Those of us who knew Robert realized he was more than a tai chi practitioner. He was a participant in our lives, and I mean that in every sense of the word. Certainly physically but also psychologically, philosophically and spiritually.
I last saw Robert at his favorite spot, the park by city hall in Temple City in the area surround by three pines where Master Yan’s Wu Tai Chi group practiced. It was this past Saturday, March 24th. We joked about an aggressive incident involving two practitioners at Rosemead Park. Afterward, I left for Rosemead and another class. I didn’t know it but that would be the last laugh we would share together.
Robert Goodman succumbed to a heart attack a couple of hours later while working out at a local gym. A heart attack, that was the greatest shock of all. When I went to the park the next day and my friends told me the tragic news, I was incredulous. Robert was the most robust person one could imagine. Strong, sturdy, built like a bear and in some ways he resembled one. Yet, his rugged physical stature belied a certain gentleness within – pure yang outside yet a deep fertile yin at his innermost core.
His heart, which failed him in the end, encompassed all of us who knew him. His hearty embrace accepted everyone and rejected no one even those who challenged him. Of course, with someone of his physical stature, there were always those who were up for a challenge and had only one goal, beating him. So, yes, indeed, Robert had his grievances and held grudges toward those who saw him only as a way of inflating their egos through domination. But Robert stood for so much more. For those few who disliked his personality, his appearance or lifestyle, he harbored no animosity but tried to understand what was behind their motives.
To the rest of us, Robert was not only a mentor, but a friend, a therapist, a life coach and guru. He seemed to know us better than we know ourselves. For me, he was someone I could confide in. We often discussed everyday life issues as well as philosoph, consciousness, visions, dreams and altered states. Robert loved to discuss Daoist poetry. Trying to interpret their mysterious symbolism intrigued him so much. It astounded me to discover that he and I shared the same spiritual nature: a mix of Daoism and Advaita-Vedanta with some Zen Buddhism rolled in. We even followed a few of the same teachers Shenzen Young, Marshall Rosenberg, Gil Fronsdale, Swami Sarvapriananda, whom he called “the little monk.”
We discussed emotional fluidity, allowing emotions to flow through us like water rather than stagnate within us causing psychological and physical blockages. As one might expect from someone who followed Daoism, water was one of Robert’s favorite analogies whether it involved tai chi or emotional or physical energy. That ebb and flow like the ebb and flow of yin and yang greatly intrigued Robert. Perhaps, most of all, it reminded him of his teacher, Anthony (Tony) Ho, who, when attacked could flow like water.
To Robert, Master Ho was an enigma. Like many of Master Ho’s disciples, Robert had a love-hate relationship with him. He loved Tony as a person but hated his personality at least as it applied to the way he taught – mysterious, ever-changing, flowing one way one week then flowing the other way the very next week. Perhaps, most disturbing to Robert was the time Tony demanded that he stop doing tui shou for one year. That frustrated Robert to no end. Push hands was the one practice he absolutely lived for.
Ironically, Tony passed away just a few weeks before Robert, not suddenly, but from a long, painful bout with cancer. I can’t help believing that Robert left us because Tony called his spirit to join him in the Great Beyond where they have deeper mysteries to be explored than those that keep our spirits bound to this realm. I can imagine them meeting in the clouds above some legendary Chinese peak, where teacher and disciple can integrate their love-hate relationship into one of celestial love as they look into the deepest innermost secrets of the Tai Chi.
Of course I’m saddened that he left us; nevertheless I’m joyful for Robert and all the possibilities now opened to that wonderful spirit we all knew. I’m reminded of the Chuangzi story where his disciples were confounded to find him joyfully singing and beating a drum when his wife died. Chuangzi explained that he had no reason to be sad for she was free to return to her source, that from whence she had come. But I am getting somewhat esoteric. So, rather than continue in my words, I should let Robert speak for himself. So, here is a link to his website:
Click on the numbers and symbols at the bottom of the webpage to encounter the teachers and Daoist metaphors that so intrigued him. Hopefully, we can find the resources to keep his website up and running as long as possible.
“Wherever one may walk, everywhere is the Tao. No happiness is more delightful than this.” — Liu Yiming (The Taoist I Ching, Hexagram 16 Joy)
https://listeningenergy.com/8/
(click on RED DUST)
