Re-learning How to Breathe by Fu Sifu Stephen Vick I sat quietly on the floor with my legs crossed. We listened attentively to our teacher as he stood still like a mountain, aged with experience and wisdom. My classmates and I took in every word and motion as he taught ancient methods for the most basic of human actions’respiration’inhale and exhale. If you were not in the class, you might find it odd’ten students sitting cross legged behind glass walls, separating us from the hustle and horns of busy buses, cars and passersby on the North west side of Chicago. Key Chun Song is in his mid-sixties, short and well groomed. His white collared sleeves are rolled once, showing his strong forearms. His face is calm and peaceful, high cheek bones with a wisp of a mustache and goatee. He is short in stature, but gives no impression of weakness. He is solid like a tree trunk, roots sunken deep into the earth. He is unlike any teacher I have had. He talks in broken English, yet I understand him clearly through his subtle metaphors. Maybe it is the many years I have listened to his voice’but I can easily