Her first day training

Her dad was a Dragon according to the Chinese zodiac and she was rat. The two in their family we similar in stature, strength, and character. Also, according to the zodiac the Dragon and the Rat signs did not get along with the signs of her mother and brother. She did not know this until she started her martial arts path. As a child she liked to play outside, feeling the energy of the earth and the wind. She watched water in wonder of it's varying states and how it interacted with what was around it. She would hop from rock to rock testing her balance and agility, little did she know that this would all help a few years later. Her brother stayed inside on his computer and they never played together.

The door to the flame closed and with that, tears and heartbreak enveloped her. She had been strong through the entire process of her father's passing up until this moment. She collapsed to her knees and allowed to the tears to flow. Her guardians from above wept with her but they could not more but feel her pain and anguish. It was as if time had stopped and held her there. The pain of family, the loss, and finality of losing her father had finally won. She felt as if she lost a part of herself in this process, a piece of the her that had been ripped out. This place in time was a threshold moment, one of many she would cross in her lifetime but at 23 the first impactful one that dealt with death. This moment would put her on a trajectory to become one of the most mysterious female martial artist of the 21st century.

She was small, just 5' 1" tall, as an adult she still felt like a kid being the average size of a 10 year old. But she had other attributes she was quick from playing team sports in high school and understood movement from rock climbing.

Walking up the steps to the martial arts school she felt conflicted. On one hand her father was no longer there to protect her and on the other hand she had watched action movies, couldn't she already protect herself? She put her hand on the door handle opened the door and walked in. For a moment, it was as if the air had changed, it was lighter almost easier to breathe. The hair on her arms lifted slightly as if there was an electric charge to the space. And then it was gone, the silence was cut by an instructor standing there. "Hello and welcome!" "Take off your shoes, bow onto the floor, let's get started." It was like another world, completely foreign to her. She had never bowed to anyone or before this moment. There were pictures of people that hung on the wall, not knowing who they were, they seemed important. There were Chinese characters on the wall but just four of them. She had no idea what they represented. There were old artifacts, an iron urn, a drum, and a statue of a lady that looked really old. The instructor told her to hit the first bag lightly to cultivate a hardness to her hands. He said that this is done over time and that it was important to tap the bag with a correct fist, rather than hit is hard without accuracy. Here she would learn her first lesson in following instructions. She hit the bag harder than a tap and instantly regretted it. She recalled her memory, when the instructor hit the bag he did it with ease and precision. He did not wince in pain or have a second thought, every hit was intentional, fluid, and with precision. And then she thought, I don't know, but I am intrigued to learn more. The instructor smiled and then told her about jow and how it supported the training. The rest of class was a blur but the jow and the heavy bag, iron fist she wanted to know more. She also learned that day, that she was just as tall as the Grandmaster.