from becoming chaotic again. For me, understanding and addressing my chaos is essential for my well-being, to avoid falling into a cycle of negative emotions.

 

Writing

For myself, writing equals organizing plus deepening experiences. If not for writing, about 80% of what has happened would be forgotten. I used to learn casually, remembering what I could and asking classmates or searching online for what I couldn’t recall. Recently, I’ve become anxious about forgetting what I’ve learned. Through this workshop, I’ve developed the habit of reflecting after each meeting, revisiting my experiences.

 

Posting reflections on Google Drive allows my group members to access them, like we’ve become pen pals. Compared to face-to-face discussions, this method is more efficient for understanding each other's hiking experiences, as it removes the pressure of conversational etiquette and warming up, enabling everyone to share their thoughts freely. Each group member is a valuable learning source; through their reflections, I learn how they cope with physical and mental fatigue, face fears, and care for each other. Sometimes, seeing the difficulties and pains others share makes us more aware of how to support and care for one another, gradually building deep trust and connections during our hikes and practice.

 

Companions

In past workshops, I rarely mentioned my classmates' progress, usually summarizing their actions. This often felt lonely, and many observations would be missed. This time, assigning each person a partner allowed me to observe and be observed, fostering a deeper understanding of each other's patterns. I began to notice subtleties in my partner's habits and could distinguish whether certain behaviors were typical for them. Sometimes, what seemed the same at first glance had tiny differences or progress. Similarly, my partner’s keen observations revealed habits I hadn’t noticed before. We took the time to understand what we wanted to work on during the workshop and how we were progressing, creating a sense of mutual support and understanding.

 

Pan Zi-Jun Cao Mi:

 

Perspective One: The Impact of Environmental Space (Including Wilderness/City) on the Body

​

Initially, I felt the outdoors was very dark, but I grew accustomed to it, realizing that the city is simply too bright. I still feel fear on covered paths (when the lights are off) due to the unknown and potential for injury.

​

I place great importance on feeling clean, so during my first hike, I spent a lot of energy applying hand sanitizer and brushing off leaves, dirt, and spider webs from my body. Eventually, I accepted that I am also part of nature. During routine hikes and challenges, I’ve learned to feel the weight and strength of my body connecting with the ground, whether barefoot or in hiking shoes, and this is something I realize I need to explore further.

​

In the last hiking challenge, I experienced the difference between urban and wild environments. In the city, once I adjusted my pacing, I had more mental space to notice my relationship with the environment, but I became lax and tripped on the way back. In contrast, due to past injuries, I felt tense in the wilderness, wanting to be cautious. My body (especially my shoulders and hands) tightened as I juggled keeping up with my companions, calculating my next step, and considering safer methods. My thoughts often felt like waves—one after another—leading to excessive tension and little mental space. Thus, communicating and regulating my inner state became crucial.

​

One evening, we had to walk barefoot from the subway station to our work location. What should have been a 15-minute walk stretched to 45 minutes, allowing me to notice how much I had missed in the city, like the texture of bricks and the distance cars began to slow down at traffic lights. I realized that the sensations from my feet helped keep me grounded in the moment.

​

Perspective Two: Understanding "Chaos" in the Learning Process

​

My chaos stems from scattered thoughts. At times, I focus on cleanliness, while at other times, I worry about being too wet. I appreciate nature's beauty but can become overly self-conscious.

​

Initially, I struggled to keep pace with my companions, then relied on willpower to lead, focusing intensely. After a while, I became distracted and stumbled. This happened more than once, and I hope it stops.

​

Chaos envelops me as I run, worrying about reaching the endpoint, unable to let go of myself. It’s a desire to respond to the world, yet when faced with external limitations, acting slowly and lightly becomes a significant challenge. I feel like a minute hand, forever connected to the fast-moving second hand—trapped in a cycle. The subtlety required for observing my body, mind, and surroundings is something I’ve never realized I needed in daily life.

​

As I begin to tame my chaos, it becomes a goal, like a receipt book. Each receipt reveals more layers beneath—gray, olive, pale blue, pink, deep red, purple, white—countless.

 

Perspective Three: Writing as Part of the Learning Experience

Writing is an excellent organizational tool. I used to dread writing; before attending a workshop, I had to handwrite a letter. This involved two steps: brainstorming on my phone and then copying it onto paper. I found that while it took longer, writing allowed for deeper reflection and richer content, enabling me to approach the same point from different angles.

Writing provided me with a rare opportunity to reassess my relationship with my body and the environment, sparking a journey of reflection through words. After hiking, I need to document my experiences for my teammates to read, indirectly facilitating communication that helps build trust and rapport. For instance, after recovering from an injury and returning to hiking, I learned from my partner's reflections that I neglected key points as a leader, almost putting my teammates in danger. Sharing through writing feels sincere and direct, reducing face-to-face awkwardness.

Writing not only fosters reflection but also acts as an action. Holding a pen and writing on paper is far more tangible than my usual method of verbal reflection. Although it takes longer, writing creates a presence that is easily readable, constructing something meaningful. Coupled with the task of viewing the world calmly, I’ve discovered:

• Observational Patterns: 20 minutes of continuous observation requires quick, accurate, and concise descriptions of the observed body’s form and the evoked imagery. This demands a deep understanding of bodily possibilities, and during this time, my mind races—observing, thinking, and writing can lead to losing focus on the emerging imagery.

• Writing Observational Records: This is a mentally taxing process. Based on my simple keywords, I have to imagine the scene. However, filling in my own gaps proves challenging.

• Writing Hiking Records: Similar to the above, but with a calmer approach since these are my experiences, I try to incorporate various metaphors into my narrative.

Overall, the writing experience feels like expanding both my existing and new worlds, concentrating my mind, slowing down time, and enriching my space and thoughts.

 

Perspective Four: Continuous Mutual Observation with a Partner

 

I observed Jovita while she observed me, each with personal goals. Before setting these goals, I had already observed her once. After setting them, our focus became clearer; for instance, I became very attentive during each transition between practices, ensuring she moved closer to her personal goals.

After several observations, fatigue began to hinder my ability to write down my findings. Luckily, Jovita was consistently attempting to connect with others, allowing me to gather insights from their interactions, even when my sensitivity to body postures waned.

 

Jovita's observations of me were serious, focused, relaxed, and gentle. She noticed details in the space that I thought she wouldn’t see while making imaginative connections to my movements (like RPG game pixels or soft, spiky cacti). This helped me recognize barriers to advancing toward my goals while also highlighting my progress.

 

However, it was somewhat regrettable that while I could observe one individual closely, I couldn’t see the entire team's dynamics at all times.

​

Huo Pei-Shuang Miki:

​

Perspective One: The Impact of Environmental Space (Including Wilderness/City) on the Body

In the city, with its crowds and mechanical noises, the concrete environment gradually numbs my senses, leaving me with little curiosity or feeling. However, when I remove my shoes and walk barefoot on the road, bridges, rough concrete, and the smooth tiles of shopping malls, I feel my toes relax. I’m not constricted by tight shoes anymore; I can truly feel the ground's texture and temperature. It gives me a sense of freedom and comfort. I prefer the roughness of concrete, finding it stimulating, whereas smooth tiles can feel cold and make me walk faster.

I’ve discovered that I love clouds. When I see them, my eyes instinctively look up, whether I’m hiking or by the sea. This makes my steps slow down, my muscles relax, especially my shoulders, and my breathing deepens, as if I’m a balloon being filled with air, ready to float away.

When descending stairs (especially steep ones) or slopes, my knees bend, my gaze is fixed on the ground, and my fists clench tightly. I often repeat the opening and closing motion, feeling tense and rigid, with my neck leaning forward. My steps become small, and I frequently need to operate one foot at a time. It’s a state of tension in response to perceived danger, and my mind loops back to childhood memories of rolling down stairs and hitting my head, urging myself not to fall.

​

Perspective Two: Understanding "Chaos" in the Learning Process

My chaos often disrupts my sense of balance, immersing me in my own world while my connection to the outside shrinks. At such moments, it’s hard to articulate my feelings, but my body honestly reflects my inner turmoil. Environmental factors, especially sound and touch, can trigger imagery that evokes memories or emotions, some of which may feel inappropriate for the moment and lead to inner chaos.

My inner turmoil is connected to negative feelings, often manifesting as fear, anxiety, or blankness. For example, the hurried breathing of a teammate can evoke memories of childhood asthma attacks, bringing about a suffocating fear (inner chaos). My steps falter, and I lose sight of the scenery in front of me (outer chaos). I label this state as "chaos."

This chaos isn’t necessarily caused by loud environments or others; sometimes, even tranquil sounds that usually relax me can trigger dissonance when they conflict with my desired state. I may consciously try to resist this dissonance, leading to a kind of unconscious chaos, often manifesting physically before I even recognize it. For instance, the sound of a singing bowl typically relaxes me, but during a group sharing, it transported me to a bright, white space. As the surrounding voices faded, I struggled to listen to each word, feeling as if I were being pulled into that bright, unclear space. My body reacted—my left arm moved, I touched the ground, and tears streamed down (outer chaos). Reflecting on that experience later, I realized my internal state was chaotic because I wanted to resist and control it but felt powerless to do so.

​

Perspective Three: Writing as a Part of the Learning Experience

I usually prefer discussing and sharing through language, which is indeed more convenient and quicker, but it leaves little time for processing. Writing allows me more time to reflect on experiences and collect useful and interesting insights for future reference and development. Sometimes, my verbal sharing flows better than my thoughts, but it can be impulsive and lack depth. Writing helps me organize my thoughts more effectively, providing time for my brain to digest them and allowing me to set clearer improvement goals. Each time I engage in physical training, I can break down each targeted challenge according to those goals, increasing measurable progress.

​

Perspective Four:

Without mutual observation, I struggle to express any feelings. However, observing one individual over time allows their habits to influence me or reveal commonalities. The most profound realization is that both I and the observed (Tiffany) tend to be more passive responders and do not significantly change our pace.

​

Liu Yan-Ling Ling:

 

Taming

Since I was young, I’ve felt a connection to the sea—perhaps I was a mermaid or lived on the ocean floor in a past life. As soon as my body enters the water, I feel a comforting sense of being cradled. I believe that humans are like drops of water, traveling through different places before returning to the sea, only to evaporate and begin another journey.

 

 

Nature Taming the Body

Nature or the wilderness is a wonderful place. Humans should inherently be close to nature. When it comes to exercising the body, the natural world can be a great companion that pushes you. Nature can feel harsh, but it’s not personal. A mountain, a tree, or a rock simply exists as it is. The path may be covered in gravel, but it’s not targeting you. If you choose to conquer it, you must change your body—climb higher, grip tighter, step carefully. Thus, entering the wilderness with a particular body and mindset becomes a test.

 

 

Body and Mind as One

Beyond physical conditioning, the wilderness demands a certain awareness from us. Direction, balance, center of gravity, and movement speed are all crucial. Adjusting these elements in nature also serves as a mental exercise. Am I paying attention to the path I’m walking and understanding my position? Can I move down a moss-covered stone step without slipping while maintaining my speed? When fear, fatigue, or thoughts of giving up arise, can I keep my inner calm and continue forward?

 

 

Chaos

“It’s not about seeing the destination before continuing to run; it’s about running to see the destination.”

 

I think there are moments of "chaos" in the city, wilderness, or studio. Chaos doesn’t always appear; if you avoid it for too long, you might even forget it exists. It’s a ghost fed by long-standing habits, obsessions, and suppressed emotions and thoughts. Whether running, practicing, or living, it can arise. What I can do seems to be learning how to coexist with it while continuing to move forward. Sometimes, while running, I find ways to coexist with this ghost.

​

​

My Terrible Ghost

Before I decided to tame my chaos, I sensed that if I didn’t address it, it would become a terrible ghost. After an incident on the first night, I couldn’t imagine how I would complete the journey (my ghost was berating me loudly). Each time I prepare to head out, I confront this ghost. Every decision to pause or rest means facing it as well. Regardless of whether I choose to set out or rest, it’s a process of confronting both it and myself. According to Xuan, we should feel excitement about this ghost's existence because each appearance is an opportunity to face and change ourselves. I resonate with this; sometimes I even find myself liking my ghost. Here are some things it says:

“Don’t want to run? Then don’t. Why run so fast?”
“If you don’t run, xx will look down on you.”
“Run, damn it!”
“Take a break first; you can catch up later.”
“You should at least walk quickly.”
“Why care what others think? Just take care of yourself.”
“Don’t stop running!”
“No one will accommodate you better than yourself.”
“You’re useless.”
“If you say you’re useless, then you are—what are you bragging about?”

It feels like a split personality.

 

 

Writing Records and Discussions

When I was younger, I enjoyed writing, but as I grew older, I liked it less. I feel that words are often repeated and filtered expressions. So, writing a conclusion is fine, but expressing thoughts in the midst of a journey, when they’re not fully settled, feels inadequate.

 

Recently, I’ve had a thought: the mind tends to retain significant experiences and details. If the mind chooses to forget, there must be a reason—perhaps the details aren’t important, or it’s a form of self-protection. Given this mechanism, should I still capture every detail? What significance do written records hold? What impact does not recording have on me?

 

What’s wrong with face-to-face sharing? Removing the filter of words might allow for more honest expressions of what’s on my mind. If we could share and discuss at various stages during the process, might that spark new insights? Can our conversations help you understand my observations and thoughts better than text? If face-to-face discussions bring discomfort, is not written expression also revealing?

 

However, I also fear that confrontational moments in discussions could cause harm. Yet, gentle (yet effective) discussions can be another form of practice.

 

 

Gao Junqiao Qiao:

 

One

Hiking or just walking in nature makes me feel unrestrained, allowing me to fully experience the natural world and forget the troubles and pressures of city life. In the wild, you can dare to do things you wouldn’t normally do in the city, knowing that if you act similarly in the city, people will be watching and might think you’re crazy.

 

Thus, the wilderness environment makes it easier for me to break free from rules (whether societal, imposed by others, or self-imposed). Working in the wild allows me more freedom to move my body, as if something within me unlocks the moment I enter nature. I know I can ignore others, so my movements become more "wild." I try to use parts of my body that I wouldn’t normally use in daily life.

 

Life in the city, while varied, ultimately leads to mechanization of the body. Over time, repetitive actions and habits diminish the body’s organic nature.

I remember once needing to walk barefoot from Kwai Hing MTR Station back to the Flow White. Truly feeling the ground beneath my feet—cold, sharp, warm remnants, and dust—provides multiple stimuli. It even makes me wonder what different undergrounds are like in the eighteen districts of Hong Kong. Being aware that I’m engaged in an exercise helps me forget the gazes of onlookers.

 

In summary, city life can make me forget the different sensory experiences present in the environment, leading to a gradual loss of organic sensation. The wilderness frees me from those constraints; it’s that simple, yet sufficient. Taking the experiences from the wild back to the city, I can use my senses to appreciate what’s happening around me—seeing the city’s face isn’t enough; it requires deeper observation.

 

Two

Initially, I struggled to understand what "taming" and "chaos" meant. My first intuitive understanding was that taming relates to chaos and learning to coexist with it. However, I lacked a clear concept and had almost dismissed the issue. One day, Ting-Hsuan asked us what our "chaos" was, forcing me to confront this nebulous question.

 

I once thought my "chaos" was simply myself, but I always felt this answer was too superficial. Yet, the confusion or obstacles that arise during the process are manifestations of my inner self. This led to my misunderstanding. I loosely defined any obstacle or negative emotion arising in actions as chaos. This could be one answer, but perhaps it's oversimplified or overly complicated. This might also reflect the "chaos" I face when answering this question.

 

At this moment, I recall a Buddhist saying: "Bodhi has no tree; the bright mirror is not a platform. Originally, there is nothing. Where can dust alight?"

 

In any action, different purposes lead to different forms of chaos. Shifting awareness in various directions alters the appearance of chaos; it can manifest as a sound, a color, or a state—ever-changing. The only traceable aspect is our awareness. Being clear about where our awareness lies helps us understand where chaos originates and why it exists.

 

Practically speaking, once I clarified the concept of "chaos," I could communicate with myself more clearly, allowing my consciousness to flow more freely.

 

Three

Using writing as a learning record was challenging at first. I wasn't accustomed to it and felt the need to meticulously document my feelings and observations. Sometimes, I couldn’t keep up; by the time I wrote, many things had already transpired.

 

While I don’t have strong feelings about writing, I find that when I revisit my notes, I remember events more clearly. I believe that if my goal is to become a successful actor, these records are essential to avoid completely forgetting what I’ve done. When I push myself to recall past experiences while documenting, my mind brings to light details I might otherwise overlook—whether environmental influences, human factors, or bodily changes.

 

This meticulous recording helps me understand myself better, as I become aware of which aspects I pay close attention to and which I choose to ignore, believing them to be unimportant. However, nothing is unimportant; everything should be acknowledged. It serves as a reminder not to overlook the happenings around me.

 

Four

This journey has also involved a partner for continuous observation. With each observation, I look forward to my partner’s transformations. When I see positive changes, I feel happy. My method of observation has also evolved. Initially, I would observe with my whole body, but I discovered that many details escaped my notice. I began to focus on specific areas during different practices—such as the pelvis, abdomen, or shoulder blades—then expand my observations to the entire body.

 

Through this process, I can clearly observe whether energy is emanating from a specific area or if other supportive parts are working in tandem, or if it’s simply following along.

Additionally, through exchanges with my partner, I become aware of things I often overlook. This helps clarify my points of confusion. By combining my partner's insights with my understanding, and through written records and sharing, we create experiences that both of us can understand clearly, achieving a mutual exchange of knowledge and growth.

 

The body is an inseparable part of our humanity, yet we often understand it only superficially.

 

The body is my good friend, and I seek to communicate with it.