Becoming the Storm
45 Wearing the Pajamas
“DOES THIS MEAN I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid?” Roz asked as I tied a black belt around her white gi. Leonard had done a great job whipping this up for her. It had silk panels sewn in the front of the jacket for modesty since the general fabric, like all our summer gis, was a very thin and open weave. It also had a light liner in the upper part of the trousers. When Rose took her to our third floor bedroom to dress, she’d instructed Roz on wearing the pajamas without underwear. Roz had been embarrassed, but when she saw that her modesty was preserved and she wouldn’t show on camera, she relaxed.
“We prefer to think of it as ‘wearing the pajamas.’ You are researching exactly what it feels like to wear the tribal costume.” I turned toward Jess who had the camera trained on us. We were entirely wireless with the new equipment Hannah had acquired for Chick Chat and Redress. She was staying in the background, but I knew she was directing what each of the three cameramen did and what Joyce, inside, was mixing. “You’ll notice that not everyone has adopted this style of dress. Some of our parents and neighbors just aren’t comfortable unless they have several layers of clothing on. How people dress is deeply ingrained in their psyches.” We started moving outside. Jess was behind us, but April picked us up as we exited the side door of the studio and headed out back.
“This is a huge motorhome!” Roz said as we approached it. “Do you travel with an entourage?”
“I don’t normally travel farther than the campus,” I laughed. “This is where Heaven stays when she is visiting.” Right on cue, the door to the motorhome opened and Jessica stepped out.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your filming. I’ll get out of the way,” she said.
“Heaven? Oh my! And you are wearing these pajamas, too!”
“They are so comfortable! Even when I’m on location for Redress or doing a fashion shoot, as soon as I’m off work, I’m in these. Leonard has designed some really pretty ones that I can even go out in. What’s nice is that I can look pretty and even sexy while not being exposed to perverts who just want a shot of my panties or any skin they can get,” Jessica said.
“I was a little nervous when I put this on to do the filming, but the silk lining is far more comfortable than underwear,” Roz said. “I mean, not that I’m not wearing underwear. I mean…”
“I understand. Leonard’s design that builds the underwear into the outfit is brilliant. And since the outfits are all machine washable, you can wash them as frequently as you would any other underwear.”
“You have a gray belt, Heaven. Earlier we learned that was representative of the tribe. Aren’t you a member of the clan?” Roz asked. Jessica looked a little sad.
“I hope one day that I can join the clan,” she said. “It’s not like I’m not welcome. But it wouldn’t be right for me at this stage of my career. I’ve known many of the people in the clan since we were little children, but with my schedule and high profile, I’m really more a part of the extended family. I’m happy to be part of the tribe. I’ll see you later.” With that, Jessica went in through the back door of the studio.
“Since the story came out in the Star, everyone has been interested in what we do with martial arts. What I’m going to show you next is something no one else has been invited to look at. When you broadcast this, it will even surprise a few members of the clan. We simply don’t make a big deal out of this. Most people in our clan do forms that are an expanded set of tàijíquán, which most people have heard of as just Tai Chi. It is an internal discipline that uses slow body movements and poses. These have great health benefits and we started doing the forms so that we wouldn’t put on the freshman fifteen when we came to college. Most of us have been very successful at keeping our weight under control and even our parents have learned the benefits in terms of how they feel.”
“Isn’t Tai Chi a martial art?”
“Martial arts are both internal and external. Tai Chi is an internal art focused on muscle control, breathing, and meditation. It has many similarities to Yoga. But there are people in the clan who practice external forms as well. This is commonly in the form of sparring. We have a small space set up for sparring among those who wish to practice the external art.” I pulled the door of the silo open. “We will stay outside so we don’t disturb those who are sparring and watching.”
“They’re hitting each other!” Roz exclaimed. “That one is so much bigger than the little one. It’s not fair!” Just at that point, Judy did a double spin kick that hit Whitney in the solar plexus. Whitney hit the ground and bounced back up. Adam blew a whistle. Both Whitney and Judy stepped away from each other and bowed.
“What you just saw is a perfect blend of the internal and the external. Judy has a lot of anger and frustration that she is working through right now. She will spar with anyone who will stand up to her, including Adam on the far side and Amy on this side.”
“Why?”
“Lexi Cortales was her best friend. In addition to still being upset over her death, Judy considers the clandestine photographs of her memorial that were taken to have been a desecration of her memory and a crime almost as bad as the murder itself. She is hoping the photographer gets too close to her to run.”
“How close would that be?”
“I’d say somewhere within half a mile.” Adam blew his whistle again and the two women went at it. There was flow, grace, and power in the movements. I was getting erect watching and had a feeling Whitney was going to need attention tonight. Maybe Judy, too. In fact, at the rate they were going, they might give attention to each other. Judy slammed back into the wall as Whitney used an air punch on her. Adam’s whistle blew.
“That makes me sweat, just to watch it. But they aren’t hurting each other, are they?” Roz asked.
“Well, they are pulling their punches so they don’t kill each other and are avoiding punches or kicks to killing zones. But they are both going to be bruised. I’d like you to notice something about both the combatants and the referees. What do you see that is different?”
“The two girls are wearing gym shorts and T-shirts. The referees are in the pajamas.”
“Close, but not quite. Adam and Amy are wearing gis—actual martial arts uniforms. They were both trained in traditional dojos and have competed in various martial arts tournaments. Those venues required formal uniforms. Note the difference between your pajamas and Adam’s gi. You are both wearing black belts, but his has four white stripes. Adam is a fourth degree Karate Black Belt. He is considered a sensei, or teacher. Amy was trained in hand-to-hand combat and mixed martial arts during six years in the Marines. While she wears a gi, there is no belt distinction in the Marines. You either survive or you don’t. Notice the lengths of their gis, as well. They barely cover the butt, while your pajamas come down to mid-thigh. These are competition uniforms. Whitney’s master taught tàijíquán and did not believe in belts or uniforms. She spent most of her time in a basketball uniform and still prefers it. Judy was strongly influenced by both Whitney and Master Cho.”
“Where do you fall in the martial arts hierarchy?”
“Well, I’ve never had formal training in a dojo, so I’ve never actually been tested. Whitney is my master. I would fall somewhere below both her and Amy. Maybe equal to Adam. I’m not sure about Judy. I don’t think I want to find out.”
“So what we are wearing really aren’t martial arts uniforms.”
“That’s right.”
It was a relaxing tour of the ranch and the village. Roz asked some good questions and I answered them as straightforwardly and honestly as I could.
“What’s the real reason you all wear the pajamas?” she asked.
“The real reason is that most of us are nudists and when company comes to the ranch we need something we can throw on quickly. That’s why the jackets are so long. Even if you don’t get the pants on, you’re covered.” Roz stared at me, open-mouthed, and then started laughing.
We had a good time petting the horses and feeding them carrots as we talked about how comforting animals can be and how they will listen to anything you have to say without being judgmental. Roz was getting a little nervous as we got farther and farther from the house and studio.
“Are you taking me to the woods?”
“Not quite. In fact, we’re just headed over there,” I said pointing to the hedge. “This is the newest and possibly most important site on the ranch. It’s where we were headed when the pictures that appeared in the tabloid were taken. I’d have to guess the photographer was over in the tree line there. You know, we weren’t in a very good formation for supposedly being a militia.” We stepped through the gap in the hedge. “Please take your shoes off. I’d like you to step into the River of Life.”
“It’s a Zen Garden!”
“At least a good approximation of one. None of us really study Zen. Various state and county laws prevented us from creating a family cemetery on the ranch. You know, they are pretty carefully regulated. But scattering ashes is not forbidden. This is our family’s memorial garden. When the picture was taken last Sunday, we were coming here to scatter Lexi’s ashes in the gravel.”
“I’m… we’re walking on her?” Roz was horrified.
“Well, it rained this week, so I don’t think you’ll get any of her ashes on your feet. And part of the ritual was raking the stones so that there was no trace on the surface. Look. Here is her marker.” I paused and traced her name with my finger. “Roslyn, I will miss her every day for the rest of my life. In the future, one by one, we will join her here. Our ashes will be mixed into the stones as well. Many of our parents and members of the tribe have already made their desires known to be cremated and laid to rest here where they know they will be visited by the family and the tribe as long as there is a Village of Corazón.” We walked over to the other edge of the plot. “Denise Raymond and her father Jack were buried in Greenlawn Cemetery in Mishawaka so we can’t bring their ashes here. But we’ve marked a stone with their names because we will always remember them. The River of Life flows in a serpentine bed. In the end, we are just stones in the current. But it is the stones that define the path of the river. I’m not a great philosopher or even a very wise person, but I believe that. These and other people whom I love are what have shaped my life and I will always remember them.”
I walked away from Roslyn and back toward the ranch. I knew she was watching me go, but we’d set it up so she could do her concluding remarks out there. The sun was getting low and I knew Jess, under Hannah’s guidance, would capture a beautiful woman in an incredible setting.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
